1 The start of...something

Maria could hear her dad talking to the stranger on the other side of the door. Her dad seemed very angry.

"Maria..." shouted dad, but she couldn't catch the rest, as it was muffled by the door. But that was enough to pique her curiosity.

She placed her ear on the door and listened.

"Maria has already begun to lose control" the stranger said, a cold sort of fury in his voice. A chill ran down Maria's spine. The air turned cold. Was the stranger angry because of something she did? Was it because of the broken sink? Was it something she did in school? Or outside, on the streets?

The voices were muffled by the flurry of questions in her mind, droning on and on: dad with hot anger, the stranger with cold fury; engaged in a duel of words that would threaten to turn into a tsunami with one more harsh word.

And then, they stopped.

And the door opened.

Maria pulled her hand away from the doorknob that she didn't even realize she was gripping and backed away a bit, in a failing attempt to pretend she hadn't listened in on their conversation. Behind the slightly ajar door was the stranger. The man wore a brown suit, with a neatly pressed cream colored shirt underneath. He looked important and his posture and stern look made Maria panic. Just who had she angered?

"Come inside" he said, and fully opened the door, then moved back into the living room.

Maria entered the room, looking with big, frightened eyes at her dad. He tried to smile, but she could tell it was strained. He looked tired, the fire that had flared in his voice before leaving only smoking embers. Maria felt a tang of empathy for him, but she also felt glad that, despite him shouting her name, he wasn't mad at her. She reached for the doorknob to close the door.

And... the inside of the door was coated with frost. Her mind blanked for a second and, in the awkward pause, her dad closed the door behind her. Her eyes landed on the stranger again. He was now sitting on the sofa, his eyes throwing daggers at her dad. If dad wasn't mad at her, the middle aged man sure was. She took a step back and grabbed her father's hand and for the first time in quite a while, Maria didn't feel like a small child for doing so. They sat down on the couch, both looking towards the stranger.

The the stranger's cold look had vanished, leaving pity in its place as he looked at her.

"You need some help, Maria." he said, voice sweet, as if he was talking to a small child. Maria didn't like that one bit.

But she continued to listen.

He pointed at the frosted door and continued:

"You, like your parents, have some incredible powers. You can control water. But, unless taught, your powers will manifest wildly out of control."

It felt like the floor was swept from underneath her. A raging river of emotions swept trough, and she might have collapsed on the carpet of the living room were it not for the soft couch and her dad's steadying hand. She felt confusion and glee, horror and fascination and the contradicting cocktail of feelings was making her nauseous. All she could manage to say was:

"What..?"

And just like that, her dad dragged her out of the living room and back into the hall, leaving the man alone in the room. The room spun around her at the sudden movement. Maria took a step back, bracing herself on the cold wall of the hall. Her dad still held her hand, rubbing it softly, as if it had been injured. It reminded her of how little kids could be distracted from their injuries by "kissing the pain away". But was this pain she was feeling? The emotions screamed in her ear, some with unbridled joy, others with utter panic. And she still felt nauseous.

She was pulled out of her thoughts when her dad said, in a smooth, sort of quiet tone: "Breathe. It'll help."

Maria took a shallow breath. The nausea was starting to fade. So she took another one. Breathe in two three. Out two three. In two three... The voices were quieting down as well. One rose up from her mind and landed on her tongue. So she asked:

"Is it... true?"

Her dad pet her hair and started talking, in an attempt to soothe her:

"Don't worry about it too much, okay?"

He was avoiding her question.

But she wanted to know.

"But is what the man said true? Do I really have water powers that I can't control? I... I need to know."

At this point, tears were pricking at the edges of her eyes. What caused them to appear, she didn't really know. Her dad squeezed her hand, took a small breath and sighed.

"You weren't supposed to find out like this... The broken sink was an accident, but it was caused by your powers pushing out the water a little too fast. I didn't want to scare you. Fear only makes those powers harder to control."

Fear... just thinking about the word brought out some of the more nasty feelings back up again. All the unexplained accidents that had been happening for the past couple of months... It was all because of her. Guilt gnawed up at her. But was it really her fault if she didn't even know about her powers?

Maria slid down the wall, plopping on the floor with a soft thump. She was starting to feel sick again. So she took a few more breaths, relishing in her dad's soothing touch. And the bad emotions faded once again. The same earnest voice from before appeared, curious to know about these amazing and destructive powers she apparently possessed:

"Did I... also frost the door?"

Her dad crouched down to her level, a faint smile on his lips.

"Yeah... But you don't need to worry! It just takes a bit of practice and mom and I were going to help you stabilize them."

"May I propose an alternative?" said the stranger, who had apparently listened in on our discussion. His tone had changed, becoming a bit business like. Her dad's expression rapidly changed from the gentle crooked smile he had used to encourage her to a stony one, with a clear frown.

"I would like to continue the discussion privately, Mr. Brown."

"Why, I think your daughter has the right to decide for herself if she wants to participate to this discussion herself."

They both looked at Maria expectantly. Dad subtly shook his head, the stranger looked at her with eager anticipation. So maybe participating was what the stranger wanted, but she couldn't let her instinct of stranger danger stifle her curiosity. The discussion was about her, about the amazing powers she didn't know she possessed. About the danger they posed. Didn't she have the right to know?

"I would like to listen to this." Maria said, "It is about me, after all."

The stranger stifled an amused smile as Maria raised herself up off the wooden floor. Her dad's eyes were clouded by some sort of negative emotion that she wasn't able to decipher.

Whatever it was, she had a bad feeling about what was going to happen next. But she breathed again and let it slide down with all the other ones that had come before. And she let herself be guided by that earnest little voice: curiosity.