Turn Out The Lights

I Wasn't Expecting That

Octavius and I planned to get married the summer after next, one week after my 18th birthday. We had it all planned out, and we were making good money with my company and our hero agency. We moved in together and were never apart. My clothing brand became a makeup brand as well and was doing very well in markets in and out of our state. Octavius and I were dominating our state when it came to most arrests and overall busts. We made it to number one in the hero team category. Octavius became the number three hero in our country, and I became number two. Everything was going so well for us, and we had done it together.

We were getting closer and closer to our wedding date, and it felt like we were on top of the world. Then, a requested team up came in. They needed Octavius to help manipulate a security system on a huge drug bust a state over. He would be gone a week, we'd have a month off to get married and have our honeymoon, and then we'd be back to work afterward. The week came and went like it was nothing. It was pretty normal for heroes not to be able to communicate while out on longer missions, but one week turned to two. That was fine though, sometimes missions took longer than expected. I decided that we could reschedule the wedding, and donated our party to our local homeless shelter. Then it turned into a month, and I knew something was wrong. Maybe they'd missed their big opportunity, and had to wait for another one. I let Charlotte and her boyfriend go on our honeymoon, it could all be replaced I said. A month became six, but they told me to keep waiting, that there was no body sent to us, that he was caught up in something bigger. I worked more often than not, just to keep myself busy. I started breaking records for numbers of arrests completed by one hero. The awards meant nothing, I felt numb. Suddenly a year and two months had passed, and they told us to come to the airport. We were met with a body bag of a charred body with no teeth. I was asked to confirm that it was my husband. I bawled and said I didn't have one.

We held a closed casket viewing for him. It was beautiful really, with all of the flowers, and the big picture of him and I from our engagement photos. It's traditional to wear your costume to a funeral of a hero you worked with. It felt weird though, partly because my costume was all white at that point, and partly because it was like I was just another person he worked with. When it came to our eulogies, his parents went first. They spoke of his childhood, and showed us pictures of him with a bowl cut and giant ears, smiling widely. A few friends and family members also spoke. I was asked to speak, but when I stepped up to the podium, no sound came out. I stood there, sobbing silently. Tears flowed down my cheeks, and everyone else began sobbing as waves of my sorrow rolled over the room. My brother and mother came to pull me into another room so I could control myself. We stayed there for the rest of the event, trying to keep as many people out of the room as possible. His burial didn't go much better, but people were better prepared and stood on the other side of the grave while he was being lowered. My brother held me to keep me from following his casket into the ground.

I cried for three days seemingly straight, and then suddenly, the tears stopped. I went back to work and continued just like before he was returned to us. My mother asked me to move back in, everyone was beginning to get worried that I wasn't taking good enough care of myself. I complied but didn't stop working. I didn't care about anything but work anymore. My companies were flourishing. I paid off every debt in my family's and his names and donated everything that wasn't put back into my companies. My mother asked me to save something at all, even if it was only a little. I kept half of what I was making and let it sit. They told me I wasn't eating enough, so I cleared out the fridge more regularly. They said I wasn't bathing enough, so I lit myself on fire to burn off all of my bacteria. My mother asked me to work less, so I sat in the house for 4 days before she suggested I get a hobby or some friends.

I left the house and went to our favorite bookstore. As I walked I passed that same two-tailed cat just like I did every time, but this time she clawed at my pants, asking for love. I asked the clerk who's cat it was, and he said it was a stray, so I picked her up and took her to the vet. I filled out her paperwork, paid for her shots, and took her home. I spent all my time with her, and she stayed in my room more often than not. Eventually, my brother asked what her name was, and I said I hadn't thought of one. He said I should call her Miso, because she was brown and white, like the tofu and broth of the soup from Octavius and my favorite restaurant.