Chapter Two

When Camie woke it was not to sounds she was familiar to. Instead of the traditional whining she'd grown used to, a woman wept uncontrollably in the background. Frowning, Camie sat up slowly. Her head pounded mercilessly, and she felt a nosebleed coming on. As if spurred by this thought blood flowed from her nostrils and into her mouth. Gasping, she reached for a nearby box of tissues, forcing the pieces of paper up her nose to stop the bleeding. Her fingers pinched the bridge lightly and she prayed for it to slow down or stop entirely.

At least five minutes later it stopped, but she kept the blood soaked paper in place. She could hardly remember what had happened last night, all that came to mind was falling backwards and hitting her head on the floor. The memory brought back the pain, and added it to her still pounding head. Standing up slowly she looked around the room slowly, disoriented and lost.

Instead of the light green she had grown used to the walls were a deep purple. Black satin sheets were mussed on her bed with matching thick, black curtains covering the windows. This couldn't be her room. Dark band posters were framed and hung on her wall next to a nearly life sized Phantom of the Opera poster she had begged her mother for.

Stepping out of her room she walked downstairs. Her mother was sitting at the family table, a protruding belly stretching her light grey shirt, her head lying in her hands. Camie's step father had his arms around her, whispering softly in her ear.

"Mom, what happened?" Camie asked, taking a seat across from her. Her mother looked up at her.

"I had another miscarriage, Cam. I didn't think it would happen again," she trailed off, looking to her husband. He leant down to kiss her on the forehead gently, "Don't worry. Once you're all rested up we can try again. We have to be successful sometime, we can't give up now."

"Where's Miranda, mom?" Camie asked, folding her arms. Her mother dissolved into tears again, and her step-father shot her a nasty glare.

"You know that was going to be your baby sister's name! How could you be so cold-hearted?" he held his wife close. Camie frowned, "What do you mean? She's got to be around somewhere, is she at Gena's?"

"That's enough!" the man snapped, "You're grounded! How dare you be so unfeeling and rude to your mother, who's only given you what you've asked for! Go to your room. Now!"

"But mom, you know what I'm talking about, right? Your youngest daughter, my step-sister, Miranda Jane Devos!"

"Go to your room, goddamit!" her step father yelled. With one last look at her mother Camie followed his orders, shutting the door behind her.

Her mind struggled to sort itself out. And then she remembered. The ribbons of her sister, the shattering scream followed by the explosion. Tears stung her eyes. How was it possible that she had done that? All she had said was, "I wish you were never born". Could that possibly mean that whatever she'd wanted would be hers by saying "I wish"? It wasn't probably, and yet. Something within her stirred at the thought. Whatever she wanted could be hers. She reached over to a black phone and picked it up, dialing her friend's number.

"Hello?" a tired voice asked.

"Andrea? Oh thank God it's you!" Camie gushed. There was silence on the other end before, "Who is this? Do I know you?"

"Andrea, it's Camie! Your best friend, remember?" Panic swept into Camie's body. They had only met because of Miranda since both Camie and Andrea had (or in Camie's case, previously had) pesky younger siblings.

"My best. . . friend? I don't remember you, uh, Camie?"

"Yes, Camie Devos."

"Oh!" Sweet relief flooded Camie for a moment. "You're in my Geometry class, aren't you?" The relief fell away.

"Yeah, sorry about this," she hung up slowly. Oh God, how could this be happening? Her best freaking friend didn't remember her, and she was probably preppy too since they'd both turned emo together. With a sound of defeat Camie fell backwards onto her bed, eyes shutting.

"I can't believe this is happening," she mumbled to herself. She fell asleep soon after.

When she woke up it was dark outside. As she rose she felt as though she were a vampire coming out of a hard coffin. Groaning, she put a hand to her head, a loud bass drum resounding through it. Walking over to her nightstand she put a Metallica CD in, allowing the guitar to engulf her as Master of Puppets began. She sighed and leaned against her dresser, thinking about what had happened to Miranda. She wondered if the wishing worked on anything. Puzzled, she thought about it for a moment. A loud, obnoxious knocking on her door shook her out of her stupor. She opened it slowly, her step-father standing before her.

"Where have you been all day?" he demanded.

"I was sleeping," she said shortly, trying to close the door in his face. He pushed it open," You were sleeping all day while your mother and I scheduled an appointment to get the fetus of your baby sister to be removed? What, you couldn't even be there for moral support after what you said to her this morning? How can you be so lazy and selfish?"

"Shut up, shut up!" Camie screamed.

"I'll be quiet when I please, you can't talk to me that way!" he yelled back at her. He pushed into her room and towered over her. She stared up at him defiantly. When he raised a hand above her, she didn't flinch. All she said was, "I wish you'd never married my mother! I wish my real father and mother were still together!"

Time stopped at that moment. Her step-father laughed darkly at her words, but stopped. She watched as his skin started to shrivel and hair fell from all over his body. He began to shrink slowly, screaming for her to help. Funny how he sounded exactly like his daughter. She started to laugh when he disappeared entirely, a sonic boom resounded through the room, knocking her onto her bed in a cold faint. In her step father's place a man began to grow slowly. He was tall with faded and short chestnut hair and eyes are clear as eyes with a dark blue around the edges, and they glowed a dark cerulean. The man laughed as Camie's real father stood in place of the fake one she had known for most of her life.