Pain and Power

_-_-Chapter 4-_-_

He heard voices, sometimes; a stark contrast to the blank world that he lived in.

There were a few of them.

There was the woman who spoke to him softly, telling him about people whose names escaped him, and that he had to wake up, and that she loved him so, so much. She cried a lot.

Then there was the man with the deep voice, who usually spoke in hushed whispers when there was snoring around them. He would just beg him to wake up. Say that he was scaring everybody. Say that everything would be okay if he woke up. The man cried sometimes, too, but never as loud as the woman.

There were other voices, that came and went; the boy with the high voice. The business-like sounding lady. The woman who spoke quietly when nobody else was around.

And then, there was the little girl — the little girl that told him everything and anything, though he forgot most of it very quickly. Who always sounded happy and excited, and spoke with a sort of childish innocence that somehow drew him in.

The girl was talking to him now.

"And Nebula is really, really, really really really, really cool. Daddy said she was with him when he was in space!"

This time, there was something different about the voice. It felt more tangible than usual. Less distant.

"And — and Natasha said that I could call her Auntie! Isn't that awesome? She lets me call her Auntie Nat like Cooper and Lila and Nate to do!"

And it came with pain, now. Pain all around him, throughout his entire body. He felt as though his skull was being torn in two, while someone repeatedly threw a bowling ball at him. His entire right side felt like it was submerged in liquid nitrogen; so hot that it felt horrifying, painfully cold.

His ears began to ring, so much that he felt like his whole body was shaking, and their noise started to drown out the sound of the little girl.

"Mommy says that I'm not meant to be in here alone, because something bad might happen and I'm not a grown-up, but she's asleep, and Daddy said that she doesn't need to find out, cause he'll be back soon."

He felt bad for the little girl. She was so obviously young. So clearly upset... and he seemed to be the cause of it. Presumably, whatever had made her this upset was the reason he felt so much pain, everywhere.

He couldn't remember what it was that happened to him, though. And trying to remember was like trying to catch fog — irritating, pointless, and impossible.

Well... he could remember things, sure. But only general things.

He could remember math, and vines, and the gleam of sun on city buildings. He could remember science, and TV, and movies. He could remember superheroes, and Spanish, and what a bagel was.

But he couldn't remember himself. Who he was, what happened to him... anything. He couldn't remember who the woman that cried was, or the man with the deep voice, or the little girl. He couldn't remember how he knows them.

He drew at straws for a while, wracking his brain for answers, but got nothing. He had no clue who he was.

A weight pressed against his left side, snuggling into him, and he assumed it was the little girl.

"Daddy and Auntie May said not to tell Mommy that I go on your bed sometimes, so don't tell her!"

Was she his sister? A friend? A cousin or a niece? Who was she?

Who was she to him?

The girl started laughing beside him, the sound light, happy and carefree. Her laughter was making her vibrate slightly by his side.