In the Claws of an Angel

The inside of the camper began to warm by 7:30 AM, despite its running AC unit, which gently woke me out of my sleep. I stretched my long limbs out on the couch, letting out a groan of content as my muscles relaxed.

As my body and mind transitioned, I tried my best to ignore the haunting events from the night before, but they were just too intense to set aside.

My eyes glued themselves to the ceiling as I relived the sound of the men's voices, and the looks on everyone's terrified faces...

But the thing that stuck with me most was the gunman's painfully tight grip on my arm as he dragged me to my then seemingly inevitable death. My hand instinctively shot up to the spot on my arm his fingers had wrapped around, rubbing the sensitive skin... It was still sore, no doubt at least a little bruised, but I didn't want to look at it yet.

I sighed and gently pressed my palms to my groggy eyes, thinking of how lucky I was to have coaxed my telekinesis to work in my favor. I wished I could do that all the time, and wondered why I couldn't...

"You just need practice." Logan's raspy voice echoed inside my head, the image of his smiling face across the table from me at Denny's flashing along with it.

That's when I slowly sat up, realizing Logan and I hadn't said one word to each other since the incident, other than a brief "Goodnight."

A small yawn escaped from my lips as I peered about the camper, listening for the sound of Logan's soft, dull snore that I'd become familier with over the past few nights. I waited a second, hearing nothing but the whirring of the AC unit, and the faint sound of birds chirping outside.

I stood up, and my bare feet padded across the camper's floor, over to the tiny booth-like table to the right where the window was. I crawled up into the left side of the booth, leaning past a cloud of dust particles floating in a beam of early morning sunlight peeping through the thin curtains as I pushed them aside.

The leak of sunlight turned into a flood when I moved the soft, yellowing, used-to-be-white fabric, illuminating the inside of the camper. I squinted as my eyes adjusted, then peered outside, scanning the area.

All the way to the left, I could see the worn tire marks in the grass of the trail we had taken late last night. We were on a public campsite, Buck's Run Camping Community, to be exact. Logan had payed a $15 fee for three nights of camping, then drove at least 30 minutes out into the grounds, just to make extra sure we weren't too close to any other campers.

Far out in the distance, past a cluster of mossy trees and across a wide, open field of browning grass, I could see a glimpse of smoke rising from another campsite's fire. My stomach started to growl at the thought of the breakfast they were most likely cooking, but I ignored it.

I turned my head to the right, peering at a small, natural spring a few yards away. The water was clear and sparkly, and Logan's two wicker chairs were set up next to it. In the middle of them, a firepit was made with stones placed in a circle, and some dirt stirred up in the middle.

The entire area was shaded by tall, leafy trees. I felt my eyebrows scrunch up as I realized Logan was no where to be seen, but he must have gotten up early and put the chairs out.

I backed away from the window, letting the curtains drop back down again. Crawling back out of the booth and retracing my steps back to the couch, I noticed a small paper laying on the end table, next to the clock.

"Hm..?" I hummed to myself as I reached out and grasped the paper, holding it up to look at it.

It was a note, written in Logan's scratchy handwriting. I could hear his voice in my head as my eyes passed over the words.

'Went out for firewood. Refilled the tank in the shower, just flip the switch on the wall next to the sink and give it 10 minutes to warm up. Towels are in the cabinet. Try not to wander too far while I'm gone.

-Logan'

When I was done reading the note, I absent mindedly flipped it over to the the back before setting it back down. A shower did sound nice... Much better than washing my hair in a gas station bathroom sink.

I stepped to the couch and flopped down, reaching over the arm and yanking my duffel bag into my lap.

The first thing I pulled out was my shower bag, containing my shampoo, conditioner, make-up, toothbrush, razors, and hairbrush.

Then, I grabbed a pair of red boyshort underwear and a bra to match, followed by a loose fitting camo print t-shirt, and a pair of raggedy, torn up jean shorts I had been holding onto since my 21st birthday... There was just something about them that always fit me just right.

I set my duffle bag aside, gathered my clothes and shower pack, and slipped into the bathroom.

The space was tiny, but manageable. There was a shower with a crinkly navy blue curtain on the left, and to the right was the toilet, small sink with a single cabinet underneath it, and cloudy mirror.

I had just enough room to move, and that's all I needed. Just the promise of a hot shower was enough to keep me happy. I found the button next to the sink that Logan's note had mentioned to me. It was a small switch with a red design on it that looked like a shower head, spraying down red squiggles which could only be water... So, I pressed it, and a buzzing sound came from somewhere up inside the ceiling of the camper.

I listened to it for a second before setting my clothes up on the counter next to the sink, crouching down and opening the cabinet below. I pulled the first blue and white striped towel off the stack of three, avoiding a cluster of crosswords and word searches, half filled out in Logan's handwriting.

The hinges of the cabinet door creaked quietly as I lightly shut it, adding the towel to the pile on the counter.

The ceiling was still humming, meaning I still had a few minutes to wait for hot water.

I mosied back out into the small main living space of the camper, folding my blanket into a neat square and setting it at the end of the couch. The calm, muffled chattering of birds could be heard on the other side of the thin walls as I continued to the kitchen cabinets, swinging them open and shut until I came upon my box of Cosmic Brownies.

It wasn't exactly a healthy breakfast, I know, but the minute I looked at the box, I got an intense craving for chocolate.

Reaching into the box, I frowned when my fingertips only touched three plastic packages out of the original ten... I guess I'd been going a little crazy on them... Oh well, I always had a sweet tooth the size of Texas.

I grabbed a small glass out of the neighboring cabinet, and with the brownie in my hand, I crossed the floor at a diagonal and made my way to the mini fridge, setting the package and glass ontop of it as I popped the door open.

I breathed sigh of relief as the chilly air rushed out of the small box, cooling my arms and face. I scanned the two slightly crowded shelves for milk, finally spotting it in the very back corner on the top.

Careful not to knock the other items over, I pulled the half gallon jug out of the fridge, unscrewed the cap, filled my glass a little less than half full, then replaced it and shut the door.

Usually, I hated to drink plain milk... There was just something about it that grossed me out. There were only three things I could drink it with: Cookies, cereal, and exhibit A: brownies.

I flopped down on the couch once again. The plastic crinkled as I unwrapped the Little Debbie snack, picking a neon pink chocolate covered candy out of the thick, rich frosting, and popping it into my mouth.

The first bite of the brownie was overpoweringly sweet, rich and chocolatey. I chewed it quickly, taking another small bite and washing it down with a sip of ice cold milk.

I sat there on the couch for a few minutes, taking my time eating my brownie and drinking my milk. The camper had a yellowish morning glow to it, and when I listened close I could faintly hear the water in the spring trickling outside.

When I was done eating, I stood up and glanced at the clock on my way back to the kitchenette. 8:09 AM, and Logan still wasn't back yet.

I made a face as I wondered where he would have gone for firewood for so long. After I dropped the brownie wrapper into the trash and rinsed my glass out in the sink, I paused with it still in my hand.

My distorted reflection stared back up at me in the shine of the blueish green glass, and I started to chew the inside of my lip in thought.

"You just need practice..." Logan's voice echoed in my head again, "...Practice..."

"Okay..." I whispered to myself in an exhale. "Practice."

I anxiously turned my crystal blue eyes up toward the cupboard, took a few deep breaths, and focused. I stared at the faux wood, pushing everything else out of my mind but the image of the hinges creaking open.

At first, nothing happened. I didn't let it discourage me, though, and kept trying.

"Open..." I whispered to the cabinet door, narrowing my eyes as I felt the pressure start to build up. "Come on... Come on..."

I'm sure to any normal person, I would have looked completely bonkers, standing there pleading with the cabinet to open, when I could just reach up and use my hand. It would take two seconds.

I wasn't in a hurry though, so time had nothing to do with it... And unfortunatly, I wasn't just any normal person.

In fact, in today's society I wasn't even considered human, so it didn't matter what I looked like to anyone.

My stomach jumped as the cabinet door budged just the slightest bit, responding to my mind's energy. I couldn't fight back my gleeful grin, but I did my best to control my excitement.

I didn't want to lose focus. That was key.

Taking in and holding a deep breath, I stared intensely at the cabinet door, imagining my hands reaching out and grasping the handle... Slowly, it began to ease open.

I chewed my bottom lip in concentration, keeping my mental grip on the small door, until finally it settled in an open position.

A triumphant smile spread across my face, and I glanced down at the damp glass in my hand. Feeling brave, I held it up in front of me, staring at it and consuming my mind with it.

I twirled the glass around a few times, feeling the smooth surface slide against my finger tips. When I felt a slight resistence the third time I tried to twirl it around, I held very still... My fingers gradually loosened their grip and released the glass, leaving it floating in mid-air.

"Yes...!" I cheered myself on in a soft whisper, never taking my eyes off the floating object in front of me. "Okay, okay... into the cabinet."

The first attempt to guide the glass into the cabinet was a failed one. It only wobbled a bit, then slipped from my mental grip. I gasped and quickly reached out to cradle the fragile object in my hands before it could crash into the counter.

The second attempt was exactly the same, causing me to sigh in frustration.

I knew the hot water was probably ready by now, but I was determined to get this right.

My eyes fluttered shut, and I gathered the mental energy I needed, feeling it pin point the glass and latch onto it, lifting it from my hands.

I let my eyes blink open again, keeping my hands raised just in case the glass went for a free fall for a third time. But, to my amazement, it stayed floating.

I used my hands to guide it through the air, and smiled as it finally reached the cabinet, setting itself down gently. I tried to telekinetically  shut the door again, but my excitement got the best of me, putting too much oomph into it.

The cheap wood clattered loudly, and I yelped in surprise... followed by a giggle of excitement. I was getting better at this, slowly but surely.

Who knows what I could learn to do with it if I tried hard enough? I guess what they say might be true; 'practice makes perfect'.

xxxxxx

xxxxxx

I took my time in the hot, steamy shower, letting my muscles relax and unwind. The scent of my strawberry shampoo surrounded me, fusing with the steam and cloaking my body as I went through my routine.

I sighed in content as I reached down and cranked the lever to the right twice, halting the flow of water and allowing the small shower head to drip dry. I grabbed a hold of the blue shower curtain and pulled it to the side, the metal rings clinking as the slid along the curtain rod.

The water dripping from my hair slapped against the tub as I leaned over and wrung it out, drying it the rest of the way to damp with the towel.

I used my palm to wipe the foggy mirror clear, blinking at my reflection. My usually pale, porcelain cheeks were flushed and splotchy from the hot water, and my long dark hair was a crazy mess.

I glanced down to my arm, studying the all too noticeable bruises in the shape of finger prints. I groaned inwardly as I looked away, just hoping the sleaves of my t-shirt would cover them.

After my teeth and hair were brushed, I started on my make-up. Foundation and powder first, then some neutral brown eyeshadow, black eyeliner, and finally black mascara.

The steamy fog was finally cleared from the bathroom, and I could see myself more clearly in the mirror now. I batted eyelashes at myself.

I had always loved how black eyeliner and mascara made my ice blue eyes pop against my pale skin. My make up routine had been basically the same since I was about 17.

Making sure to tidy up and leave the bathroom the way I had found it; An old habbit my mom had burned into my brain, I opened the door, expecting to see Logan sitting on the couch, or fixing something up in the kitchenette.

But, still, he wasn't anywhere to be found. I furrowed my brow and stepped outside the front door, letting it clatter shut.

No Logan.

I put my hands on my hips, squinting in the bright sun as I peered around. A passing breeze tossed my still damp, strawberry scented hair all around my head until my hands shot up to tame it.

"Where the hell could he have gone...?" I mumbled to myself.

I started to head toward the lawn chairs to sit and wait for Logan to come back, but after a little thought, I walked right on past them, down a path into a woodsy area. This was a family camping ground, what could be so dangerous out here?

Maybe I'd stumble across Logan.

Plus, his note said not to wander far... He didn't say not to wander at all.

xxx TBC xxx