A few notes before you dive into my short story:
If you haven’t seen Infinity War or End Game STOP READING NOW there are spoilers in here.
This story takes place in the Marvel universe.
It’s kinda dark so… yeah.
I prayed for the first time in a long time that night. I did a lot of things I never thought I’d do that night:
Trust a stranger to take me to safety
Run blindly through the streets of the city
Willingly go stay overnight at a stranger’s house with a host of other strangers
There were extreme circumstances that heavily impeded on any type of formality or normalcy. It was survival mode, terror, shock, grief that pushed me so far outside of my comfort zone and kept me there all these years. After that day I was never the same. Going back to work wasn’t an option. Sitting at a desk in the wake of such intense tragedy was beyond trite, it was almost comical to think anyone would be able to have any semblance of their previous life after that. I tried for a few months, but I just couldn’t continue putting a smile on my face as I spoke with people about how this app I’d worked on for the last year that made it easier to connect street artists with big brands could change their lives. The startup had always been an exciting place to work, and I did enjoy being a small part of talented artists’ success. That feeling all but disappeared that day, the day.
Support groups online and offline popped up everywhere. There were hotlines, PSAs, flyers, ads, forums, speaker series, podcasts, TV Shows, movies, plays, slogan clothing (He Snapped But You’re Still Here, Don’t Disappear, Thanos Sucks, etc.) , people were trying to figure out ways to handle what happened and also shamelessly exploit emotion and raw loss. Not only were those new support groups popping up, but there was an influx of people to common ones like AA and NA. People who never drank or took recreational drugs their entire lives found themselves desperately looking for anything to numb the pain. The brain can only take so much.
I found myself in NA after a year and a half of fighting with my sister, my friends, my coworkers, my clients, the deli cashier, the MTA attendant, the hot dog stand guy, countless bartenders and bar-goers, anyone really. I’m not sure where I even got the drugs initially. It must’ve been at one of the many parties I found myself at to numb the pain with heavy bass and hard liquor. People would freely hand out substances at these parties and I would pop a pill sniff a powder and consume a laced hard candy anytime it was handed to me. At first being high that night was all I needed to get through the next few days, but the increasing need to not feel began seeping into those dull days and I needed more. I tried alcohol. Worked for a little bit, but I was still able to think and thinking was my downfall. So I went to the doctor and it wasn’t hard to get subscribed all of the pills. And so I would gather my pill cocktail and knock back a fifth of Jame-o and my days and nights would blend into a perfect haze of illusion and confusion that divorced me from this harrowing reality. But then I noticed strange things were happening when I was stumbling around in my drugged out stupor. What I thought was in my head I realized was real. It started small. The coffee cup sitting on my counter started to levitate and spin around, coffee flying everywhere. The candy at the deli counter would quake. Then more significant things happened. The bar stools at my local hang out would stick to the roof. Doors would fly open as I approached them.
I immediately thought, it had to be the drugs I was taking.
I didn’t know it at the time. I wouldn’t know for a few months, but the pills I was popping were laced with some kind of alien substance- exactly what is still a mystery to me. What I do know if that if it weren’t for this devastating event, I wouldn’t be writing to you now in this basement hiding from the government, just trying to protect my family.
I thought I would be safe in NA. You know, because of the whole A part, but when you develop abilities A no longer stands for Anonymous, but for Aberration. I couldn’t control it when I was under the influence and broke many a window, door, wall, chandelier, ceiling fan… ceiling, vase, cabinet, sink- you get the picture, before I realized it was in everyone’s best interest to get my shit together. The real moment of altruism happened when I was visiting my sister.
Angie missed me, but my niece’s pleas are what brought me to her suburban neighborhood on that sunny afternoon. We’d exchanged pleasantries, my sister beaming at the fact that I wasn’t a complete mess and my niece smiling ear to ear like an adorable little goddess. I was semi-happy I remember. I didn’t tell them about my…ailment. I didn’t think it necessary considering I stopped taking pills and only stuck to vodka. Plus, I’d only had a mini bottle (or 3) on the ride up there so I was practically sober. Now I know how reckless that was.
Gia was 80 ft in the air clutching her stuffed animal and screaming with a fury. Her 3 year old shrieks still echo in my ears as she cried for her mother and me, pleading with us to bring her down. She couldn’t stop screaming and my sister circled beneath her trying to console her in a frantic tone that didn’t convince either of us that everything would be alright. I stood absolutely still trying to get a baring on this thing I’d never gotten a baring on before. I prayed I would figure out how to use these new abilities, even just this once. I squeezed my eyes shut and she fell.
That was about a year ago. Since then I haven’t seen much of anyone I know. Those friends I was so closed to in my past, my family, they’re more like characters I read about in a book covered in dust in an old bookshelf decaying with age and carelessness. Living on the outskirts of society was a lot easier than I thought it would be. There are other people like me out there and we’ve kind of formed our own society away from "normals.“ We’re no heroes. Just people with powers we can’t control.
I can still see my niece’s little body. Her squirming in pain. She was in shock, but she was still alive and that’s all that mattered. I haven’t seen her or my sister since then, taking off quickly I vowed to stop using and get a handle on my powers before resurfacing bother literally and metaphorically. It’s been 5 years since Thanos. I know the Avengers brought everyone back, but the damage has already been done. I have nothing. I might as well disappear.