Tom let himself rest against the cold brick of the orphanage exterior. Its gloomy gray adequately described every feeling that every passed through its walls. As he folded his arms, he watched the one thing that confused him more than any other. The power within him, the force – that he'd learned to control; it was not strange anymore. This, however, perplexed him in ways he had never imagined.
Her name was Sarah. She had long, red hair and dark brown eyes. She was eleven, like he was, and had been the closest thing to a friend Tom had ever had. When she was near, it was as something inside of Tom wanted to crawl out, to make a break for freedom.
When she laughed, it sent shivers down his spine. He watched her intently, as if bracing himself for something. She always wore a smile, even in this wretched place. She was always cheerful. Tom hated that.
In the seven years he had known her, she had only cried once – when she was first brought to the orphanage. She was three then and, insofar as he could tell, she had not shed a tear since. She was strong. Tom liked that.
Everything else he could understand – from the intricacies of nature to the complexities of mathematics – but she was different. She was strange and made him feel even stranger. He hated the feelings he felt when she was around and groaned when she said his name. It stirred something within him, something he very quickly grew to despise.
When she left, though, he felt something sink within him. Something left him every time she did. Though she only ventured as far as a neighbouring room or the shower, though he hated the feelings he had when she was around, he found himself wishing she were near. He, on a few occasions, even longed for her company. It made him feel weak.
That's why he had to put a stop to it.
He was quiet when the men came for her. He did not blink when they pulled her from the tops of the tree. He watched in silence from his window as her limp body was lowered by pulley to strong men below. She was dead, they said. He knew that, of course.
He was the one that had taken her life.
Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed this little drabble. Please review.