Page 24 of The Not So Super Hero

“Y our stubbornness is going to be the death of you,” Chris hissed.

Zane shrugged from the position on his bed, lying down with every intention of sleeping.

Unfortunately, such a wonderful thing never came.

It was official; the universe hated him for it had taken away his means of escape, leaving him to attempt his way through life, which was being a colossal pain in the ass at the moment.

Zane rolled to his side and replied, “No argument there.”

“I’ve been saying this for weeks. You need to leave. Now. Pack your bags, get in your car and go,” Chris said, pressing both hands to the back of his neck.

“Go where?”

“Anywhere!”

The moment Zane revealed to Chris that he had an unpleasant visit from Leona, there had been nothing but talk of leaving. Actually, Chris started packing Zane’s bags immediately. Even went so far as to “threaten” to take out as much money from the bank as he could to give to Zane to get going.

After a few hours of arguing, Chris calmed down.

After a few days, he was calm enough to return to his own home.

However, he remained vigilant and paranoid as the weeks went by, not to say Zane wasn’t the same.

Zane understood Chris was trying to be helpful, but it seemed he forgot who they were dealing with.

“You know as well as I, that it doesn’t matter where I go. If Rebirth has their eyes on me, they’ll get me,” Zane countered.

“With that attitude, they sure as hell will.”

“What kind of attitude should I have, then?” Zane inquired. Pushing himself off the futon, Zane took a step towards Chris to speak in a sweet tone that oozed sarcasm. “Should I be hopeful that they somehow forget about me? Oh, maybe I should be brave and battle them for the good of humanity?”

Chris crossed his arms. His fingers pressed firmly into his arms.

“Or even better, I should be like Scorch and Frostbite and run into danger to save all of those who honestly couldn’t give a fuck less about the real me.

Thank God, a hero is here to save us all and we love them so much.

” Zane scoffed. “Until everyone realizes that there are no such things as heroes. They’re as normal and imperfect as everyone else.

When they make one mistake, they’re done for.

I ain’t willing to wear spandex for that type of bullshit. ”

Zane looked to his window, peering through the dark curtains. He scanned the streets for the signs of anyone, really.

“Sitting around here isn’t a good idea either,” Chris huffed. “They know you’re here, where you work, and who you spend time with.”

Zane flinched at the mention of who. His mind replayed Leona’s words. His expression soured, hands clenched into fists at his sides. The room darkened as if the light itself fled in fear. He heaved a long breath, trying to calm himself. The darkness faded when he sighed, releasing a long breath.

Since classes started back up a week ago, Zane avoided the bad luck charm known as Bailey, never stepping into the café and checking around corners.

The less trouble he had in his life, the better.

Not to mention, with Bailey’s luck, he would walk into Leona’s deadly claws.

Though, to be fair, Zane had brought a deadly trouble. The tables had turned. Imagine that.

“It’s not safe here,” Chris said.

“It’s not safe anywhere,” Zane replied, facing Chris’ solemn expression.

It didn’t matter how much Chris tried; he left that evening without budging Zane or his decision.

Once gone, Zane buried himself within the blankets, though nothing lessened his nerves.

His senses were on high alert. Every sound outside his door, every creak of the trees, or the tires on the road caught his attention.

His eyes darted about the room. He examined every corner as if he expected something, or someone, to appear.

In all honesty, it could happen. It had been years since Zane heard anything of Rebirth.

He couldn’t fathom who, or what, they had gotten their slimy hands on.

He shivered, pondering his next move, as if he had one.

Regardless, he wouldn’t let them take him alive.

Zane chuckled at his own thoughts, finding them to be both cheesy and pathetic. That was it? It was all he could come up with, or was it that he realized it was the only thing to come up with? He wasn’t escaping his fate. For a time, he honestly believed he would, and that only angered him more.

Shaking his head, Zane removed his left hand from the warm barrier he created.

Only a sliver of moonlight cascaded its way in from the opened curtains, illuminating the dust that sparkled like jewels in the air.

There was a slight tremor in his hand, the hand that he felt he would use to defend himself sometime soon.

Remembering the power that he often kept locked inside him only caused the tremors to worsen.

Zane, in a hope of stopping the shakes, flexed his fingers open and closed as if to test his own grip, which was comforting for a mere moment.

In the blink of an eye, everything changed.

Zane stared at his bloody hand. Red stained his knuckles, the skin ripped up and throbbing.

The blood wasn’t his. His gaze narrowed on the warm liquid that ran down his arm like a river that stained his skin while it inched ever closer to him.

Zane’s breathing became rapid as his mind tried to tell him it wasn’t real.

He was hallucinating, everything was fine, but the panic continued until he was nothing but a shaking mess beneath his blankets.

As if the blood had a mind of its own, it crept over his shoulder like fingers. He swore he felt a breath on the back of his neck, a low whisper from a familiar voice that caused his heart to stop.

Whimpering, Zane bolted up, bringing out his opposite hand to wipe furiously away at the evidence. He didn’t stop, even when he felt his nails dig into his own flesh. Then, in less than a second, the blood was gone, like it was never there in the first place.

Zane sat on his bed, chest heaving from the shock.

He observed his hands to find no evidence of the blood or the bruises.

All he could see were the claw marks he had made himself, the few scratches that began bleeding, though from his own doing.

The voice was gone, the breath that seemed to engulf him.

All of it was gone as fast as it arrived, but the guilt wasn’t. It remained, like a stain in his chest.

Zane flexed his fingers again. When nothing strange occurred, Zane released a borderline maddening laugh that somehow mixed into a whimper. He curled in on himself, burying his face into his knees. Zane would not get any sleep that night.

Getting to work was a pain. Zane’s head throbbed. He swayed when stepping out of his car, eyes incapable of focusing. Clutching the door, he barely kept himself upright. Sighing, he slammed the door shut and quickly made his way inside.

For once, he immediately got to work. As much as he needed sleep, he was too paranoid to risk it.

His mind begged for rest. Even his headphones couldn’t keep the noise of the outside world at bay.

Everything was too loud. Every tiny sound bombarded his senses until the simple tapping of water at the water fountain made his head feel like it was exploding.

There was static in the air. A static he recognized and constantly tried to block out.

Such feelings lingered throughout the day until Zane was a jittery mess.

He would stop every so often to lean his head against the cool glass of the windows.

Sometimes his legs felt like they were going to give out, so he would take a seat. There wasn’t a moment of silence.

He couldn’t go another night without sleep, not like this.

Perhaps he could call Chris, go sleep on his couch.

However, Chris also had work and Zane didn’t want to bother him anymore than he already was.

Though Chris wouldn’t say no. He’d drop everything, and that made Zane more adamant not to ask.

The more nervous he acted, the more anxious Chris would get and that old man didn’t need anymore of that.

With his millionth heavy sigh that day, Zane clocked out of work and headed to his car with every intention of going home alone.

However, a week of avoidance was too much.

Zane stepped into the corridor that led to the exit.

He found himself within viewing range of trouble itself, Bailey.

Zane began speed walking for the doors, but it was too late.

Bailey caught up in the blink of an eye, standing between Zane and the exit.

“Wow, no need to look so happy to see me,” Bailey said, smirking.

“I am anything but happy to see you,” Zane responded.

Bailey’s jaw dropped. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Are you still not sleeping well? Have you gone to the doctors?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Right. Do you even own a mirror?”

“No, I already know I look good.”

“Funny,” Bailey scoffed, then knocked the tip of his shoe against the floor. “Why don’t you come rest in my dorm?”

Zane didn’t have time to respond to that before Bailey’s cheeks took on a whole new shade of red.

Without his consent, he grinned as he watched Bailey’s mouth open and close in a panic.

Words came out all gibberish before he finally said, “J-Just to rest cause you look exhausted and, like, my roommate is there. We wouldn’t be alone.

Not that it matters if we’re alone cause that’s fine and I don’t really care and… ”

Zane’s lips actually hurt from how hard he was grinning. Ok, so maybe he missed Bailey a little, but only because the kid walked himself into the funniest of situations. He really was a walking catastrophe. Maybe, deep down, Zane enjoyed that.

“You shouldn’t be driving like this,” Bailey tacked on while rubbing the back of his neck.

“No. Thanks.”