The Things We Do (Under Editing)

More to Give

"Ow!" The word sounded pitiful.

"Quit squirming!" Mel scolded as she dabbed my face with a cotton ball. "There's no way me bandaging your injuries hurts more than you getting them." I'd woken up to my roommate freaking out over the blood that had dripped across my face. She threatened to tie me to a chair if I didn't let her fix me up. Honestly, I'd been so exhausted when I'd stumbled into the apartment an hour before that I hadn't noticed how badly the skin over my cheekbone had split when pretty-boy punched me.

"That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt!" I turned my best puppy dog eyes on her, trying to win some sympathy.

"It's just alcohol, don't be a baby." Failure. "You, Amelia Hohn, attract trouble." She had no idea how right she was. Mel sighed as she bandaged my face, but she didn't make any further comments.

On the other side of the room, the news was showing the effects of that night's work. Halfway across the city, swaths of West Axon still burned. The blaze had gotten a hold of enough cars that it had enough fuel to keep going for hours, though the fire department would probably put it out before too much longer. 

Most people had escaped unharmed; a few got some light burns. Their possessions weren't so lucky. The TV was muted, but when the shot changed to show an overhead view of the roof I'd been standing on, no commentary was needed. Stark against the cold concrete of the roof, the embers of my message still glowed orange. There on the edge, overlooking the street beneath, two words had been burned into the structure: Phantom Banshee. 

Next, they showed a shaky video someone had taken on their phone. Despite the low quality, you could see me clearly, perched dramatically on the roof, lit from below by the flames. The script across the bottom of the screen read, "Phantom Banshee makes her first public appearance."

Mel's sigh distracted me from the story for a minute. She'd finished bandaging my face without me noticing. "I don't know what drives people like he to do these things." Probably not anything she would guess. 

She got up to turn the TV off, and I caught one last glimpse of the screen. It showed what looked like a freeze-frame from a camera in the detective's car. In it, he and I were mid-fight, caught in the glare of his headlights. The detective was blocking my kick with his arm, and it was nice to think that the metal hooks on my black boots probably left some nice bruises on his wrist. My long red coat and brown pigtails drifted effortlessly behind me as if I'd just landed, and the small black top-hat perched slightly off center on my head was the perfect touch. 

Overall, I was proud of myself. Not only had I managed exactly what Wraith wanted, but I did so while looking amazing. I wasn't done though. In fact, I was just getting started. Wraith wanted the world in ruin, so ruin he would get.

I sighed as I set foot on campus. People had been looking at me oddly the entire way here, but now, they stopped to stare. Luckily, no one asked any questions, or even held my eye when I looked at them. Obviously no one wanted face the girl who had not only clearly walked away from a bad fight on her own two feet, but had shown up to class the next day as if she didn't have half of her face bandaged. The stares were still annoying, though, and I could hear the comments they were making to each other, even if they weren't saying them to me.

I pushed through the crowd, people parting before me in a hurry. The whispers followed me all the way to my Virtualization class. Finally, I escaped into a room full of people who didn't care about anything if it wasn't a computer. Honestly, I love these people. No one asks you questions about yourself and they didn't mind you as long as you didn't screw with their stuff. Well, most of them don't mind you. Others seem to judge you for having the audacity to not be a robot, but those few were easy to deal with. 

I slipped into a seat in the back corner, wincing as I pulled my bag off my shoulder. The other loser with whom I constantly fought for the optimal "don't pay attention to me" seat didn't even look up from his phone as I slipped into the spot next to him.

"You look like you were hit by a truck."

"Aw, thanks. And here I thought it was worse."

"Actually, that's an insult to truck victims everywhere."

I showed him a choice finger. "Hate you too, Elliot."

My phone dinged and I picked it up to find a new message from Wraith.

"You can do better."