Free Strife: Hidden Book Four by Colleen Vanderlinden

groups, stealing occasional glimpses at the television, which was still playing the video. Brennan got up from the chair he was sitting in, handed Sean to Ada. He approached me, and Nain stepped away.
    “I have to get him home. It’ll be okay,” he said, reaching over and hugging me gently. I hugged him back. “Is that my fault? Did I do that?” he whispered close to my ear.
    “No. I was tired and stressed out. It’s my fault,” I said.
    He watched me for a second. “It’ll be okay,” he repeated. “I’ll see you around, okay?”
    I nodded then stood there trying to wrap my brain around what was happening. It was overwhelming, terrifying. I had to get away from all of these people. So many emotions pressing on me was about the last thing I needed just then. Everyone walking on eggshells as if I’d lose control at any second was just the icing on the cake. I left the room without another word and walked through the kitchen and out the back door.
    I went into my backyard, started pacing back and forth, trying to quiet the darkness inside me, trying to stop the way I felt wrong in my own skin, trying to stop hating the fact that I existed at all. Cursed the fact that I would be alive forever, and I’d have to keep dealing with shit like this.
    I kept pacing. It was one of those things. I'd always had a lot of nervous energy. Pacing wasn't uncommon. But now, being back and having whatever this was inside me messing with me, I found myself doing it more, almost unable to stop once I got started. And when I was stressed out, which was more and more common, I got into this almost unstoppable pacing pattern, as if my body couldn’t handle the insanity happening inside it, needed some way to try to let off some steam.
    I heard cars pull out of the driveway. I focused for a moment, realized that the only ones left were Nain and my parents. I heard the back door open, and glanced that way to see Nain and my parents standing on the back porch, watching me as I paced between my garage and the end of my yard.
    I knew how insane it looked. A lot of the time, it helped me get under control. I had enough power flowing through me just then that I could have destroyed just about anything. And that was the problem. I didn't want to go out when I was like this. Too much danger of losing control, of an innocent getting hurt if I couldn’t hold it together.
    I was full, nearly overflowing with power. It had grown steadily since I’d seen myself on television, fed by my anger, my fear, my pain. I was so full, it hurt. I clenched my teeth, glanced around for something to let it out on, away from everyone. Nain and my parents continued to watch me.
    There was a large Norway maple across the street, and I focused on it, snarled and unleashed the overflow of power. It hit the tree full blast, and the tree gave a loud, sickening screech as it split, fell over. It landed in the empty lot, one of several.
    It hurt to have the power, it hurt just as much to release it. I bent double, trying to get my breath, trying to wait the pain out. Nain walked over to me, crouched in front of me. He stayed, watching me as it felt like I was being ripped apart from the inside. I looked up and met his eyes.
    “That tree was a fucking asshole. It had it coming,” he said, very seriously, and I couldn't help it. I laughed, just a little, shoving him away from me as I stood up. I heard my parents walk back into the house, closing the back door behind them, leaving Nain and me alone in the yard. I stepped away from him, holding my head, trying to massage away the headache. Trade one pain for another. Kind of the story of my life.
    I headed toward the back porch and plopped down on one of the steps. Nain sat next to me, and I felt a mixture of relief and irritation that he was staying.
    “Do you need anything?”
    I shook my head, stared down at my feet as I willed the pain to stop.
    “Did you have any idea that was happening last night?” Voice a low