Dad made me the greatest scorched steak ever.

LANCE

When I got home Dad is in the doorway. Frowning at the same time struggling to keep his lips from reaching his ears.

"Dad, you look creepy."

"Am I?" he unfolds himself from leaning against the wall and pat me on the shoulder. Guiding me to get inside. I stopped to look at him.

"What?" he asked.

"What?" I asked back.

"What what?"

"I don't like the smug look in your face Dad." I removed his hand and marched straight to the kitchen. When I get there, I saw horror. A horrible horror story of food.

Dad he… he actually made me steak and chicken soup. Just like what he promised earlier.At least that's what he meant to cook. Now I see black charcoaled irregular lump in a plate and a water with hazy black and white floating stuff in a bowl.

"Dad?" I see him grinning. Feeling proud of his meal.

"What are you waiting for? Let's eat."

This is gonna be a long night.

I immediately tried to sprint towards the living room. Dad leapt on his seat to stop me. He attempted to make a grab on my wrist at the table. I smack his hand away. I jump at the kitchen countertop and tiptoed to bypass him.

He lunge at my feet. I somersault at his shoulders and land perfectly in the floor. Gaining two big leaps to the sofa where the telephone is.

"Damn. Where did you learn to jump like that?"

I didn't answer him. I dialed the diner half a mile from here and ordered pizza. Today I want Hawaiian, with pineapple. Pizza is nothing without pineapple. After placing two orders, Dad is glaring at me behind his seat. Eating his own charcoaled chunk.

"Ugh, this is disgusting." He throw the steak at a perfect arc in the trash.

"Tell the delivery boy to add another order. Let's eat pizza for dinner. What a waste of money this garbage is." He spilled the content of the bowl in the kitchen sink and dump the bowl in the trash bin.

"Aren't you going to wash that?" I asked.

"And does neither of us knows how to wash dishes?" He asked while scowling. I grinned.

"Nope. Buy another paper set of plates and cups Dad. Our stock is running short."

He grunted what seems like a 'yes' under his throat and open the fridge. He takes out four of his usual beer and placed them on the living room table. Waiting for the pizza to arrive we both sat on the sofa, scouring through the TV channels.

And all the while we never talked. My mind keeps going back to the old man earlier. With his burnt wings, his last words. A part of my mind is egging me to believe him. That all of it is my fault.

And I have a destructive power that could cause death to others. But if we look at the facts, the possibility is slipping farther away from my grasp. Powers don't develop in a day. It takes years, at least that's what movies and books portrayed.

"Dad?" No choice, I must ask Dad the question I should have asked from the start. This time, I'll properly listen to him, without dismissing his words as paranoid or crazy.

"Yeah?" He stashed his first beer in the trash bin at our back. It got perfectly inside. Sometimes I wonder if he's a basketball varsity player in high school.

"Dad, why do you keep training me?"

He arched his eyebrow at me.

"Where did this question came from? Was it the girl? Did you tell her? Did she say it's weird?"

"No. No." Damn, I forget I used the blue rose giving girl as an excuse to slip away.

"I can't help but wonder you know, with the constant traveling and changing school. I'm not complaining. Because I love the idea of going from place to place too. But what's really struggling is… being the new kid. It's so hard to adjust. Not to mention falling victim to bullies. Dad, what exactly are we hiding from? Is it related to you teaching me how to fight?"

The beer in his hand made a bloop sound inside the can. He's shaking it while staring ahead. I can tell he's thinking. He's still sober. Looks like I chose a wrong timing. I should not have asked after all.

"Lance, you turn fifteen today right?" I slowly nod.

"Then maybe that man will come and find you here. I guess it's high time I should tell you everything." He puffed air after he said these words.

All my attention is on Dad and not on the TV. Impatiently waiting what he has to say next. Somehow, I have a bad feeling about this.

"Back when I was a cop, I left your mother alone in the house. With the one year old baby you. We had an exhausting investigation back then. Stayed up five nights in the office. On the night I came home, I found your mother. Lying dead on your crib. No signs of break in or physical wounds. Heck, the test runs clean. Poison, chemical ingestion, we did every test we could think of. Trying to find the cause of her death. But, nothing comes up. It's like she just died. Naturally. With no form of external force involved."

Confusion washed over me, too overwhelmed I don't know how to react. This is the first time I'm hearing about this.

"And you know what's weird Lance?"

"Because I'm still alive and Mom's dead?" My tone came harsher than I meant to. Bitterness swept over me, worse than going to school almost impaled in the foot because of Dad's harsh attacks. Which I barely deflected and got hit every damn minute.

Is that the reason why Dad is strict with me in training? Because deep deep down he wants me to disappear? Because mom died while I lived on?

I exhaled a shaky breath. Why do I feel like it's a crime for me just to be alive?

Dad must have read my thought for he pulled me tight in his embrace and said in a croaked voice.

"No. I dreamt she will die on that very same night. Straight for two weeks. And I didn't do anything. Because I didn't believe in it. I never did. That man told me you are special. Something about a chosen one. And someone's gonna come to kill you. I neither trust nor accepted his words. You were already special to us, to me and to your Mom. She made plans…for you…for us. Where we live, how she will raise you. What school will you go to. What standards will she set for your future girlfriend. We were supposed to live a normal life. And then…she's gone."

I dare not move. I dare not talk. I dare not breath. I listened to Dad's agonized voice. As if telling these things to me is painful. Too painful it opens up hidden scars. Aching memories that rekindle mangled past. Forced to be buried but can never be forgotten.

"Dad...when," I hesitated. My voice suddenly got stuck in my throat. I tried again.

"Dad, when you said someone will come and find me here...who do you mean?" My heartbeat is deafening my ears. Getting in the way of my hearing. But I pressed on. I want to confirm something.

"The man in my dream said 'A Seeker will come and seek you out. To teach you how to control your power.' Until then I must train you for preparation."