Chapter Two - Cora

Tears roll freely down my cheeks and I struggle for air as weep. The sound of a scream fills my ears. It takes me a few moments to realize it's my own yells. My own pleas. My own begging that this hasn't happened. That my parents aren't lying on the floor, holding each other, both of their stomach's ripped to shreds. Mother's neck is oozing with the crimson blood I kneel in, her once sky blue, now frosted-over eyes staring into mine. Father lies partially underneath her, his muscled arms wrapped around her torso. She must've been struck first. He must have caught her, just before he was hit with the killing blow. Father's jet-black hair was slicked back every day he had work, now it's messy and covered in his own blood. Every knife has been taken out of the knife-block, and they lie scattered across the kitchen. Some are still in my parents bodies, some lie on the floor, covered in blood, yet seemingly untouched. 

I cross the small space between us, hardly able to see with endless tears filling my eyes. I grab my parents heads and cradle them in my arms, sobbing into Mother's hair. Their skin is still slightly warm but is cooling quickly. If only I had been here sooner, maybe I could have stopped this.

No. There is nothing I could against a serial killer. If I were here, I would have been killed too. 

I take deep, shuddering breaths, trying to calm myself down, but then I remember the people in my arms and I cry harder than before. My grip on my parents hardens as I claw at their bodies. "Don't leave me!" I scream between sobs. "Don't leave me all alone! Come back! Come back!" 

I don't know what I expect to happen as I weep. For them to squeeze me gently and say they'll never leave? Or for them to jump up suddenly and say 'surprise'? 

"Shit, not you, too." 

A sudden voice makes me jump as I fumble with my parents bodies. Without thinking, I pull the bread knife out of Mother's torso and spin around on the balls of my feet, launching the knife at whoever has spoken behind me. The knife flies through the air at a rapid speed, aimed right at the head of a tall, skinny man, with a light brown coat wrapped around his tall frame, and a plain white button up shirt underneath. His hand comes out of his coat pocket at an alarming rate, grabbing the knife inches before it hits his face. 

His grey eyes widen, surprised, yet not alarmed. "You've got a good arm, kid." 

I jump to my feet, almost slipping in my parents blood. I am forced to let go of Mother and Father as I run for my life. I remember seeing a gun in Father's bedside draw a few years ago, when he told me to look for his glasses. I've been taught to use one just like the model he has. I race to my parent's room, watching the strange man out of the corner of my eye. He bends down, placing the knife on the floor, his eyes staying on me as he does. I force the tears from my eyes, so my vision become somewhat clearer. I lunge for Father's bedside table, yanking open the draw. I shuffle through the things in a hurry, eager to wrap my hands around the gun. I don't know who this man is, but if he's here, that means he's the killer who's come back to kill me, too. I find the gun and jump back to my feet, turning the safety off and pull back on the leaver, putting the bullet in place. I rest my finger on the trigger and aim it at the man who just entered the room. As soon as he sees the gun in my hands, his hands fly out of his pockets and above his head. 

"Woah, woah," the young man says, his eyes wider than before. A lock of golden blonde hair is untucked from behind his ear, falling in front of his large eyes. The top half of his hair is tied up messily at the back of his head, which a few extra pieces falling over his face. The lower half of his golden hair is left out and untidy, too short to put up with the rest. His grey eyes move from the gun, to mine, where they seem to soften. "I'm sure you know what you're doing with that thing, but I'm not here to hurt you, I promise. It's Cora, right? My name's Todori Carnell. Look, I know you're scared –" 

"Scared?! You're damn fucking right I'm scared! You have no idea what it feels like to have your parents murderer, you fucking psycho!"

The man's eyes twitch. "Trust me, I do. My parents died the exact same way. Now please, calm down, let me explain: I work with your parents -"

"You're a dentist?" I snap, steading my stance. My legs feel like jelly and my heart is racing, but as long as I've got the gun, I have the upper hand. I can't let him see my fear. 

The young man blinks. "Dentist? Is that what they told you? That's not a bad cover-job, they're certainly smart enough to be dentists." 

My mouth hangs open slightly. "What the hell are you blabbering on about? Are you a dentist, or not?" 

"I am no dentist, I work for the government," Todori Carnell's eyes shrink, now they're serious and intimidating. This new look on his face makes my skin crawl. Either this is the face he pulls when he's telling the truth, or the one he pulls when he's lying. I have no way to distinguish which one it is. "Your parents are not dentists, Cora, they've worked with me and my agency for almost twenty years. They retired two years ago. The only reason I am here is for a checkup, what with those murders that have been happening lately." 

"Agency? What agency?" My voice is starting to lose its ferocity. "My parents are dentists." 

Todori Carnell sighs and closes his eyes. "I work for a company called the Disparate Corps, which is looked over by the government. I work with people who are called Disparate, to handle cases too dangerous for the ordinary police to handle. Cora, do you know what a Disparate is?" 

I shake my head after a brief moments hesitation. My arms are starting to shake. He better be quick with this explanation and get to the part where he says he's come to kill me, so I can shoot him in the head, before my arms give out. 

"Disparate are a special type of human who are born with supernatural Abilities," the young man says, his stance relaxing. "My organization is made up of those people who use their Abilities for doing good. We're a bounty hunting agency, of sorts. We also handle hostage situations, terrorist attacks and other Disparate who use their Abilities to do damage to those around them. Your parents were part of this organization. They were Disparate." 

My eyes widen. The street lamps. I knew something as complex like that couldn't possibly have been done by a normal human. But these Disparate have supernatural Abilities. For someone like that, maybe manipulating the metal of the street lamps is a simple thing to do. 

"And you … you're a Disparate too?" 

Todori Carnell nods. 

"How come I've never heard of Disparate before?" I snap, regaining my ferocity. He won't trick me like this. "And why did my parents never tell me they worked for a government organization? Dunno, seems made up to me. Seems like the only reason you're here is to kill me, just like you killed my parents." 

Todori Carnell's eyes glass over and his gaze drops. I lean back, surprised by this sudden sadness he shows. "Those two were like parents to me. When I first joined the agency, I was twelve. Like I said, my parents were murdered too. Your parents took me in and trained my Ability. They looked after me in ways my own parents never did. I would never even think about harming them. And as for never hearing about Disparate before, that is your own doing. Only ten percent of the human population are born with these Abilities, but it's pretty well-known people have them." 

I lower the gun a little and ease my stance. Todori Carnell notices this and raises his gaze, straightening his back. "When I came here tonight, I wasn't expecting to see them both dead and you being the only one to survive. I was hoping to finally meet you in person and catch up with your parents. After all, it has been five years since I saw them last. And then I finally had an excuse to see them," he sighs and lowers his arms, placing them by his side, "I'm thinking about giving you an opportunity. I think your parents would have wanted this to happen if they ever died … So, my opportunity is: you can either try your luck at an orphanage for the next two years of your life, before you're eighteen and can live on your own, or my organization can take you in. My boss will legally adopt you and you'll work for us. We also give free accommodation to our employees and we can teach you to use your Ability –" 

"Look, I appreciate the offer," I lower the gun and place it on Father's bedside table. If he wants to make a move, my parent's have taught me self-defense for the past eleven years. I'd like to see him try to take me out. I freeze. But he said he's Disparate. I don't know what his Ability is. It could be dangerous. "But you said your agency is only for Disparate. As you can see, I am not one." 

Todori shakes his head. "You have a fifty percent chance of inheriting an Ability from your one of your parents. And seeing as both of your parents have – had – one, that percentage goes even higher. It's almost one hundred percent. A, yours hasn't developed yet, and b, there's no way of telling which one you'll get. I think you'll do great at the agency. After all, your parents are pretty famous around the world for their work." 

"They are?" My voice is hoarse from crying. All harshness and ferocity has leaked out of it, leaving the childish eighteen-year-old voice behind. 

The young man nods. "I'll give you a new home, Cora. The Corps will be your new family. If you want us, that is. If not, I wouldn't mind if you chose an orphanage over us. Look. I understand you're scared. Your parents just died. But I really am telling the truth. I really have been told so much about you. I really do want you at the Corps. I want to take you in, just like your parents took me in." 

Tears begin to fall down my cheeks again. My knees crumple under my body and I start to sob. A warm hand pats my shoulder. Todori? He crossed the gap between us so quickly.

"Sorry to rush you," Todori's voice is deep and soft, yet crackles slightly. Is he also trying to keep himself together? "But I do need an answer as soon as possible, so I can contact my boss." 

I sniff and pull myself together. The tears stop in an instant. If what he's saying is true, then my parents thought he was a good enough person to save and keep under their wing. I shake flick off his hand and rise. "Shit, I'll go. Mother and Father wouldn't have wanted me to stay here and sob over them the whole night." 

Todori nods and rises too. "We'll leave in five minutes, then. Gather just a handful of things, someone will come around tomorrow to get the rest of your belongings." 

I nod, too, hesitating before leaving the room. If I walk out there, I'll have to see them again. I can feel Todori's presence beside me. "If you don't want to see them, I'll make a blindfold for you to wear and I can help you navigate your way out. If you want." 

"Seems a bit much, don't you think," I look at him through the corner of my eyes. He looks ahead, eyes aren't glassy like before, but they're still a very dull grey. I sigh, being the first to move into the kitchen. 

We pause at the space between the kitchen and my parent's bedroom, staring at the two corpses and the endless amount of blood. After a few moments of hesitation, Todori takes a huge step with his long, skinny legs. He flicks his wrist over the oven, turning the dial above the elements. 

"Stir-fry," he mumbles, "yum." 

He exits the kitchen now, stepping over the blood. I go to do the same, then remember my blood-soaked clothes and walk through it anyway, leaving sticky footprints in the blood. I try to avoid making eye-contact with my parent's bodies, but I fail miserably. A cold shiver rushes through my body and an acidic taste rises to my mouth. I hunch over, spewing the contents of my stomach all over the floor. Tears prick at my eyes, but I force myself up again.

Todori notices and doubles back. "You ok?"

"Fine."

The tall man pauses. "I'll have some people over tomorrow to remove the bodies and clean up the blood," Todori says, his voice low and quiet. "I'll also arrange for a funeral in a few days' time." 

Down the hallway, we pass the huge family portrait that was painted two years ago and remember the agony that came with standing completely still for three hours. Mother told me we'd get another one done in five years and I had complained the whole car ride home. I guess that won't be happening anymore. I blink several times, ridding my eyes of tears and swallowing the lump in my throat. 

"I'll wait outside," he leaves without another word, closing the door softly behind him.