Chapter 1:
Logan Collins
It was raining in Scotland. This meant one thing to Logan Collins. It meant that the derelict bucket that was normally in its allotted space in the cupboard was once again in the far right corner, slowly collecting the water that was coming through the roof.
Drip...Drip...Drip
Logan felt uneasy, as if every drop was counting down. ‘But to what? ’ He let out a frustrated sigh and took another moment, to once again study the drab room that had become ,however much he despised it, his home for the last seven years.
The walls were exactly the same. The pale blue still maddeningly dull, he had refused the staff’s offers to repaint. The exhausted desk that matched the draws and bookcase was on the verge of collapse and A single window littered the left side wall; giving him a nice view of the backside of a factory and an abandoned warehouse. The occasional traffic would rattle the very frame of the room.
All in all the room itself didn’t look inhabited by anyone; apart from the one photograph rested on the bedside table, it was there to remind him of better times. In the photograph there was a young boy of four sat on a man’s shoulders, the likeness between the two was un-canny. They were of course related. The same glowing butterscotch eyes copied twice over seemed to shine with unrestrained love from the elder and childish innocence from the younger under a mop of burnt ochre hair. Cut short for the older and was just overlapping the child’s eyebrows.
Logan’s eyes hadn’t held that much warmth since- Slosh the bucket in the corner had over flowed, causing frigid water to pour through his socks snapping him rather abruptly out of his sentimental thoughts. Logan had seen too many things. Things that fully fledged adults couldn’t have handled; it was no wonder the once innocent eyes had lost their spark.
He knew he was mad. Hell, the other kids knew he was mad the moment he walked through the door of Kingfisher House. They didn’t understand him. Logan didn’t understand himself. It had gotten worse over the last few months. More accidents, more weird occurrences and more power. He couldn’t blame it on some external force anymore so the more power,the more time was spent inside those pale blue walls.
Shuddering once again, Logan slumped into the chair sat at the desk and was trying to remove his sopping socks when another shiver cut through him; due to the rain and the lack of double glazing he was now not only freezing but worried about catching a cold. The good thing about the desk was that it was stationed right in front of the window. It provided a good thinking spot for him when things got too tough. As he replaced his socks, he watched a droplet slide down the window pane. He couldn’t help but think, think about whether life could have been different, if the one person he looked up to more than anything hadn’t died. ‘Moot Point!’ He decided irritably. Annoyed at himself for even thinking about it, he knew what happened when he started thinking about it.
He cast his eyes away, not in the mood to think. Where had thinking ever got him? If he wasn’t thinking about -him- he was thinking about how obviously abnormal he was and he was sick of it! Sick of all of it! He felt like he had lived 30 years of emotional torture instead of the fifteen- well sixteen years in four days time that he had suffered.
Logan’s face mirrored the emotional anguish he felt inside. It was almost as if he was too aware of it, like his mind was trying to reject the thought of his emotions being too powerful. Denial. It was a powerful thing. He knew the truth. He knew that something had been building inside his very soul. Disgusted and frustrated at himself Logan flopped down on his bed. It gave a worrying croak. Shoving the issues away he silently screamed into a pillow, this was his normal routine; get worked up about it and then refuse to think about it-until tomorrow.
It was happening more frequently. Every time it got closer to something other people would associate with happiness. Like birthdays. Or Christmas. ‘The fact it never ended with happiness was beside the point’ He thought and then with a flash of anger ‘No! I am not going to sit here wallowing and thinking about what ifs! Dad would be pissed!’
With that thought in mind he stood and turned to the window, opened it and took a deep breath. The cold air contrasted with the heat of his thoughts. He heard murmurs outside of his door, while groaning he trudged towards the door dreading what the other children had for him today. Opening the door he said “Piss off!” only to receive a reprimanding “Language Collins!” from Mrs Beth the woman that ran the home and a chuckle from an unknown male. “Well don’t just stand there waiting for the grass to grow boy! Move aside and let me and Mr Mackenzie in!”
Logan stood there dumbstruck until he came about his senses and realised he was in fact blocking his doorway with all five foot seven of him. He moved aside to let the stranger and Mrs Beth in. She was wearing a smile to rival the joker and this worried him. He’d only even seen that smile twice before and he had never been on the receiving end of it. Nobody liked Mrs Beth; she was scary, mean and didn’t listen. She had bug like eyes and a teeth spilling out of her mouth and breath to rival that of a garlic eater which if you had done something wrong she would take great happiness get up close and personal so you could smell the vile putrid smell.
“Now Collins I know we’ve had our fair share of differences in the past but today is a good day, Mr Mackenzie has come to adopt you! All the forms are ready so you just need to pack and you can be out of here by twelve!” She said with a giggle that was very girly and totally un- like her. Logan was momentarily surprised that it had come out of her mouth but thought nothing of it putting it down to the exhilaration of him leaving. “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.” She said closing the door with a snap and the click of a lock. Logan didn’t have a lock. Logan hadn’t noticed as he was too busy studying the man who was supposedly adopting him.
The stranger in question had bright orange hair that from Logan’s angle didn’t look real, a wide brimmed hat sat on top of the ‘hair’ pulled down below the man’s eyes and Topped off with a huge raincoat that Logan could just see the outline of a pair of very expensive looking shoes. The appearance of the man only added to the confusion and anxiety he was feeling.
“Nobody ever tell you it’s rude to stare?” The man’s gruff voice rang out with a dangerous edge and a hint of Scottish. Something in Logan snapped at that edge. He drew himself up to his full height and did his best to look intimidating. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware there was a socially acceptable form of conduct when being ambushed.” He said with a sarcastic edge. Mr Mackenzie let out a low chuckle at the sight and stuck out his hand to Logan. “I’m Will Mackenzie, but you can call me daddy.” Logan looked at the hand apprehensively as it waiting for something to jump out at him as he registered what the strange man had just said causing fury to turn his stomach. Logan didn’t know he could feel fury like this. “I have a father!” He spat.
“Right, no more messing around, I know more about you and what you can do than you or your precious father could ever tell you. I want to help and out of kindness of my heart I’m going to help you control it because if what Mrs Beth has just been telling me you’re not doing a very good job at staying anonymous.” He said sitting down at Logan’s chair near the window and peering at him from under his hat.
Logan’s fury was quickly dissolving into bemusement as he tried to understand the stranger’s words and motives. He didn’t know what was going on, he thought he was mad. But here this guy was sat at his broken desk telling him that it might not all be in his head. “So I’m not mad?” he asked tensely. The man at the desk chuckled once more and shook his head. “No Logan you’re not mad. You’re an Empath.”
Logan didn’t have time to react before something dense struck him in the back of his head and darkness became his reality.
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