Excuse me what if you were a wizard

My first year at the university of Nevada at Reno was a real eye opening experience. It was the first time I’d been away from home since my summer camps as a kid. It was also the first time I was allowed to be a wizard at a residential school. I had made my first friends. We hadn’t been relegated to the dorms, instead we were all packed into a big house on the outskirts of town. Roommates weren’t an issue, since the type of magic I carried required me to be alone.<br><br>Every night we would sit around in the living room and talk, but when things really got interesting was when we would tell stories of our past. Some were funny, some were sad, and others were just flat out scary. I hadn’t shared much about my past, and was starting to get complaints from my roommates about how much I knew about them, and how little they knew about me. I tried to tell them it was better that way, that the less they knew the less they knew about what was coming, but they didn’t understand.<br><br>Tonight was the night I finally relented. I had been asked so many times, and I finally decided to share one story. I told them it was the one thing from my past that could be shared, and that anything else from my past was not something to be discussed.<br><br>I spent the first six years of my life in foster care. I bounced from home to home. The longest time I spent in one home was a little under a year. I still don’t know why I was taken from my mother and father, I still don’t know how I became a wizard, and I still don’t know why they took me from so many homes. Some of them, I was treated well. They were nice, and in some cases I even got to stay with them for a little while. Some of them were abusive.<br><br>I was six years old when I ran away from my abusive foster family, and I never went back. I lived on the streets for two years, never once getting caught. I had started getting kicked from foster home after foster home for displaying abilities that seemed supernatural. So, I did the only thing I knew how to do, I ran. I didn’t let anyone get close to me, and I didn’t let anyone into my world. I was alone, and I was okay with it.<br><br>One night, as I was sleeping in a dumpster in a dead end alley, I woke up to see a woman standing over me. Her hair was bright pink, and it fell down to her ass. Her eyes were such a dark shade of green I would have thought them black if I didn’t know better. She carried a sword on her back, and a knife in her boot. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.<br><br>She reached down to me, and put a hand on my chin, tilting my head back. She smiled before she leaned in and kissed me on the forehead. She called me her little witch. She told me she had been looking for me my whole life. She said that she had been waiting longer than that to find me.<br><br>I woke up the next morning alone in a beautiful room. I had no idea where I was, or who the woman in pink hair was. I had no idea how to find her. I didn’t even remember her name. All I had was the memory of her face, and the memory of her calling me her little witch. I was determined to find her.<br><br>Two years later I found myself in a bar, drinking a cup of juice and talking to a guy twice my age. I hadn’t figured out what kind of magic I had, hadn’t figured out that I couldn’t be touched. I still thought she would come for me, to take me away and keep me safe.<br><br>He asked how old I was, and when I told him 10 he asked me to prove it. I was old enough to be sneaking into bars to drink, and even though it was wrong of him to hit on a kid, I figured he was just trying to be sure of my age. I pulled out my ID, and looked him dead in the eye. He smiled and asked if I was sure I wanted to do that.<br><br>He leaned over, and his hand brushed mine. I jumped back and started screaming, and before I knew it the whole bar was in flames. That was the night I figured out that I was a pyromancer, and that was the night I figured out what happened when I was touched.<br><br>That was the night I realized that I was a monster, and I would never find my beautiful pink haired girl.<br><br>My roommates were quiet, and that was good.<br><br>That was all they got of my past, that was all they were going to get. They could live with that.