Hidden Wounds (A DC Next Generation Story)

Chapter I | The Angelic Demon

Esperanza's Point of View

Someone "accidentally" bumps into me, causing my backpack to fall to the floor. "Watch where you're going, chica," he says, walking off.

"I’m sorry, was I meant to be offended?" I ask as I pick up my backpack. "Because the only thing offending me is your face."

The boy turns back to me. "What the hell did you just say?"

By now we've attracted a crowd. I've been in this situation plenty of times before; by now it's just habit that I fire back.

"I said that your ass must be pretty jealous of all the shit that comes out of your mouth," I reply.

He rolls his eyes. "At least I'm not gay."

"Gay?" I ask, raising an eyebrow and crossing my arms. "I’m straighter than the pole your mom dances on."

"That's it," the jock says, walking toward me, then throwing a punch toward my face.

I catch his fist when it's less than an inch from my face. That should've been impossible- my hand couldn't go that fast. I'm surprised, but don't let it show. Instead, I stand my ground and glare at the boy.

"You wouldn't hit a girl, now would you?" I ask, smirking.

"That's a little sexist, don't you think?" He asks before throwing another punch.

★★★

"Really, Espie?" Dad asks, exasperated, from the driver's seat. "That's the third fistfight you've been in, in as many months!"

"I'm fine, Dad," I say, leaning my head against the window. "He was just a little tougher than I thought."

"'A little tougher than you thought'?" Dad restates. "You have a busted lip, bruised knuckles, and a bruised cheek. That's 'a little tougher'?"

I nod, rubbing my thumb against my lip. When I pull away, there's blood on my finger.

Dad sighs as we pull into the driveway. "What ticked you off this time?"

"I told him that I was straighter than the pole his mom dances on, then he punched me," I say as we walk toward the front door. I leave out the part about my lightning hand, though. He'd think that I'm insane.

Dad unlocks the door, and we both walk in. "So you provoked him for calling you gay."

"Yeah," I reply as I place my backpack on a chair.

"And you thought it was okay to put him in the hospital because of this," Dad says.

"Yes," I answer, losing my patience a little.

Dad sighs. "You were expelled, Espie."

"So? He said 'gay' like it was an insult; he had it coming." I reply.

"But you were expelled. I can't even think of what your Papá would say--"

I snap. "He'd probably say that I'm his freak of a daughter he wishes he bever had. You're thinking that too, aren't you?"

"Espie--"

"No!" I yell, walking toward the stairs. "I'M SORRY, OKAY?! I'M SORRY I CAN'T BE THE PERFECT DAUGHTER YOU WANT! I'M SORRY THAT I STAND MY GROUND INSTEAD OF COWERING IN FEAR! I'M SORRY THAT I'LL NEVER BE GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU OR PAPÁ! I'M PROBABLY THE REASON HE LEFT! I'M SORRY I'LL NEVER BE GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU!" I run up the stairs and slam my bedroom door, locking it.

I groan and faceplant onto my bed. Rolling over, I stare at the ceiling. I take out my phone and turn it on, smiling a little at the lock screen.

The photo is of me, Dad, and Papá at the beach. I was eleven. It was one of the last times I saw my papá, and--

Wait.

I turn off my phone, using the blank screen as a mirror. I look at my lip, and my eyes widen.

It's healed. So are my cheek and knuckles.

I stand and run to the door- or try to. As soon as I get up, I feel a strong burst of wind, and I crash into the door, breaking it.

"Espie?" Dad asks from downstairs. "You okay?"

"I don't know..." I reply, standing up.

What the hell was that?