Zumi raised her eyebrows at Vincent as she watched him make a big deal out of teaching. "Interesting." she said when he finished speaking. She found it very interesting, though everyone she ever loved when she was alive was dead, and quite frankly she didn't want to see their faces anymore. This was a new lifetime, this was time for Zumi to live and not worry about the past. She didn't need anyone else, she was tired of the co-dependency she used to have when she was alone and scared.
Turning towards Vincent she lighting placed her hands around one of his. "Do you feel anything?" she questioned, her cheeks turning ever so slightly pink as she held his hand tightly in her small and feeble gray ones. Concentrating with all her might, she made the tingling feeling subside as she tried to burn his hand with the anger and sadness from her past life. "Can you feel it?" she asked, sneaking a peak at him before closing her eyes and sending the pain of being taunted and humiliated through their physical touch. Of course, she overwhelmed herself.
A strike of lightning appeared from her hands with flame flowing around it and Zumi blacked out while her memories were plastered all over the room like a disco ball reflecting pieces of silver at a rave.
A memory of being seven years old flashed across the room, it's source coming from the lighting bolt encased in fire. She was being picked on in her class, a bunch of paper balls being thrown at her while words like "witch" and "evil" were slurred at her, traveling through her ear canal to lodge themselves in her brain. While that was burned like a photo in the fireplace, another replaced it, coming through the burn holes before the first grade memory faded. She was playing in the bathtub and manipulating the bubbles as she had her alone time, sitting in a tub with candles lit and music playing - she was covered by the bubbles she played with, making them float around the room and dance with the flames. Her mother came barging in, even when she was 11 years old now and fully capable of taking care of herself in the bathroom. Shocked, her mother ripped her from the tub and flung her across the room, shouting and yelling, screaming slander and vulgarity as she threatened Zumi before an audible smack was heard and Zumi was on the floor, flabbergasted with a hand to her cheek. Just as you could see the flames flicker in Zumi's dark green eyes the memory burned like the first and she was standing in the snow, looking up into the icy blue eyes of a boy a year older than her. Smiling, he leaned down and planted a kiss on her pale pink lips and she managed to let herself go, causing her to freeze him and make him stumble back. "Freak!" he yelled, though his words were muted slightly by the ice. "You bitch!" he hissed, the ice melting before he got into his car and sped away. The day after that, at school, the words "Witch" "bitch" "whore" evil" were casting enemies throughout the school building. Whenever Zumi visited her locker, there was always a note, or a drawing, that would fall out and declare her as a witch in screaming red letters. Finally, Zumi stopped going to school; stopped eating, sleeping, doing anything, instead hiding herself in her closet and keeping to herself.
