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Sierra Amber Cartwright
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[font=timesnewroman][color=black]Her messy brown hair blew around in the wind as she watched the other people on the beach, the laughs and screams of nearby children echoing in her ears. She found herself wishing she could be one of them, a normal kid who didn't yet know that life sucks. Which it did. At least, it did for Sierra.
Reaching up a pale hand, she pulled the hood of her jacket over her head, trying to hide the large bruise on her forehead, one of the many that covered her, along with cuts and gashes.
You'd think it was a gift, being able to heal other people. But it wasn't to the seventeen-year-old, especially seeing as she couldn't heal herself. Every time she did, she also took the pain of other people's injuries, and she hadn't even been able to bear saving her mother, who was in too much pain for a six-year-old to survive. Not that she hadn't tried. And now, eleven years later, she could still feel it when she closed her eyes, hear the screams of her mother as she bled to death. It was all her dad's fault. He was the one that used to beat her every day, until finally he killed her. It was also the day Sierra discovered her power, and her life began to end. Because her dad noticed it too. And he decided she was a freak, and the new person to beat up every day. Of course, he never left anything so bad it would scar, but he always made sure it hurt.
He warned her since she was little that if she ever told anyone what was going on, he'd tell about what she could do and she'd be taken away to be experimented on. So she hadn't told, knowing that that would happen, and her dad wouldn't be afraid to do it. She went to school, kept out of the way, and didn't talk to anybody, trying to spend as long as possible away from her home. And somehow, she managed to survive the torture.
She'd even tried to kill herself. But someone had been stupid enough to save her from drowning, and all that had happened was two months of counseling. So she'd given up, and decided to just kill herself another time. Meanwhile, she was giving life one last chance, which meant sitting here at the beach and staring into space.
Adjusting her sunglasses to help cover up the worst bruise, she let a sigh pass her pale lips and watched the people on the beach with distant grey eyes, no one noticing her. If they did, the worst they could ask was why she was skipping school. Because that was exactly what she was doing, not wanting anyone to see the state she was in. It was even worse than usual, and without sunglasses and a hood, she couldn't hide it.
