GraphicSilly
I had to get away.
I had to escape my past, my actions, and my reputation. Everything and everyone. Myself—my terrible, horrible self.
So I ran. And I wasn't going to stop until either I died or I was caught, whichever came first.
Darkness consumed me as I entered the forest's thick wall of trees. The wind whistled a sickly tune as it weaved itself through the dense branches. Leaves and dirty debris crunched under the weight of my long strides, giving warning to my every move. My legs grew heavier but I kept my pace, hot tears slowly creating wet paths down my face while the sweat and blood on my hands continued to dry.
Suddenly I saw a small opening of the brush in the distance, and I slowly gained on said little valley until it revealed the entire night sky. Not that this provided me with any more means of seeing than before, for the moon and stars had been swallowed by black storm clouds that looked near ready to burst.
I was almost through the clearing, almost out of that vulnerable position when it happened. When the above abyss was split by a forceful crack. The last think I physically comprehended was a thundering noise crying out just before I did. Light overpowered the darkness for a short second, before completely fading once again. Immense, fiery pain ate at my entire body, until It didn't anymore.
Until I wasn't myself anymore.
•••
I followed her.
I followed her this time because she was everywhere I was. It couldn't be merely a coincidence anymore. She had been at the grocery store, just as I came in to buy lunch. She was at the newspaper booth and near the payphone. Then she was sitting alone at the fountain, a perfect opportunity for me.
Maybe she knew who I was.
Am.
Because nobody else did, and I sure as heck didn't know. I had seen myself in the mirror. My temple grew bleached strands and vibrant blue eyes were set deep into my boyish face. I seemed to have a frail build for a man, but I didn't mind that. Still, none of these features stood out to me as my own, it was as though I was looking at anyone else.
"Hi," I said.
She looked up to me, pretty blue eyes studied my own, "Hello there,"
"You're going to think I'm crazy, but do we know each other?" I asked her.
"We might, what's your name?"
"I don't remember..." I admitted.
"Oh," she said, closing notebook that was rested on her lap.
"I actually don't remember much at all." I hesitated at first, but my words seemed to spark her interested, so I continued. "No one around he recognizes me. I have no idea who I am—or, what I am."
She cocked her head at my correction, "What do you mean?"
"I'm not normal anymore. I feel like I used to be, but those days are long gone now."
"I still don't understand, sir,"
"Neither do I—" I paused for a second or two, lifting my shirt just enough for her to see the stale wound.
Surprise lit up her sharp facial features as she moved closer to me, tucking her auburn curls behind her ear in concentration. She examined me closely for several moments.
"Unbelievable, right? I think...I think I was struck by lightning."
"That would explain the web-like burn patterns," she exhaled, and ever so delicately brought her warm fingertips to the array of painful lines that scattered themselves from my torso up and through my right arm, "You're very lucky to be alive."
"That's not all either," I spilled. I didn't know why I was telling her so much, maybe I was just excited to be exchanging thoughts with another human. But she took in my every sentence so well, never looking at me with a judgmental gaze. I needed that. "Ever since I woke up from the accident, whether lighting was involved or not, I've felt some kind of... energy."
"Explain." She told me.
So I did. I showed her how the street lamps flickered when I walked past. I showed her how I could create sparks by just snapping my fingers together. I took her out to that little clearing I had awoken in three days prior. I showed her the blackened, torched grass and how the dirt had split. I showed her everything.
She couldn't believe it either.
"Phenomenal." She awed, "You're almost super human now. As if you had the power of—" she then stopped herself for some reason.
I was indeed a mystery. And I wanted to find every piece to the puzzle.
"I need you to try to remember the night of the accident," she then said in a pleading tone.
I winced. Every time I tried to remember, it hurt.
"Please," She reinstated, "you were out here, running, how come?"
"I—I can't." I try to tell her, shaking my head.
"You had done something, hadn't you?"
A flurry was sent into my head, a thousand tiny sharp pains danced around in there, bouncing and rubbing up against each other, with my overpowering heartbeat racing in the background. My fingertips ached with a numb feeling I couldn't quite explain, "I-I don't,"
"Try harder, try to remember what you did. Why were you were running?"
The pain didn't hurt anymore, but it still intensified, giving me a weird feeling that made me want to just squirm out of my own body. Every vein in my person was itching to burst, my limbs were shaking and my skin was hot to the touch.
Instantly a handful of memories flooded back into my hyperactive mind. I closed my eyes, trying to calm the flashes, and clenched my burning fists. Blue sparks flew all around, and she took cover while I screamed, "I hurt someone!" My voice tightened, "I hurt them because I wanted them to know what I felt!"
Everything went quiet, and I dropped to my knees gasping for air. My pulse slowed, and my brain stopped searching for the stained conscience it had finally forgotten.
Perhaps I didn't need to try to find out who I was before I was struck.
Maybe I needed to figure out whether I was still the villain—or the hero.
