𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐤

01⇢introductions

JAMIE

"But... I only have $35."

"Well, it's still $37.96..." the cashier leans forward towards the woman across the counter, "unless you want to pay a different way."

"No, thank you," the woman shyly responds, and I watch from behind the neighboring aisle as the cashier suddenly grabs her wrist, and I decide it's time for me to step in. "Um—"

"Excuse me," I cut in, walking towards the register and firmly ripping the cashier's hand from her wrist, sending strings of vibrations throughout his arm, causing him to fall weak at the knees, "I think the lady would appreciate it if lowlifes like you didn't sexually harass her while she's trying to buy some groceries. Don't you think?"

He frantically nods, and I release his hand, watching as he shakily grips it to his chest before pushing the shopping bags towards the woman. Next to me, the woman looks my way, and I nod, gesturing towards the door, my eyes only leaving when she's made it out safely.

I look back towards the cashier. "Let's not have this repeat itself, alright? There'll be consequences if I catch this happening ever again."

"What kind of consequences?"

"I'll definitely have you out of a job. Maybe some jail time, too."

His eyebrows furrow in confusion. "You won't kill me?"

This time, my eyebrows furrow. "Why would I kill you?"

"Because you're Quiver."

I stand up straight, not breaking eye contact. "Exactly. I'm Quiver. I don't take lives."

His eyes grow wide, and he stutters for a response. I roll my eyes before stepping away from the counter, looking over at the clock on the wall. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to be."

I turn on my heel and exit the store, feeling his eyes follow my every step until I launch myself into the air.

♔♚

Every character is set to have a traumatic backstory followed by years of internal conflict. Interesting, how mine doesn't.

Ready for a backstory? Great because I'm feeling one.

Now, I didn't know anything had gone wrong in the procedure, but years later when I started to feel the quiver, I knew something was wrong.

Did I tell anyone? No, I didn't. I was going to be a strong 13 year-old who could take care of her own problems.

Long story short, I was born with Essential Tremor: constant shaking that I couldn't control or turn off or on, and it scared the living hell out of me.

When I was nine, I underwent surgery and got a pacemaker in my brain. The shaking stopped, thank God. I could finally focus on my life.

But when I was 13, the shaking returned.

I didn't know what was wrong. I had gotten surgery that was supposed to fix it. Maybe something was wrong with my pacemaker?

I pondered it for days before realizing that whatever the problem was, it wasn't going away.

Then another problem showed up. Oh, joy.

One night, my parents went out for dinner to discuss the shaking. Of course, they found out.

I was working on homework that night when a knock sounded at the door. Getting ready to greet my parents, I opened the door, only to find my Uncle Max. He led me inside and explained to me that my parents weren't coming back.