Milayna by Michelle Pickett Read Free Book Online

mattered.
    “Milayna.” My mom spoke for the first time. “Our family is the same now as it was yesterday. You’ve just learned some things about your heritage. Just because our family is different doesn’t mean we don’t love each other as much as any blood relations could love one another.”
    I nodded. “I still wish you would’ve told me.”
    My parents looked at me, their faces soft with love and understanding. A shimmer of sympathy stirred in their eyes. “I’m sorry, Milayna, but we just didn’t think you were ready,” my dad whispered. “Or maybe, we weren’t ready.”
    “What makes me more ready today than yesterday?”
    “Your visions. You need to know why you’re having them.” My dad reached for my hand, but I moved it away from him.
    “Why? Because I’m this… this demi-angel? Well, I don’t want to be a demi-whatever, and I don’t want the visions.” The fury and betrayal bubbled up inside me, singeing my stomach lining. The acid burned my throat. “I don’t want the visions!” I yelled, jamming my hands through my hair. Fisting my fingers in the red waves, I pulled at them. “They’re horrible. They aren’t just visions , either. I feel things too. They’re painful. And sometimes, I hear things. And the stuff I see? I shouldn’t be seeing it!” I looked at my parents. “No one should.”
    My dad’s shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry—”
    “Whatever.” I grabbed my book bag off the floor. “I have homework to do.”
    I took the stairs two at a time. My sneakers squeaked against the wooden floor as I ran to my room. Slamming the door behind me, I fell across the bed and grabbed a black pillow. It was covered with hundreds of different colored smiley faces. Disgusted, I tossed it across the room and buried my face in a plain black pillow that matched my mood.

 

    Seven weeks, four days until my birthday.
    Though I’d heard the expression ‘ seeing red ’ before, I’d never actually believed a person saw the color red when they were mad. It was just an expression—a way to tell someone that a person wasn’t just mad but pissed. I was wrong. I’d know. I was that mad. It was the morning after I’d learned I was supposedly a demi-angel, and the more I thought of it, the angrier I became. I was mad at my parents. Mad at Muriel. Mad at my grandma. Mad at the world in general. I wanted to be mad.
    I’d gone from shocked and confused to thoroughly pissed off. Demi-angel, my ass. I refused to take part in their little family of angelic freaks.
     
    ***
     
    I spent the entire weekend in my bedroom. I even skipped our traditional Saturday morning family breakfast, opting to sleep late instead. Well, actually, I wasn’t sleeping. I was sitting on the window seat overlooking the front lawn when my mother knocked on my door and asked if I was coming down. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t sit across the table from my dad after he’d lied to me. I didn’t even want to be in the same room with him. It was his fault. My life was ruined because of my dad, and I hated him for it.
    I only left my room to go to work or grab something to eat when my parents went out. Somehow, I managed to steer clear of both of them.
     
    ***
     
    I didn’t wait for breakfast Monday morning, and I didn’t wait around to ride with Muriel. Instead, I got up early and drove to school in my beat-up Chevy, which was filled with old burger wrappers and Coke cans.
    The day progressed quickly. I wasn’t ready to face Muriel, even at school, so I cut second-period calculus class. I felt the sting of betrayal run through my veins when I thought about her. We’d always told each other everything. At least, I thought we did. Now, I wondered what else she’d kept from me.
    But beneath the noxious betrayal ran another emotion. One just as strong, or maybe even stronger. Muriel and I had a bond, and I missed her. Longing tore through me like scissors through a ribbon. I felt like I was on the other end of that