Spectacular World

This Looks Like A Job For...

Hope banged through her front door, slamming it behind her. She nearly cringed at how it bent and twisted under the pressure of her new strength.

The sound of the door opening must have alerted her mom. "Hey, Hope, welcome back- Oh dear God, what happened?!"

She didn't answer, turning the sink on and throwing her hands under the water. She stared in silence as she watched the red begin to drip off of it and into the sink. Her heart was beating faster after the encounter with the thugs. She assumed it was fear.

She nearly jumped when she felt a pair of arms wrap around her from behind. "Hey, are you okay?" Her mother murmured.

She turned the water off, drying her now blood-free hands. "I think I made a mistake." She rubbed at her eyes, which were starting to become a little wet, then at the spot at her neck from where that knife had shattered. It was all still so fresh in her mind. She had run straight home, doing her best to avoid everyone.

"You got into a fight, didn't you?"

"You should see the other guy."

"What!"

"I mean, I ran into a pole? And also punched it?" Her mother only glared at her, placing her hands on her hips. "You're not buying that, are you?"

"No, I'm not. But honestly, you don't look that bad. What happened to your glasses?"

She chanced a look in the mirror and couldn't help but stare in shock. She looked fine. The slap mark on her face was gone, as were all the bruises that had been inflicted on her. All that blood hadn't been hers...

"I got in a fight at school." Her mom didn't get a good look at her. The woman hadn't seen how much blood there had actually been.

"Oh, is that all?" The woman sagged in relief and snorted. "I thought you were going to say you killed someone or gave birth to the antichrist."

"You're taking this very well."

"Well, are you on any drugs?" Her mom asked, giving a snarky smirk.

"I'm not on anything, mom!"

"Seriously? Damn, you're boring. I was high as a kite constantly in high school-"

"Mom!"

"I'm kidding." Her mother reached over and cupped her face. "I know your father taught you better. The other people started it, I'm guessing."

"Yeah."

"Is it finished?"

"I think so, yeah."

"Then I'm not mad at you. I'm worried. But I'm not mad." Her mother checked her watch, biting her lip. "I could call into work if you want."

"Nah. I'll be fine. I'll wash up and go to bed. I can handle cleaning myself up."

"Hope-"

"Dad needs you more." She squeezed her mom's hand. "You can't miss any of your shifts." Her mom worked two jobs. One early in the morning, from six to two, and one later in the afternoon, from four to midnight. All so they could pay for those ever-increasing hospital fees.

Her mom finally relented. "There's money on the fridge. Order yourself something. I'm going to visit your dad in the hospital. I'll tell him you said hi."

"Okay, I'll see you later." The house was eerily quiet as her mother finally left. She collapsed onto the couch, face first. "I'm such a coward." She hadn't even been able to tell the whole story. The TV blinked on, and it was something about the Victorian. It always was, though, nowadays.