Damsel[ed]: Rescue Required (#3 of the Damsel[ed] Series)

Chapter Ten: Darkest Part of Me

^^I absolutely looped 'Darkest Part' while writing this chapter, but I understand there's only so much angst the human mind can take, and this chapter consumed with that song may simply overload the angst defense mechanism. But I thought I'd include it anyway, y'know, in case you're interested. 

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Gats.

"So you're a superhero?" Shiro asks, collecting his hair in a ponytail. It races down his back like ink, so black it shimmers blue in the golden glow of the living room fixture.

I pace with my hands clasped behind my back, wishing I could calm the race of blood under my skin, to silence the roar of it behind my ears. June and Storm are talking under the petalled white fluff of a chandelier over a notebook they're sliding across the dining room table, back and forth, back and forth, like kids.

"No." I tug the brim of my ball cap lower so it casts a shadow over my eyes. There's gravel in my voice, the word forced out of a throat packed with uncoughed snot. And there's lump back there, too, growing bigger and bigger as I try to swallow it back.

"So you're not like... Catman or something? Catsby?"

I kick open the TV console door, a frosty, delicate blue glass, snatch up a VHS of Dirty Dancing, and whip around with the case held over my head like a throwing weapon. The boy is so pale he might as well be porcelain, and he's so small he looks like I could shatter him with one lucky hit. "I SWEAR TO STARLIGHT—"

"I'm sorry!" Shiro flies to his feet, his eyes big and bulging in a pale, babyface "That was insensitive of me. I don't know why I said that—I...it's just... I've never met a super before."

Dirty Dancing is still trembling in the air while I eye the kid. He doesn't mean to agitate me, and I don't hate him, but I'm all nerves. "Super?" I laugh. It's a dry, raspy sound that rattles me to my ribcage. "No. I'm no super. Shiro, I killed someone."

Shiro blinks a few times, but his chin is jutted out as if to say I don't scare him. Great. I don't scare a quivering freshman who comes up to my collarbone. "A supervillain?"

"Well, yeah, but..." But she was my best friend's mother. But she was still human, still breathing, still a precious functioning being, until I stole that breath from her. Sweat breaks on my brow. 

"Where I come from, back in Spiral City, we have vampires." He frowns, pale face darkening with a scowl. "You can kill 'em if they hurt you."

"You sound crazy," I say, the curve of my spine going straight as I try to shake away the memories. The blood. Her cry. The heat of the sword, slim and smooth in my hands. 

He lifts his eyes, snapping the zipper of his duffel bag closed. "Could you put that down?"

Dirty Dancing sails across the room, missing Shiro's ponytail by a quarter inch. The kid yelps and sinks back into the couch, his head stuffed back into the cushions. His mouth is pressed into a tight, wavering line.

"Gatsby!" June rises to her feet. She offers a tired sigh, and I hate her, hate her for how mothering her tone becomes, so sweet and soft. "I know you've—"

 "You don't know anything about me." My fists curl at my sides. "Everything that's happened to me is your fault!" 

June runs her hands over her face, pinches the bridge of her nose. Her eyes are darkened with gray circles, sunken in and haunted-looking. Her face long, her chin and cheekbones sharp and jaunty, pushing at her skin. Storm lifts his head, still scribbling in his notebook. "Go to your room," he says, lock-jawed.