Snippet #2079910

"Crystal, wake up!" Crys, (which was her nickname, but seldom used), heard a voice say impatiently, almost as if it was threatening her.
"Alright," Crystal groaned. It was a Sunday. No school, and it was 7AM. Why does mom want me to get up again? Last time Crystal's mom woke her up early was to beat her-nothing else. She had always been coming in late, as a Timer, so her mom would always be seething, waiting until the morning to hurt her. At least she was considerate enough to wake me up at 7, Crystal thought.
When she was on duty, her pager showed dots, red or blue, according to their moods. Red stood for miserable, those people wanted time to quicken. If majority of the dots were like this, Crystal slowed time, clicking a red button. If someone was feeling extreme elation or sadness, etc, the dot would change to orange, and beep loudly, and I would manipulate the time specifically for that person, the tricky thing was, that I had to make sure, that sooner or later, everyone's time matched up to the measurement of each second.
Although this job was cruel, grueling, and pointless, Crystal felt like her questions had been answered. She always wondered why time seemed so... strange-everything always went in opposites.Crys now had her answer. She had been a timer for 4 years, but she had never used her powers-except... for the time when she killed her best friend-on accident. Ever since then, Crys has never, ever, spoken of ice, used ice, or even bothered to think of it.

(I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M TYPING. LOLOOLOL. T___T)