Splatter Paint

I had been fifteen then. A scared, shy, and anxious fifteen year old. Because I had to keep my power a secret. Sure my friends knew I could do something, but I never got into the specifics. We were close, but not that close. So I told people I had a super mind, mind reading, or I could teleport stuff, move things with my mind, or something. I had told my local restaurant owner I could change the color, and shape of things. I changed the color of things a lot when I got emotional. She didn’t mind much though. Didn’t ask too many questions. I had painted a mural of an afterlife paradise outside her building once, and the mural was done for cheap. So after my mom left me, and I was old enough I spent a lot of time there. It was in walking distance, and had the best coffee. I loved sitting up at the bar, and nursing a hot drink. It kept me awake enough to do big projects, and I like the bitter-sweat taste. Besides it relaxed me. Coffee was still my favorite drink, but I no longer took it with lots of sugar, whip cream, and caramel drizzle. I had ordered dinner for myself this time. The waitress had went to the back to put in my order. I’m still grateful she did to the universe. I sometimes think about what could have happened if she had been in the room. I could sense it before I saw them. Sense danger approaching the door. I thought the question: Danger? Then the information came flooding in: Three middle age men, one middle aged women. All four armed with rpk m64s. Each have on them fifty extra bullets each. All wear black. The woman Sarah Crane has on a black, cloth hat. She is the mother of…. All while my brain continues to whisper about the temperature of the ovens in the other room, the quality of the wooden furniture, and how the electricity in the building worked. I start to move to get up. The mug, I must have still been holding it, clatters to the ground. It shatters. It had been white. It turned green with fear. Dark colors spread across the room. Dark green, sickly yellow, black, and dark grey. It spreads out across the floor. It turns the tables, and chairs grey, and the walls into a gradient of colors. I start breathing heavy. They turn the door handle. I hold my bag closer. My phones inside it. Who would I call? Not like I have anyone’s number. In case I need to run. Like now. I can feel my sketchbook beneath the fabric. I had wanted to start working on something new. That wasn’t going to happen now. I might die here. I think as they enter. I look around the room as the the dinners finally realize what’s going on. Fear, fear, fear, afraid. What’s going on, they think. Why do they have weapons, someone else thinks. I have to get back to Bianca, thinks another. My brain tells me. It’s not really helping the paralyzing fear. I stare in horror as the four people block the doorway. They spread out slightly. Their eyes locked on me.

“Jessa Blocks.” The man states not asks.

“Yes?” I manage out. What could these people possibly want? Did my mother say something? Would she do that?

“I apologize on behalf of our employer, but it’s for the good of the humanity. With an ability like yours.” They know my true ability? How? Physic. My mind answers. Who? Willsbane. Then they raise their guns. The people in the building start to run in other detections. Bullets fly. My mind whispers about air velocity in a quickened pace. I defect the bullets in other detections. I watch as the group plows through the patrons in order to get to me. They clearly don’t care about casualties. I think I scream. Then everything not nailed down gets blasted back. The room changes. Bones break, and fracture. The atoms making up skin, and mussel tissue rearrange. Glass shatters. Wood breaks, and reforms. Messy, broken, and pointed. Everything is green, yellow, purple, black, grey, and red. There’s lots of red. It’s over the walls. The floor. What’s left of the bar. Red, and all the other colors. Like splatter paint.