Your Superhero

Chapter 14

Hope

"It's even more than yesterday," he says, anxiously inspecting my hair. I feel his gentle touch on my scalp as he moves hair around to get a better look at the affected area.

It's a whole patch of hair that's turned white by now. Several nights spent carrying his... my pain. At this point I'm not even sure it matters anymore. It's a burden we carry together. My hair's testament to that.

I tried taking it from him the night after I first did, but I just couldn't. Couldn't bear it, didn't have the energy, and he seemed almost relieved when I shook his shoulder after only a few minutes and told him that I was sorry, and that I couldn't. So we're not doing it every night, now. Only every few nights, one or two nights in between and I can cope. And it helps him, too, but he doesn't seem to like it. He keeps fretting over my hair, staring at it, making me aware of it.

I bat his hand away. "Stop it," I tell him in a mildly annoyed tone. "I've got places to be."

Last night had been the first time I set a timer so I wouldn't be too tired today. It's been announced again and again for some time now. They call it 'field training', but really it's just that the healers join the combatants in their exercise and heal their wounds. So we can get some 'real' practice in.

Well, I suppose it's the next best thing. Because putting students through the full pain of having an arm chopped off only so I can practice a little? Yeah, that doesn't sound very ethical.

I finish tying my laces and shoo him out of the way so I can get up and into the bathroom. There, I tie back my hair. It's not really that I need a mirror for that, but I've started experimenting with different hairstyles a little and though I probably wouldn't ever admit it, I like to look at myself.

Is that weird?

Probably.

But what isn't, these days?

I like the look of the white hair. It gives my face the good kind of asymmetric look. I also liked 'my' hair before it started getting white, but I don't mind this. Sometimes, I even find myself being strangely proud of it. Like it's a badge I'm wearing.

Look at me, it seems to say. I did something good.

Even though that's only half true.

Is doing the right thing for the wrong reasons still right? Some would say so. I wouldn't. Helping him doesn't make me a good person, I have to remind myself of that.

I try to shrug off the thought, focus on the girl in the mirror. The beautiful girl.

I still don't get how he was able to just leave that behind.

I might want to ask Ezra to teach me a few braids sometime. Or probably not. He has to preserve his energy, even if he has a lot more these days, now that I regularly help him sleep. No, Maria will probably do a good job, too. I doubt Emily would even know what I'm talking about.

I leave the bathroom, leave Ezra and our room behind. He won't be joining me, he is neither a combatant nor a healer. He's trained with the psychics for a few times now, he says meditation might help him.

He still hasn't gotten his proper powers, of course, so I guess it's as good a place to start as any. Even though I doubt he'll turn out a psychic in the end, it's still a useful skill to have. And if it helps him...

"You look glum," a particularly cheery voice says from behind me as I begin descending the stairs. I turn and see Maya standing there, grinning at me. "Aren't you excited to see us all suffer?"