By: Shiri Shisgal
It's not every day you wake up in a puddle of blood. But this is not just any day cause today is the first day of the rest of my life. “At first, I’m completely confused… and then the events of last night come flooding back. The first thought to go through my head was, How am I still alive? I try to sit up and almost immediately, a sharp pain burns through my stomach. I groan and clutch my side. My hands reach something sticky. With one hand still clutching my side, I reach the other up so that I can see it. It comes up wet with blood.
Shocked, I bolt up, and immediately regret it. Groaning and dazed from the pain I look down to my side and see a large rip in my shirt and the cloth that’s left is soaked in blood. I lift up my shirt warily, to see my stomach smeared in blood and where the rip was, is the source of all the blood, that on my bed, on my hands, and on my shirt. There, what should have been a deep wound, was what looked to be a shallow cut. And then, comes the part that is most confusing, the wound starts to close up before my eyes. But you don’t believe me, do you?” I said.
“I think it’s extraordinary that you came out of that battle without a scratch.” My questioner states. “But, as an officer, who needs to be the logical one in this situation, I think that you lost a lot of blood during that fight and that side effects from blood loss, do inclu-”
“I know what I saw! And I am not crazy!”
“I know you’re not. But as your mother, I’m worried about you.”
“I get it, I do. But I know that you believe me, so please mom, tell me what you really want to say. Cause I see it in your eyes, something is eating at you.” I say.
… “I’m sorry” She said. Tears threatening to spill in her eyes. Just then, the door opened and two armed guards came in.
“I don’t underst-. Hey, get your hands off me!”
“It’s for your own good. Just don’t fight them and you’ll be fine. Please.”
I saw in her eyes that she was telling the truth. Well, half truth. She really was sorry, but she didn’t believe that it was for the best. So, I listened to what she said, and stopped struggling.
“Okay.” I said. “Alright. I’ll go with them.”
The guards dragged me out of the room and the second they turned the corner, my mother collapsed on the floor in sobs. A man in a suit walked into the room and said.
“You did the right thing, Moira.”
“Really? Then why does it feel like I just killed him? My own son.” She said between sobs.
“We’re not gonna kill him.”
She looks up abruptly. “You’re not?”
“No, of course not. We’re going to find a way to heal him and after that, you will get him back. I promise.”
“Thank you, thank you.”
“Of course” The man answers dryly.
But he had a different plan in mind. He planned to use me, test me, figure out what it was that made me so special, and take it from me. I knew it from the moment I finished telling my story to a police officer the first time. I knew this would happen but I just didn’t want to believe it. So now I’m trapped in a cell, and I’m only sure of two things: My name is Scott Richards, and I have Superpowers. (Dramatic music)