Deception | NaNoWriMo2023

Chapter Four: When This Is All Over

I don't want to be here. It's not that I have anything against group therapeutic bonding or whatever, it's just I'd rather pet cats than solve a 3D jigsaw puzzle while making awkward conversation with a girl I've only just met (if within the last month counts as "just").

Actually, I'd rather pet cats any day than take part in group therapy, but it's part of the rehabilitation program so I can't skip it. (Edison also insists I can't be an extreme introvert all my life which is unfair because I am not an extreme introvert. I have, like, two confirmed friends.)

Suppressing a grimace, I grab my water bottle and take a long drink. It's slightly tart from the headache medicine but it's better than a dry throat. Inwardly, I sigh. That wasn't fair to think about Edison. He is right, I am a terribly introverted person, but isn't that expected for an amnesiac ex-villain with the social skills of a twelve-year-old? Of course I'd like cats over— Shut it, brain.

Ever since the Rehabilitation Program organizers switched out my cat time for human socialization, my inner snark has been running unchecked. It's tiring, grating on my nerves, and I am very glad none of it is coming out of my mouth.

Slotting an L-shaped piece into place, I glance out of the corner of my eye to my 'therapy partner.' Vanish (I can never remember her normal name) is deep into fiddling with three pieces—one of which I am sure doesn't fit with the others—strands of green hair screening her face. Usually, she's chatting up a storm, but right now the lull in the conversion is uncharacteristically long.

It's fine. We all have our bad days. Like me, right now.

My face fights to scrunch into a scowl and it takes glaring down the half-formed puzzle sphere to keep it neutral. Movement catches my eye and I glance to my left, meeting Edison's gaze. He smiles encouragingly. Apparently it isn't neutral enough.

Vanished clears her throat. "What do you plan to do when you're released?"

Jerking out of my thoughts, I scramble to make eye contact and look attentive. Released?

She sweeps back her hair with a flick of her hand. "You know, with your powers, specifically."

I frown. It's not when I am released, but if. Even if I don't remember it, I've committed some serious crimes ranging from kidnapping, millions of dollars' theft, and murder. On top of it all, I am an eleven. I could cause some serious damage without meaning to, and If I did mean to... The aftermath pictures of both Hero HQs I've blanked surfaces in a twisted mess of rubble, metal, and sand, and news headlines proclaiming the rebuilding time and costs. The ARGENT—the organization that handles all things heroes—still hasn't decided my fate other than "complete the villain rehabilitation program while we figure it out". Like everything else, it's complicated.

"I don't know." I run my fingers over the edge of a puzzle piece, scanning the slots and holes in the puzzle for its match. "My power is...only really good for destruction."

"Destruction is useful!" She waves a puzzle piece around, leaning back. "You could be a deconstructor—demolish houses and stuff—or become a super efficient recycler. Just think of it; you're able to return items to their original components, right? Instant reusability!" A shine lights in her eyes. "All you have to do is turn the components back into the product and bam, you can use it again!"

"If I don't lose control and destroy everything. It's happened before." Heat snaps at the heels of my words and I struggle to wrestle them down. I shouldn't snap at her. It's not a bad idea and my power isn't that out of control.

Vanish gives me a sharp smile. "Then you'll just have to get good at controlling it before you're released." She leans forwards, something I can't place glittering in her eyes. "It's all about perspective, y'know? You just have to look at the right angle to see the merit in your power."