Val The Vessel

14 / Straight Hair

I'm sitting on the edge of a twin mattress near the end of my cousin's toes. Andrea hasn't awakened yet and it worries me. Kayla had laid her tiny body across the living room's faded grey sofa, already thirty minutes into a deep sleep. I want to do the same but the throbbing pain in my chest just won't let up.

"Hey lil' girl."

I feel a cold, rough object brush against my shoulder. It's Doron's hand, snapping me from my trance but I'm grateful for it. He's no longer wearing his intimidating black mask. His hazel eyes are bright and his awkward grin beneath them is almost warm enough to melt my chills away. "Can't sleep huh? You spooked or somethin'?"

"I'm not afraid of Hollow," I answer back defiantly.

"I wasn't talkin' about Hollow. I was talkin' about you."

It's like he knows exactly what I'm thinking and mind-reading isn't even his superpower. I stare at my quaking hands and try to keep them from their jittery spasm. "Doron, how did I kick Hollow through a wall earlier?"

"Do you really wanna know?"

I nod. "Yes, of course."

Doron lets go of a heavy breath as he slips himself out of his chrome suit, undoing the velcro straps fastened around his back. I come up behind him and peel off the remaining few. I notice a black skull tattoo with dreadlocks that's inked into Doron's engorged bicep.

"You got powers, Val."

"Screw off."

Doron snickers. "Ain't it obvious? You ain't never asked yourself why your heart thumps crazy sometimes, like it's doin' right now? And why you got all these blood problems n' shit?" He pauses to mold his costume into a lumpy ball of fabric and metal.

"It's cuz I think you got powers similar to mine."

"But... but... how? I really wanna believe you but... this is just crazy. I don't have powers. I'm not a super."

Doron's final layer of clothing is a tight white tank-top but he tears through that as well and falls back next to Andrea's legs, his sweaty body dampening the plush sheets. "I used to have an older brother," he speaks, staring at Andrea's sleeping face. "His name was Mason. He couldn't stand me, but I loved that nigga. Followed his ass around whereva he went like a lost puppy."

The bed squeaks as Doron arches up his back and slumps forward with a hopeful white smile etched across his face. It's wide enough to cave in his dimples. "Mason wasn't always right in the head. Nigga used to fool around wit' lots of girls and hang with the wrong crowd. He was used to gettin' what he wanted. Same for our oldest sister, Rayleen. She was batshit crazy too. We all were, especially with our superpowers. Just a hood family of supers. I didn't even know how to use my powers back then."

Doron pauses, his expression shifting from nostalgic to grim as he looks wistfully out the window. "They died. Both of 'em. Was made to look like some kinda gang violence, but my bro and sis weren't in no fucking gang. Sure, Mason used to sell dope. And Rayleen used to steal, but they wasn't in no gang. On God."

Doron bats his eyelashes as a sudden weariness overtakes his thoughts. He falls back once more but his eyes are shut this time. "My big sis... used to babysit your tiny ass... yo mom would drop you off at our apartment all the time when we was kids." Doron laughs.

"Yo momma used to straighten your hair back then, but I like your natural hair better," he says as an abrupt end to his story. I don't follow what he's saying, but seeing his tiredness makes me yawn as well. Careful with where I place my hands, I squeeze myself between him and Andrea. I turn on my side so that I can face him—the legendary supervillain without a name—with eyes the color of my favorite ice cream and curly hair that's almost as kinky as mine.

I dream about Doron's siblings and what they were like. It's the first good dream I've had in a long time.