Imdalind 01 - Kiss of Fire

for the necklace and tortured for my mismatched clothes.” My mom looked down at my outfit as I gestured towards it, her face breaking into a gigantic smile.
    “It does look bad, doesn’t it?” she sighed. “I thought your grandmother would have more style sense...”
    “Well, if you limit her to pencil skirts, she does great,” I scoffed.
    “At least the bag is cute.” Her comment was innocent enough, but it stopped me dead in my tracks, the smile draining from my face. All I could do was nod and stare at it. It was cute, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what could be inside. Any other person who had been abandoned by their father would throw it away without a second thought. Yet, I was drawn to it. He had left because of the mark. Maybe the letter would tell me something about it, maybe he had found something out, or maybe it was a plea for us to let him come home. I couldn’t stop thinking about the possibilities, my heart beating uncomfortably at each one. If I was smart, I would have just thrown it away.
    When I got home, I ran to my room with only a hurried goodnight to my mom. A shower would have to wait, changing would have to wait. I ripped open the bag and dumped the contents on my white bedspread. A small dirty package and a piece of paper fell out, each one leaving gray grease marks on the spots they hit. I looked at them - the package or the letter? I opted for the package; get the gift out of the way so I could focus on the letter.
    I grabbed the small crumpled paper and began un-wrinkling it into a flat mass. There, amongst the dirty folds, sat a pure white marble; it almost looked like a pearl. I looked at it in disbelief. How could my wayward, possibly homeless, father afford to give me a pearl. It must be fake. I knew there was something to do with teeth to be able to tell if it was real and so I reached out to grab it with the full intention of biting it in half. But, the second my fingers came in contact with it, a shock of white-hot heat seared through my arm. I jumped back, cursing, wondering what my father had sent me.
    I stepped closer to my bed, stopping as my head spun on my shoulders, my vision tracking and my stomach heaving a bit. I steadied myself, waiting for the spinning to slow and cursing whatever food poisoning I had gotten at the restaurant.
    I looked everywhere for the bead, but the white pearl no longer lay in the dirty wrapper; instead, one of deep purple had taken its place. I moved the dirty paper around; I searched over my bedspread, but no other pearl – of any color – could be found. Luckily, when I grabbed the purple pearl no shock shot up my arm; the small marble was only very warm. I couldn’t help but be a little mad; it seemed like a cruel joke for a renegade father to send his daughter something that zaps her. I placed the purple bead back on the wrapper and picked up the letter. Silly really, whatever was going to hurt me the most was going to be written on the paper. I opened it, a shaky breath flowing out of me.

    My Dearest Jocelyn:

    Great, he doesn’t even know how to spell my name right.

    My Dearest Jocelyn:
    I write this letter in the hopes that my parents will deliver it to you, and find you well. Happy Birthday!! I can’t believe that 11 years have passed since I last saw you. I am sure you have grown into a beautiful young woman. Do you have a lot of boyfriends? Tell them to be careful or your dad will get them.

    I was torn between laughter and frustration; it seemed odd for a man I hadn’t seen in so long to be giving me advice on how to threaten boys. I almost put the letter down; maybe I should have.

    I hope you are doing well in school and not giving your mom much trouble.
    I know I have not been a good father. I would apologize but I know I would not gain your forgiveness, and in truth, I do not want it. I would have taken you with me if your mother had not hid you from me. You probably don’t even remember that day; I suppose it is better that way.
    I do need you to know what I have found, and why I left. I knew there was something more to your mark than the doctors could tell us. When I was in college a young man by the name of Thom who was in one of my classes, had something similar; and one day we found him gone, his dorm room trashed.
    I was so afraid that the same would happen to you, that you would be taken from me, my precious daughter. And so, when your mom would not listen, I left - to find proof. And I found it