teenage tragedy (Max Mayfield)

1. five

Camden left Mike's after another few hours so she could make it home before her mom and dad did. Steve was blasting music in his bedroom and doing his hair when she passed by his room, so she didn't stop by to say hello, just locking herself in her bedroom.

She sat on the end of her bed, trying to process what the hell she'd just seen in that void.

Not only was her dad not really her dad, he was one of the men who had hurt her, and then he was the man who tried to protect her from the other men who wanted to hurt her, like Dr. Brenner. It was bizarre to understand and she knew she was missing some key information, like how Callum Smith went from the man torturing her to the man who died to protect her.

But she knew she'd had enough with her visions tonight, so she decided she was going to forget about her father or not father, or whatever, and focus on the information she'd learnt about herself.

She, apparently, had seven superpowers.

The first was super strength. Camden couldn't remember ever having exceptional strength, but she wasn't one for getting her hands dirty. If any heavy lifted needed doing around the house, Peter and Steve were the ones to volunteer.

She looked around her room before her eyes landed on the dresser. It was an old antique one, one that belonged to her mother's mother before she passed away, made of solid oak wood. Steve and Peter could barely lift it for more than a few seconds, so if she could lift it, it would prove she had superstrength.

Camden stood up and walked over to it, moving her trinkets and record stacks off of it and onto her bed, then crouched down. She slid her hands underneath the wood, one on either side of the dresser, and slowly pushed herself back up into a standing position.

The dresser came easily with her, wobbling against her chest as she tried to keep it steady. It wasn't heavy, not for her, but it was hurting her fingers where the grooves of the wood were cutting into her skin.

She put it back down slowly and put her trinkets and records back on top.

"Huh. Guess they weren't lying about that one," Camden mumbled.

She sighed and then looked around.

"What was next?" Camden mumbled. "Trajectory manipulation," she said.

She knew from being a secret smarty pants that trajectory manipulation was the ability to manipulate the direction of an object. She could, essentially, control things with her mind if she learnt how to do it right.

Her pale pink teddy bear caught her eye, sat in the middle of her pillows. Camden stared at it, willing it to come towards her, but it didn't move.

"Well, this is bullshit," Camden said, putting her hands on the end of the bed.

The teddy bear fell backwards onto it's back and Camden frowned. Her bed was too big for the impact of her just resting her hands on the bed to have moved the teddy bear. She looked back at her hands, then at the teddy bear, before yanking her hands towards herself.

The teddy bear came right with them, hitting Camden directly in the face.

"Oh, fuck!" Camden hissed, looking at the teddy bear now lying at her feet. "Well, you hurt like a bitch," she said.

The teddy, obviously, didn't reply, not that Camden expected it to. But she knew now that she could control it with her hands, at least, so that was helpful.

She put her hand out flat, palm upwards, and made a 'come here' gesture. The teddy bear stood up slowly and Camden grinned, moving her finger in a circular motion. The teddy bear spun around on one leg and she laughed, moving her hand to make the bear do a little dance on the floor.