Young Adult Fiction Narration
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
North American (General) North American (US General American - GenAM)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
When I get into the main room, esteban is hunched over the butt of his gun, jabbing into his belly while he blows on the sparkling kindling to get the fire to take hold of the wood, I walk up behind him silently and sweep my hand over the fire, playing with the sparks jumping into the air over the wood sparkling crackling and then the kindling bursts into flame. I step back and sit down next to him. See that he glares at me is the only way should use your gift. I smile sheepishly at him. You're still angry. He falls off his crouch and props himself up with his hands. The weight hanging on his shoulders is visible. I know he stresses over me all the time. It's not as if I'm trying to make this harder for him, although I don't help ease his stress either. That's for sure. The long moustache falling down around his mouth makes him look like he's scowling. It's off putting to some, combined with the divots, scars and pockmarks on his surly face. He could easily be mistaken for a nomad. A criminal. But I know him. I always know when he smiles. There is only a hint of it there for a moment and then it disappears. He reaches for my hand and I slide up next to him, esteban holds my hand tightly in his and I lay my head on his shoulder. No, I'm not angry. His thick voice rumbles. It always reminds me of smoke filtering through rocks. I'm not sure why. It's rough but soothing. Rawnsley, if anything had happened to you, it didn't. But it could have. I close my eyes and pushed away the pain in my body. You don't trust yourself, Perdida. The fire crackles and echoes in the large home. Maybe I trust myself too much. No conceit and confidence are not the same, he says, raising a finger to me. You're arrogant, You let your guard down. And then you relied on cheating to save your life. It's a street fight. I can use whatever means I have to kick ***. No rules, remember? He shook my hand hard. No. Maybe if everyone you thought was like you, if others begin to notice your power, no one will fight you. We won't have the money to live, or worse, they'll kill you. With the public being so close, they'll turn you over at the snap of a finger. Do you understand? I watched the flames dance around in the fireplace, aware of his words. I've seen people sacrifice friends and family to the public to save their own skins. Simple people whose strongest talents are the ability to read and write are taken off to be studied, altered or killed. No one knows. If anyone wanted to receive leniency from the public, all it would take would be handing me over, esteban's word, sink into my gut. And I know he's right. I know he is. We'll practice you here for two days and then we practice more. Practice. Practice! Practice. You rely on your strength only, not your gift. You will learn to feel comfortable in that ring. In any circumstance. He curses in spanish brands lee. I've taught you since you were a nina. You know what to do. I know and I won't let it happen again. You always say that this time. I mean it good. His voice rumbles. Get some sleep. Your body needs to recuperate. I'm going to get some flour and water to fill your bruise stomach. He kisses my forehead and moves bracing his knees to stand when he leaves the house with his gun, everything goes silent. The only sound to keep me company is the crackle of the fire. Slowly. I pushed myself up and drag my body into my bedroom. The mattresses sunken in the middle, but it's more comfortable than the hard floor, even with the odd smell, but with no heat in the house except for the popping fire down the hallway. It's frosty. I'm tired, but the cold will not dissipate. My mind filters out into the living room and focuses on the fireplace, holding on to its energy with my power. I pull it inward, letting it radiate through my body. The last thing I recall is the twinkling of the stars outside the window winking at me from above