Page 65 of The Not So Super Hero

Z ane’s Flashback

Zane’s entire childhood was spent inside a box that Antoine had created for him.

Vixen Manor sat among an evergreen forest in the middle of nowhere.

No visitors and no access to the outside world that Antoine did not approve of.

Zane was sick and needed to be taken care of, so Antoine claimed. Once a week, Law visited.

“Now this will only hurt for a moment.”

Zane winced when Law pierced his arm with the syringe. A scowl marred his face, but he refused to say a word or make a sound. If he didn’t, Law gave him candy afterwards. Law always asked if Zane felt different. Normally the answer was no, but there had been some changes.

“I’ve been having terrible headaches,” Zane admitted. “It feels like something is ringing inside my head.”

Law scribbled in his notebook. “Anything else?”

“Sometimes I wake up in cold sweats. I can’t remember the dreams, but I’m always too scared to go back to sleep after.”

“Have you been taking your medicine?”

“Yes. Nothing helps. The headaches keep coming and I’m really tired because I can’t sleep.”

“I see. Then why don’t we bump your check ups to once every three days?

” Law may have asked, but that wasn’t a question.

He was in charge when Antoine wasn’t. Digging in his pocket, he gave Zane the promised candy for good behavior.

“Here you go. Make sure to take your medicine tonight and let me know if you have another nightmare. Try to remember it, ok?”

Zane snatched the candy and joined Marceline in the kitchen. Based on the smell, she was making dinner. His stomach growled.

“What did I say about the candy?” Marceline sighed, though she wore a smile. “Dinner is almost done. You should have waited.”

Zane shrugged and hopped up onto the kitchen counter. Marceline whacked his thigh.

“Will Dad be making it to my birthday party?” he asked, glancing at the calendar pinned to the wall.

Marceline frowned.

“He’s not coming, is he?”

“I’m sorry, sweetie.” Marceline bit her lip.

Zane wore an apathetic expression. There was a time when he was sad, agitated, but eleven years of Antoine missing important events led to a general lack of care. It was easier to not care.

“He must be busy. It’s fine.” Zane shrugged, then smiled at Marceline. “More cake for us, right?”

“Right.” She brushed the hair from his face and returned his smile. “More for us.”

Marceline was the only constant human contact Zane got. He had never met his mother, but Marceline was certainly more than up to the task.

As Zane’s birthday drew closer, subtitles changes began. While playing, Zane swore he heard Marceline’s voice. He rubbed his ears, finding the static to be a figment of his imagination. But it got worse from there.

At night, Zane’s screams pierced the halls.

Marceline burst into his room to find him in agony, eyes rolled back into his head and body shaking like he was having a seizure.

After Zane awoke, he wouldn’t remember any of it.

When Marceline mentioned this to Law, he gave nothing more than the usual check up and added more medicine.

While Marceline knew that Zane was positive for having a mutation, she had no idea what it was.

If it had to do with those seizures, then all she could do was hope he got better, but that wasn’t the case.

Zane grew distant. Though he sat with her, his gaze drifted miles away.

Some days, his eyes glazed over and he’d be motionless for hours.

Other days he laid in bed shouting about The Voices.

If Marceline got closer, he screamed louder.

Eventually, he started wearing headphones around the house.

The headphones made The Voices go away, granting him a semblance of peace.

“Something is wrong,” Marceline explained when Antoine returned from a business trip.

The man didn’t care as much as he should.

He acted like the news was nothing. “He isn’t sleeping.

He barely eats. He has nightmares every night.

The medicine isn’t working! We... he needs to go to a hospital,” she said.

“He isn’t going anywhere. This could all be his mutation finally showing itself,” Antoine ordered.

“What kind of mutation drives a child into insanity? Please, go look at him. He’s miserable!”

Clicking his tongue, Antoine took a menacing step forward. Marceline retreated, her hip hitting the kitchen counter. He grasped her chin, fingers digging into her cheeks.

“Law will continue checking on Zane, and you will continue watching him. If I hear anything more about this from you, I promise you will regret it,” he warned.

Too frightened to argue, Marceline nodded.

Antoine left, donning a twisted grin. If she didn’t fear what would happen to Zane, she’d have packed her bags and left.

But she adored that boy like he was her own.

If there was something she could do, she would, but the cops were out of the question.

Antoine would know what she was up to, so Marceline did what she could.

“Please don’t make me take them,” Zane pleaded, eyes bloodshot.

“You have to. They’re giving you this medicine for a reason.” Even if Marceline didn’t know what that reason was or how it was helping.

“I don’t want them.”

“Your dad said—"

“Fuck what my dad said!” Zane hollered, stepping away from the pills in Marceline’s outstretched hand.

She recoiled, holding the medication against her chest. “That stuff is making it worse! I know I couldn’t have been sick before, but those things are making me worse.

You can’t tell me what to do either, so leave me alone! ”

Zane bolted, storming through the house. Marceline followed, even if she agreed. She also feared the repercussions of not taking them. Neither of them knew what was going on or if the medicine was causing anything. She didn’t trust Antoine or Law, but she didn’t believe she had the answers either.

“Zane, please, get back here!” She cried, following the boy into the living room.

“No, I’m not taking it.” Zane kept a distance, always moving in the opposite direction of her.

“This isn’t a game. Neither of us knows what will happen if you don’t take this.” Not to mention, she knew Antoine would probably forcibly shove it down Zane’s throat otherwise.

“I know exactly what will happen. I’ll get better!”

“You better get your butt over here right now,” Marceline scolded.

“Stop acting like my mother!”

Zane’s words cut her like a blade. Her chest twisted, lips falling into a frown.

“I’m...I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,” he said, clutching the end of his shirt.

He hadn’t meant to say that, nor did he mean to do what happened next.

A strange black mist circled his form. The room dimmed.

Lights flickered. Raising his hands, Zane found that the mist was coming from him, and creeping towards Marceline.

Zane wasn’t sure why, but that scared him.

The thought of that strange mist touching her made his blood run cold.

The darkness swirling between them so violently that pictures fell from the wall and lamps shattered on the floor.

Their eyes clenched shut to protect themselves from the harsh wind.

When the chaos settled, Marceline and Zane stared in horror at what the mist had formed between them; a vision of Zane laying pale faced and lifeless in a pool of blood.

Real Zane saw this as gray, but it was real in Marceline’s eyes.

She dropped to her knees, releasing a blood-curdling scream.

“Marceline, it’s not real! It’s not real!” He shouted. “I’m right here. I’m ok. Marceline, look at me!”

Except Marceline couldn’t see the real Zane. She focused on the lifeless body at her feet. Marceline grabbed at him, holding his stiff corpse in her arms while screaming endlessly. To her, it was real. She could feel the pain, feel the cold, couldn’t see the truth, and so sat there in agony.

Zane didn’t understand and couldn’t stop.

Mist of the illusion infiltrated Marceline’s skin.

He grabbed her, trying to pull her away, but she dropped like a deadweight to the floor.

The mist evaporated, then Marceline screamed.

Her body convulsed, eyes rolling into the back of her head.

He had never seen or heard anything like it, piercing and frightful.

Then a vision came to him, blinking in his mind, a scene of his death.

Zane could no longer tell what was real or fake, but he tried to make it to the phone.

His shaking legs barely carried him to the phone for emergencies in the kitchen.

He couldn’t focus, seeing double while searching for Antoine’s name.

He couldn’t hear the phone ringing, but he made out Antoine’s name on the screen.

That’s when Zane glimpsed himself in the hallway mirror.

Terrified, he took in the reflection of a monster; eyes nothing more than voids against ghostly pale skin.

A darkness settled in his face, shadows moving in his veins.

He dropped to his knees a whimpering mess.

Whatever his mutation was, he didn’t want it.

A week later, Zane stood outside the hospital window leading to Marceline’s room. She had been asleep all that time. He heard Antoine over the phone claiming she could have permanent brain damage, that she may not wake. Zane’s gut twisted into a knot.

“What’s wrong with me?” he asked.

“What’s wrong with you?” Antoine replied, smiling. “You’re a monster, Zane.”

And Zane believed him. Antoine had the boy in a vice grip with no hope of escape. He abused that power, the power of a father over his son, even more so when he had the audacity to tell Zane that Marceline woke up a few days later.