Page 3 of Winter Princess
And gasp in shock.
My body convulses. Every muscle tightens and suddenly I'm in the foetal position, my limbs locked around my torso. White hot pain floods my mind, but I can't open my mouth to scream. I can feel my fingernails burying themselves in my palms and I know that I've drawn blood. My chest hurts and I can't breathe. I try to gulp up air, but my lungs refuse to obey. I'm locked into myself, screaming inside, the pain threatening to drown me. Am I dying? Is this the end?
Without warning, my muscles relax, and with a rattling sound in my chest, I can breathe again. I take a deep breath, savouring the cool air flowing down into my lungs. My body hurts from the involuntary exertion. I lie on the bed, not moving, trying to calm down my breathing. What the hell was that? Was that some kind of physical illness or is it my magic going amok?
My throat is parched and I feel a little dizzy. I slowly get up and make my way through the dark flat until I reach my kitchenette. Pouring myself a glass of water and downing it in one go, I lean against the counter. My heart is still beating too fast. My hand holding the glass is shaking slightly. I am scared. Should I wake my parents? But then, maybe I'm overreacting. Maybe it's nothing.
Wrong.
I collapse to the floor, my body going limp. I'm not fainting, my mind is fully aware, but my body refuses to move. At least this time there's no pain. But I can't feel anything. No warmth, no cold, no tingling. Nothing. It's as if I'm completely separated from the body that's lying crumpled on the kitchen floor.
Then the clattering starts. It's coming from the kitchen cupboards: rattling, knocking, shattering. One of the cupboard doors above me flies open and out float four wine glasses, trundling in the air, gently knocking against each other with the most beautiful chime. They're followed by my mugs. Another cupboard opens. With a bang, a plate flies out and crashes against the wall opposite, breaking into a hundred pieces. More plates destroy themselves kamikaze style, and shards are raining down on me. I don't even know if they're cutting me; I still can't feel anything. The banging in my drawers gets louder until they fly open, releasing my cutlery into the air. The knives are flying around in a swarm, while the forks seem to be line dancing. This must be a dream. Only in a dream forks can dance.
There's a loud knock on my door, and I can hear my father shouting, but I can't respond. I'm trapped within my body, surrounded by flying crockery. The knocking turns into banging, and with a crash, the door flies open. A second later, my parents are standing at the kitchen door, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. It must be quite a sight.
"Wyn?" my mother asks, her voice trembling. "Why aren't you moving?"
Suddenly, the knife-flock turns in the air and assembles in something that looks like an attack formation, directed at my parents. My large bread knife spearheads its brothers. They tremble, then the first one shoots forward, aiming for my father's head.
NOOOOOO! I shout inside my head, and with a gigantic crash, they stop in mid-flight and fall down to the floor, together with the rest of my crockery. A plate hits the ground next to my face and a shard buries itself in my cheek. It hurts like hell, but it's a good pain, because I can finally feel again. I wiggle my fingers and slowly, they comply. But with movement comes the pain. I feel like I just survived a meteor shower. I am covered in scratches and my clothes are shredded by glass and porcelain shards. The one in my cheek seems to be the deepest wound though.
My parents are still standing in the doorway, staring at the carnage that was once my kitchen.
"Wyn?" my dad croaks. "What was that?"
"Are you alright?" mum whispers.
I just nod, not yet ready to speak. And I don't have any answers anyway. Usually, my telekinetic magic allows me to lift one plate at a time. If I concentrate really hard, I can lift two, but only for a few seconds at a time. This is crazy.
I slowly stumble to my feet, brushing the debris off my ruined clothes. My cupboards are empty, their contents now lying destroyed on the floor. The only thing left on the counter is the glass of water I drank from earlier.
My eyes fill with tears as I look at the destruction I wrought. I'd always known magic could be dangerous, but not like this. What if the knives hadn't stopped? What if my parents had been hurt, or worse?
Tears are running down my face, mixing with the blood trickling from the cut on my cheek. I look down and see that my shirt is already drenched in blood, both from my cheek and from other, smaller wounds.
A sob escapes me, and a second later, my mum takes me in her arms, holding me as I cry. She isn't asking any questions, and for that, I am unbelievably grateful. For now, I just want to be sad. Maybe a little self-pity will make this better.
But it’s not over yet.
This time, it’s a headache. But not any kind of headache. A burning, splitting, all-destroying headache.
I feel my knees wobble and just manage to whisper "Get away from me" to my parents. If another magic attack is happening, I don't want them anywhere near me. I almost killed my dad once already, and the sun hasn't even risen.
They step back and I gently fall to the ground. This time, my body remains under my control, but with the aching pain in my head, that doesn't matter. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to keep all light away from my senses. I've had migraines before, but never this bad. My head is being ripped apart and there is nothing I can do to make it better.
"Wyn!" I hear from afar. "Wyn, you need to stop!"
I don't know what he means. I can't look, I can't hear anything, all I feel is the pain and the rushing of blood in my ears.
"Wyn, please, look, you need to stop it!"
Their voices are becoming more desperate but I'm lying on the ground, my entire being encased in agony. I can smell something, but my mind isn't aware enough to figure out what it is. My parents' voices are getting quieter until they disappear. I'm on my own, alone with the pain. A roaring has started all around me and the smell is getting more intense.
Burning. I can smell burning. With all I've got, I manage to open my eyes a little. The light almost makes me pass out. It's bright, too bright. It shouldn't be this bright in my flat. It takes me a moment to process what I'm seeing.
Fire.
Lots of fire.
