It's Not Magic

Twenty

1 Week Later

My ribs feel great. Everything feels great. Kane's been working with me on my abilities, and he's even been able to figure out how to make them more controlable, though he won't tell me how he knows.

You know, Kane doesn't tell me much of anything. I don't think I know anything about him except his first and last name, and his ability. Dead accuracy, even if his gun was facing in a different direction. Kind of like Deadshot, a superhero from one of my brother's ancient comics. I've called him it a couple of times, and I don't think he likes it.

I'd tried asking him a couple times about his past, but he always changes the subject, or says something like "it doesn't matter who I was before I came here." I call bullshit. It has everything to do with it, I mean, if Cam were still alive, my whole life would be different.

I feel I deserve to know why he seems to be lurking around every corner, like he's waiting for the next attack, like he's anticipating someone to show up on his doorstep. And why he seems determined to give me a shit ton of food. Not that I'm complaining about food, but I'd like to understand the sudden change in behavior from the first couple days I was here.

"Matthews!" Kane yelled, his voice echoing in the stairwell behind a closed door. The bullets had finally stopped firing.

"What?" I yelled back, carefully turning my body so I was somewhat facing the door without hurting my ribs.

When I didn't get a response, I sighed, turning off the television. Throwing the remote on the cushion beside me, I stood up, walking over to the door. Pulling it open, I glowered down the staircase.

"What, Kane?" I yelled, leaning against the doorframe.

"You need to train!" He yelled up the staircase, something clanking against metal. Probably his guns.

"I trained yesterday!" I whined, my brain still feeling the affects of trained for five days in a row. "And the day before that!"

"Do you want to have control over your magic?" He yelled back up the stairs at me, squashing my argument.

I cringed as he said my magic. It really wasn't magic, but everyone here seemed to think it was.

"I was going to visit Max and Wally today!" I hollered back at him, trying to make it clear I wanted a break.

But Kane wasn't that easy to convince. He seemed to think that in order to control my magic, I needed to practice every day for at least an hour. With no breaks. Add that to the short list of things about Kane that I know.

"They're coming over later!" He yelled back. Dammit. Just leave it to Kane to make sure that I somehow got in training. "And so is Hain! She wants to see how much control you've got over your magic!"

"So you're showing me off like a show horse?" I yelled back at him, starting to get pissed.

"Hain demanded it, Matthews!" He yelled back, sending my anger. "I can't do anything about it."

"You could've told her no!" I screamed down at him, focusing on his guns on the wall. The ones I couldn't see.

"And what? Let you recover somewhere else?" He replied smoothly, his voice still raised as he came into view. His locked with mine, and I understood what he was saying.

My focus broke as I blinked, realizing what was at risk. "Where would—"

"Somewhere where she could monitor your progress. It'd be a lot less nicer than this," he replied easily, his thumb looping through his belt, close to his gun. "And I'm sure they'd work you a hell of a lot harder than I am." He stopped, letting that sink in. "She wouldn't let you visit anyone either, Matthews. No more seeing Bray or Tate. Do you really want to do that to them, to yourself?"