Painful Power, Powerful Pain

1. Strangers and Scoldings

Most people squint their eyes at the sun. For me, I stared at her, my sun, because I couldn't think of a world where I wouldn't. She looked like the embodiement of every living, moving creature, sounded like a world of choas, her footsteps skipped against the earth in soft demand, she smelled like honey, and had a sweet tooth strong enough to battle a hummingbird. But, she could also burn. Burn like fire, like ash, and nothing burned worse than when she left.

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One year

One Year since the last time I felt afraid. I used to be afraid of everything- the dark, the sun, heights, the children on the playground, the creaks in the floorboards. That all went away after a while, replaced by apathy, but now that ugly feeling crept back inside me. Footsteps, light, yet harsh, echoed against the earth, prickling my feet. Someone was following me.

They were smart with it, but also very uneducated. Most people wouldn't have noticed their presence at all, but I could hear their steady breathing from a mile away, and felt their heartbeat thrumming in my head, the air smelled slightly of sweat and lemon soap, and if I wasn't wearing my glasses, I was certain I'd have seen them too, light waves adjusting to their shadow, however far away.

I hated it. I hated that I was afraid of this person, and yet I didn't know who they were, what they looked like, or why they had deemed me so interesting.

My own heartbeat was as loud as a police siren, pounding throughout my brain, and almost deafening me to their continuous footsteps. My feet took me down a number of random turns, and I found myself not caring that I was lost, I just wanted to lose them. But they somehow managed to keep up, always at the same distance of relatively 200 feet away. It irked me to no end, and on top of my pounding heartbeat, my head was bombarded with noises of my teeth tearing away mercilessly at my gums. The taste was awful too.

This wasn't good. I wasn't thinking clearly. In truth, my brain was my only useful aspect, and currently it was being clouded with loud anxious noise, and thoughts cascading at a hundred miles an hour.

While I took a deep breath in, which made me flinch slightly at the dust particles that piggybacked on the air as well, I pulled out a piece of cinnamon gum. The flavor quickly washed away the disgusting taste of air clinging to my mouth, and my thoughts began working more coherently. My fingers began tapping my thighs through the thin, transparent gloves, and my mind rushed towards a number of ideas for escape.

The first was an absolute no. My quirk could easily distract the person in a million different ways, but it wasn't worth it. Not now, not ever.

The second was to continue on like this, hoping to lose them through using an incoherent number of twists and turns. But that wasn't working, and with the few passersby in the annoyingly pristine neighborhood, no one would come to my help if whoever this stalker was, tried something.

I could, of course, dial the police. But the measure felt extreme, and I was certain my mother would throw a hissy fit and yell at me for being 'overdramatic'. She really hated involving other people into our lives.

I wasn't sure what to do. Perhaps it would be smart to go up to one of the houses nearby and explain that I felt someone was following me, and hope they could help. But, most people in the neighborhood would think I was a thief, and at best call the police. Which put me in the predicament from solution number three.