Fireline. (Young Justice fan fiction)

Chapter 1- Not like them.

All my life I’ve been lonely, not like those teenage girls in movies, but really lonely. And confused.

I can do things, things that no one I know can. I don’t feel like I’m one of the good once, but I’m not evil, or I don’t know. I just know that sometimes I get overheated and that nothing can stop me then, I’m like fire that gets gasoline poured over it. I explode if you’re unlucky.

I looked down at my beaten up convers that were drained by the rain that were pouring down, I could feel the water that just poured right through the fabric made shoes.  I know, not the best thing to wear in a cold November night in New York, I just took them because they were the first pair I could grab when I stormed out from my grandpa’s apartment.

My grandpa was an old man, he, most of the time, couldn’t even remember my name, hell no sometimes he couldn’t even remember me. This thing only got worse when grandma died last year, leaving me here with him alone, my parents died a couple of years back. No one nearly talks about them, now of days.

I looked up at the grey town, I hated it here. I really did. Everything was…was just so….GREY! I felt like falling into a depression any minute now! At first when I moved here, I was 13 and thought that I was super grown up, I thought it was fun, there was so much to see and I already loved everything because of all the movies, you know? It was New York New York right in front of me! The Time Square, Statue of liberty, the streets, the shopping malls, the people? It was everything I thought it would be at the start, but after a while I realised that movies are just that…movies. Nothing exciting happened after a couple of weeks, the streets stared to look familiar, the people started to become annoying and rude, and the line to Starbucks was only getting longer.

Nothing ever happens to a plain Jane in this town. Nor any other. Even if I weren’t a plain old Jane right on through, I was, as I said, different.

The rain started to pour down even harder and I realized I really should start walk back home, or somewhere else, I would get a cold if I stood here any longer.

I swallowed a feeling that was trying to make its’ way to my head, I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to. But still it couldn’t help but spread. What if it happens again? What if I get overheated? Last week my feelings and thought were a little unbalanced, which only made the overheating worse, but the thing was that now of days it feels like I can stop it, and sometimes I could. Sometime I don’t need to become IT. It as in something that wasn’t human. But it comes with a price; it comes back even harder whenever it wants to after, and not just when I’m angry or upset. And last week when I was asleep it did. And when I woke up my whole room was on fire.

What if I hadn’t? What if the fire had spread and then killed the only person who loves me, even if he can’t remember my name sometimes. How would I be able to live with that?

I stared in front of myself, realizing that whatever I was I wasn’t something good.

I started to run, run fast and hard. My feet bounced on the wet concrete as I ran up the street, where was I going? Not home. That was all I knew. Not home.

I slid down the alley wall in the dark night of New York, the air was burning holes in my lungs after my run and the tears had started to well out from my eyes. It stained.

I dragged my knees hard to my cheats as my body started to shake in the cold night. The wind stated to blow hard against me, making its’ way through my knitted shirt to colloid with my skin that send shivers through my spine.

Everything was so cold, so grey. So not living. I wasn’t even living. it felt like I only went on pretending to live because that was the only thing I could do. What was I supposed to do?  Kill myself? Believe me I’ve already tried. It doesn’t help.