It’s time to look into a few things. Zoey’s brother, Desmond, kept coming back from the dead anytime he was killed. It wasn’t until he suffered a natural death that he actually stayed dead. Zoey died during the time she was helping fix time. She came back the same way Desmond did. Bright flash of light and influenza of energy, followed by her taking a physical form right then and there.
But how? That’s the question that’s brought her here, to her childhood home, yet again. The hood to her hoodie would be pulled up and the zipper would be zipped up three quarters of the way. Underneath is a black band t-shirt. The bottom of her jean legs would be a tiny bit wet from the grass that’s become just a bit too over grown. Over grown to the point that her sneakers are hidden behind them. Zoey’s eyes hold a faint green glow as her psionic energy flows through her body. She takes a deep breath in, one out.
One foot forward.
Then the other.
Then the other.
Then the other.
Reach forward. Grab the door knob. Memories come flooding in already.
She hates this place.
Standing in the middle of the now dust layered living room, she begins. She lowers herself to a seated position on the ground, and closes her eyes. Her mind beginning it’s work.
The room around her begins to shape to that of her memories. Ceiling fan giving off a faint light. The couch that used to be facing the fireplace. Coffee table with the TV on it. Recliner next to the couch. Two silhouettes. Two voices. Her mother and her father.
“You must be drunk again if you believe I’m going to sit here and let you treat Zoey like that with out some sort of lash back.” Her mother. “She’s a mistake that never should have been born. Only reason why she’s alive is because your dumb ass didn’t drop every ounce of your energy into her damn mind while sh-” A loud smack. The father gets cut off. “I refused to kill her because she’s our damn child! I won’t let you neglect her simply because you didn’t want her!” The mother seems to be a bit angry. Zoey can see where she gets her temper from. “I dont’t want her because-“ Hm. Mother smacks him again. “Because she reminds you too much of Frankie?” Silence. Mother speaks some more. “That’s it? Really? You bastard. I should have left you the moment you suggested killing Zoey.” The mother silhouette storms off. The father fades away. The room changes. More questions rise.
Who the hell is Frankie?
She begins searching for more. To try and find anything new. Something related to this Frankie. Nothing. Back to the task at hand. Something to do with-
She’s pulled out. Back into that dusty old living room. She blinks. She looks around.. No one there. She slowly pushes herself up, looking around to try and find something, anything, that could have pulled her out. Maybe it was the wind? No, it couldn’t have been. “Hello?” She calls out, now getting seriously worried. She can’t sense anyone. So who-
Her mother. She spins around, her eyes shining a bright blue now. The dust on the ground and the walls suddenly bursting upwards. She holds her right hand out, creating a barrier between her and.. Who ever this is posing as her mother. “You’re supposed to be dead.”
“So are you.”
So soft spoken. Does this person realize who they’re messing with? “Who are you?” Zoey asks, raising an eye brow. Her ‘mother’s’ response, “You already know who, silly.” She steps forward, the light now shining on her face, making her features a bit more clear. Small little nose, bright green eyes, blonde hair, slightly pale skin. It’s her mother alright. Right here in front of Zoey.. Zoey’s barrier drops. Tears form.