The Undoing Of Heroes | ✓

twenty two

(a/n: this is such a weird dedication, but i really didn't feel the tug to write as much as i used to, but when i read @EmSlough 's latest note in one of her stories about how she was plagiarised and nothing was being done about it - i thought, she just keeps writing, just keeps creating for her fans, even though she's been ripped off and backstabbed by her own community. so thank you for standing up for your writing, because it made me realise that the creative process is really something great, and drove me to get this chapter out even faster for my lovely peeps. so thanks )

twenty two

HER LECTURE seemed endless. It annoyed me, and my knees and limbs hurt thanks to my crouching by the small window. 

Whatever happened to the crouching in the dark every night kind of endurance? I wondered, while watching her answering questions, smiling so wide it must've hurt. 

Happiness. Hurts like a bitch. 

But then, finally, finally, she began thanking the crowd, thanking the onlookers for their patience, their support. Playing her role. 

"Thank you all, and good night." She finished, bowing to the crowd, who in return broke out in an applause. The bright spotlights dimmed as the usual lighting returned, the energy and electricity unknown to the onlookers, but thrumming in my veins. In my head. 

It was a constant, dizzying beat who didn't cease, as I placed a hand on my forehead, willing my racing heart to calm down. 

What the hell is happening to me?

The lights swam, meshing with the moving forms, with the dark. Groaning quietly, I moved away from the window, into the pure moonlight. 

Seraphina's lecture had been longer than I'd anticipated, but allowed me the easy return to the motel, covered in shadows and darkness. My home.

My legs wobbled, and I felt unsteady as I tried climbing down without falling and breaking my leg. The air was sizzling, and the house was blinking uncertainly. One moment it lit up, bright like New Year's Eve, the next dark and mourning. 

People flocked away from it hastily, while one figure remained, clutching a camera tight to her chest, bright flashes illuminating the night as she recorded the events. 

I gasped, clutching my chest as sharp bolts of light flocked from the house to me and back. I felt heady; head swimming in a dense fog, only faint traces of electricity visible. Then my vision blackened out, and I went blind. 

Panicking, I reached out in complete blindness, fingers touching the soft leaves of a tree, then the rough texture of a lower branch.

I tried to focus, tried to reign in my powers, but they refused, bucking and bending away from my will, like a fluid river overflowing. 

Overflowing. 

Perhaps ... perhaps they were overflowing. I didn't use them nearly as much as I used to, and if I could recharge them ...

I could overcharge them. 

While the realisation sunk in, my vision returned, but not in the way I'd imagined. I couldn't see the half-moon, or the silhouette of the small building Seraphina had held her lecture in. I couldn't see the trees, the heavy fruits they bore. I couldn't see anything but an intricate pattern of thin, blue lines. Power lines, I realized with a jolt.