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"Where I lived before," I began. "They weren't exactly kind to me. The woman, Mrs. Anderson, she actually seemed to hate me. She learned early on in my stay there that I seemed to recover very quickly, actually much more quickly than anyone else I have heard of."
Beckham's face had turned a pale ashy color and he looked sick at what I was telling him. I hurried on before I lost my courage.
"It started small, with just basic bruises disappearing quickly after she gripped me too tightly. Then I think she started to experiment. In the end she liked to burn me more than other things."
He opened his mouth, but I continued on, wanting to finally get it all out.
"It wasn't just healing though. It was things like my hair too. She hated it for some reason and one of my first nights there she hacked at it, practically tearing it off rather than cutting it."
I stared off into the water now, remembering the feeling of dread I had looking in the bathroom mirror after she had cut all of my hair off.
"I remember running my hands through my hair. It was cut so short that I just knew it would take years to grow back. I went to bed that night distraught, but when I awoke in the morning, it was all back."
I took a deep breath.
"Strange things like that have happened throughout my life. I suppose it's a relief to have something to attribute it to, rather than just thinking I am some kind of freak."
I finally glanced away from the water and dared to look at Beckham. His face was one of rapt attention.
"You said that she…that she burned you. I assume then that she also made you bleed?" he said inquiringly.
I wondered why he would ask that specific question, but answered anyway.
"Well actually, no. I have a condition. I think its fairly mild, but it must have scared them enough the first time they cut me that they were careful to never make me bleed again."
"A condition? What kind of condition?" Beckham asked me quickly.
"My file says that it's some kind of hemophilia. But I apparently eventually stop bleeding since I'm still here," I answered, laughing a bit self deprecatingly.
"You don't have hemophilia, Eva," he stated emphatically.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"For a supernatural, our blood holds a great deal of power. Did you see anything strange when they cut you? Can you not think of any other time when you have bled?"
I wracked my brain and realized I really couldn't think of any other time where I had bled. I couldn't even think of a time when I had fallen and scraped my knee.
"I passed out when they cut me after the blood started falling," I said slowly. "And no, I can't remember ever bleeding before. That can't be normal," I said, starting to feel a bit hysterical.
Beckham pushed the food aside and moved closer to me, stroking my arm reassuringly.
"Everything is okay, Eva," he said sweetly. "Supernaturals are not exactly known for being clumsy, so it would make sense that you couldn't remember having any sort of accident that would make you bleed. If that woman…" he paused, seeming to need to get ahold of his emotions for a moment. "If that woman cutting you was truly the first time that you had been cut, then the rush of power released from your blood could very easily have caused you to faint. I'm sure it scared those monsters to death."
He paused, seemed to be lost in thought.
"I do wonder why your file would have said you had hemophilia though."
He shook his head and tipped up my chin so that I was looking at him.
"I know this is a lot to take in, but I will try to answer whatever you want to know," he told me, seeming so earnest that I felt like I could trust him with anything in that moment.
"So obviously you and Mason are also…supernatural," I said, the word supernatural feeling awkward in my mouth.
"Yes, we both are," he answered, looking concerned that I was going to bolt at this.
"But you don't know exactly what you are?" I asked hesitantly.
"You were listening to quite a bit this morning weren't you, angel?" Beckham said with a smirk.
