Sunday

Sundays are the best for me, not Fridays not Saturdays, just Sunday. It is on Sunday that I can sleep past noon, eat and do absolutely nothing for the entire day because on Sunday I have no worries. I don't have to worry about my studies, my father and his odd training methods nor my instructor. Sunday is the day of rest indeed and I need the rest. It feels like this is my first day of rest in the past six months. Six months, it has been six months since I've started training with my father, six months of me learning control, six months of destroying our poor back yard. I'm glad to say I've mastered the fire and learned not to fear it, after many failed attempts. Sadly my body aches from yesterday's session with my instructor, a pain that is only tolerated by my pride at having convinced my instructor to teach me four specific forms of martial arts. I had the idea when I first held fire in my palm, marvelling at the power I hold and wondering if I can use it the way Zuko does. That led to another thought that then led me down a rabbit hole which led to me asking my instructor to teach me four different styles instead of the one I had formally requested.

Forget taekwondo, teach me Tai Chi, Hung Gar, Northern Shaolin, Bagua.

It took a lot of begging on my part, some well-placed words on my parent's part and a lot of patience on my instructor's part. In the end, I got my way so I have officially started learning four martial arts style. Seems like a lot, but I am dedicated to these styles of fighting, because why the hell not? I already have all four elements, might as well learn the techniques that go with them.

All in all, things have been busy and I am tired.

"Zena, wake up!"

There's a bang, most likely my door hitting the wall followed by my father's bellow. He sounds as cheery as ever as if he is not disturbing me at the moment. I am very busy doing nothing, so please just leave me alone and bother mom today. I just want to rest my weary body and sleep for as long as my body will allow. I curl into my blanket, covering my head with a groan, making my displeasure very clear to this man. He ignores all the signs, as he always does, and proceeds to haul me out of bed, disrespectfully. Now I'm glaring into those bright hazel eyes that are just so happy for reasons unknown. I want to kick him in the chin, something very much accomplishable by the way he's holding me. It is only my fondness for this amazing father that holds me back, but one wrong word and it's over for him. I have learned to put literal fire behind my kicks.

"Dad, it's Sunday, the one day in the week I'm actually without a worry in the world, the one day in the week I decide to be a child and act my age, so why, dear father, have you awoken me on this fine morning?"

His excuse has better be good or I might be hiring my mother to dispose of a body. I'm sure she loves me more than him so she'll happily be my partner in crime.

"Your cousin would like to spend some time with you so she's coming over today. She'll be here soon so you should clean up" he's smiling, as always. I don't know how he can be so happy but on the other hand, I do. This man has all this money, a beautiful wife and a precious daughter. He's living the life, so why not smile?

All of that aside I'm debating whether or not I should actually kick him for those words. No one told me about this beforehand as they should have. Now I hear of it, on the day I plan to do absolutely nothing with absolutely no one, especially not my cousin of all people. Don't get me wrong, she's cool and I actually like her, but I want to sleep and do nothing today. If she's here I'll have to play and keep her entertained.

But she's actually a fun kid.

There's a balance in everything.

"Dad"

"She misses you sweetie and you know she adores you"

Adore is a very strong word, but yes she loves me, a love that has not dwindled despite my lack of memories of her. I suppose the least I can do is offer my free time, she is family after all.

"Fine, fine, put me down"

He does exactly that and I get myself a towel and drag myself to the bathroom. As I trudge towards the bathroom I faintly wonder what my mother is cooking up in the kitchen today. She has to work the entire day today, but I'm sure she'll prepare my breakfast, lunch and dinner along with snacks for in-betweens. My father complains about my apparent special treatment, saying it is very much unfair she feeds her daughter this good and does not even think about her husband. All my mother had to say to this is that he is a grown-ass man who knows how to cook, while I am just a child. Naturally, a mother has to feed her child, the husband can go fend for himself.

I spend a bit longer in the shower simply because I was playing with the water. I'm sure my constantly playing with the water in my bath is one of the reasons I learned to control water so quickly. I just find it easier to manipulate as it simply goes with the flow, changing to fit into anything it's placed into. Could perhaps be a representation of myself, could not, I'm not sure and really don't take the time to think on it.

I do get out eventually.

Standing before the mirror of my closet I take a moment to admire myself in the mirror. Six years old or not, I quite like my body, small as it is, as weak as it seems. I end up staring at the purple bruise just above my hip, an angry thing dirtying otherwise perfect golden brown skin. The single bruise that's visible to me and one inflicted upon myself during training. It hurt like hell to the point I was sure I would cry right then and there. By some miracle, I manage to hold back tears, push away the pain and continue my lessons as if nothing had happened. My instructor, a kind woman who has started treating me more and more like her own child, said nothing about the whole incident but I did notice the smile on her face. One of amusement at my actions, an expression that frustrated me, but at the same time I could not be mad at her. She had warned me, and I - stubborn creature that I am - ignored her warning words.

I learned the hard way, as I should.

The process of putting on clothes is executed sluggishly as I am in no rush to leave my room. After I'm fully clothed - I went with a cobalt dress today - I linger before my mirror, teeth bared in inspection. There's this single tooth that has been bothering me for a solid three weeks. Ever since I suffered a stupid fall that ended with me face first in the grass. It's loose, painful and a nuisance. I have been resisting the urge to force it out of my mouth for a long time, but if I accidentally bite my tongue with it one more time I'm doing it.

I tug on my ears for a moment, wondering if I should wear my hearing aids today. Mom said I should at least wear it for a few hours to give my mind a rest. I suppose I can honour her wishes and keep them on for a while. I'm okay with them because sometimes I enjoy the peace and quiet of my own mind, but other times I prefer to let my quirk run wild and fill my head with thoughts. Especially since I've been trying to figure out how far my range is.

I'll wear them today, for a while.

The things are behind the ear aids, relieving because I don't want something in my ear canal at all. They're blue in colour, I'm not sure what they're made of but it feels rubbery and surprisingly soft, which is why I sometimes forget I'm wearing them. Sometimes their presence is all too clear with a pressure behind my air, again, not painful, just noticeable.

I'll wear them later, right now I need to try and do something about my hair. I had told my mother that I would like to do my hair on my own because she can't always do it for me and I'm getting older. I regret my decision, but I must push forward. I will conquer this mess of 3c curls be it today, tomorrow or twenty years later.

How long is my hair?

It's a sudden thought that has me tugging on a single curly strand until it becomes taut. The light makes the dark strand seem a lighter shade of brown than it actually is. The colour is a deep brown reminding me of milk chocolate the longer I look at it. My hair comes past my chin and meets my shoulder, once I release the strand it bounces to stand at chin length. It's nice, long hair, very nice, but I'm sure I'll be cutting it in the future. The style is still to be decided but it will be shortened in the future.

When it comes to my hair I can either put it up or leave it as it is, a bush of curls that blows everywhere in the wind.

So up it is.

~~~~~~

It's funny how just when I go to open my door, a little six-year-old flies past it and right into my arms. I almost forgot how little she was and now that I literally have her in my arms, it becomes very clear. She's light too as I don't have to put too much effort into holding her up. Still, I would very much like it if she detangled herself from me and stand on her own two feet.

"I know you miss me and all, but I could've ended on the floor with a bruise on my head" if I had not caught her I would be complaining about a headache, something I'm used to but not fond of.

"Sorry" she hops off me, all bouncy and excited to see me that she can barely contain herself. "You're pretty strong though, you should arm wrestle Israel"

"Thanks but no thanks, that guy is older and stronger than me" I would be walking away with a sore arm

"You don't know that"

Has she not seen the muscle on our dear older cousin?

I don't bother saying anything to her on the subject and simply step past her and out the room. She's following me soon after, little feet tapping on behind me until I suddenly can't hear her footfalls anymore. Looking back, I meet brown eyes similar to mine and a smile that can rival my father. Does she know that her presence completely disappears when she's out of sight?

"You're not wearing hearing aids" she points out, now on my other side in the blink of an eye. I stare at her for a long time, almost forgetting her words.

"I guess I'm not" I did plan on wearing them but it seems I forgot at some point. I'll wear them later if only to reassure my mother.

"Is it weird having thoughts that don't belong to you?" She's in front of me, a look of curiosity on her face. She should stop shifting from place to place like that before I run into her on accident.

"It was, still kinda is but I'm used to it and can ignore them if I want to"

"Can you hear mine?"

"Duh, especially since you're so close" Her thoughts are jumbled, unexpected and very much disorienting. She thinks about one thing and then jumps to something that has no relation to the former thought.

"How far away can you hear?"

"I don't know"

She beams at this, smiling so brightly I fear she'll split her face in two. She has an idea, one that has me quirking a brow as it is broadcasted very loudly and very clearly in my own mind. Then there are mental questions invading my brain in rapid succession as this child bounces on her feet in excitement. That excitement is fed to me through her thoughts making it near impossible to suppress a smile and the excitement that is flowing into me.

I blink after I acknowledge the emotion, an emotion not actually belonging to me. I'm excited because she's excited and that excitement is starting to feel like my own.

I forgot that the thoughts come with emotions for a second there. I've gotten used to ignoring them so I likely failed to notice foreign emotions.

Damn, I'm an empath, aren't I?

"S-"

"Yes, I have a bike, yes we're allowed out of the house if we ask dad and yes I'll go along with it"

I'm being dragged after a happy Alissa after agreeing to the unasked question with no resistance. I simply watch the tightly coiled curls on her head bounce with each step. Her hair is a brown so deep it appears to be black unless you look close enough. Unlike me, her hair reaches past her shoulder even when tightly coiled and it's left down and magically not scattered. Lucky she doesn't look like some wild animal incarnate.

"Okay, so I'm gonna take your bike and-" She starts as we head down the stairs and into the living room

"Bike down the street-" her thoughts are displaying the sentences as she speaks them, making it very easy for me to finish those sentences

"Yeah, and I'll be singing a song the entire time, in my head of course and you'll-"

"Read your mind while you go further and further and further-"

"Until you can't hear me anymore" she seems very happy about me finishing those sentences for her. I've never met someone so happy to be around me, it's weird but very nice. "Do you have walkie talkies? We can use them to communicate so I can know when you stop hearing me"

"Yeah, I've got some, but they're all the way in my room" I loathe going back up those stairs.

"Oh, okay, I'll get them" with that she's gone within a second. I don't even bat an eye at her disappearance and simply find my kitchen. I scramble up the bar to find a lunchbox with my name so beautifully written on it.

"Before I eat this food I must thank whatever God that has blessed me with such a loving and considerate mother and the delicious food she takes the time to prepare for me" I nod my head in agreement to my words, utter a silent thanks, and finally open up my lunchbox. A ham and cheese sandwich, some apple slices on the side, some octopi sausages, some mashed potatoes and a pack of potato chips.

Breakfast

"Ooh, chips"

Alissa is going to scare me to death, I'm sure now as her appearance almost had me falling off the barstool I had struggled to get on. This girl drops the walkie talkies on the bar and opens up my bag of chips with no questions asked. She's glancing at me as I bite into my sandwich, freezing when my teeth sink in and glaring at absolutely nothing.

"You okay?"

Ripping out my piece of bread I chew very slowly as the pain in my mouth sends tears to my eyes.

"My tooth hurts" I admit, food swallowed and sandwich discarded. "I'm getting it out"

"We can tie a string to a door" the suggestion is followed by the crunching of crispy chips that I now wanna eat.

"Or I can just pull it out"

Before she can even try to stop me I grip my tooth and pull without a second thought. One moment I have a full mouth of teeth the next I'm holding a tiny tooth in my hand and tasting blood.

It hurts.....fu-

Don't curse, don't curse, don't curse

"You're crying" Alissa is trying and failing to contain her laughter and I really can't blame her. I'm such an idiot.

At least I got it out, but damn I have such a low pain tolerance.