Page 43 of Infamous Heart

“Get the fuck off,” I yelled.

I scooted up the bed, resting a hand on my chest. My heart continued thumping, speeding along as if it were making a last ditched effort to finish a marathon. The room spun, the effects of the booze determined to stick with me until the end. Every time I blinked, the light coming in the window vanished and my pulse quickened. I panicked, searching my nightstand until I found my phone. Pressing the screen, the flashlight filled the room.

“It’s just a nightmare.”

Rebecca attempting to kill me might have been a bad dream, but every word she hissed in my direction, those had been real. It would have been better had she crept in my window and finished the job she started. Instead of a supervillain attempting to kill me, my own brain thrusted my worst fears forward.

From the moment I met Sebastian, I had stumbled over my words, making a fool of myself. He was a fantasy, somebody I could eye from across the room and wonder, “What if?” I hadn’t expected to get a second chance to talk to him. But more than that, I hadn’t expected him to be interested.

He had made it clear where I fell. He had bailed on dinner, leaving me to make a fool of myself. Worse than that, he didn’t even think it deserved an apology. Once again, I had tried to rise above my station, only to be knocked down.

Sebastian didn’t come without baggage, but part of me hoped between the two of us, we’d have a matching set. I had been avoiding the conversation with myself, trying to ignore the cold look in his eyes when Wraith threatened Vincent. The hero who rescued me wouldn’t let even the biggest jerk be slaughtered by the witch of darkness. If I hadn’t put myself in danger, I don’t know if Sebastian would have saved the day. For me, he’d challenge her, but it wasn’t enough to savejustme.

I pulled the sheet free, hurling it across the room. There was no point in going back to sleep, not when my brain fixated on Rebecca’s condescending smirk. The next time I came across the woman, I’d give her a piece of my mind. She had struck a nerve, and I wanted to strike her back just the same.

I might be able to live with Sebastian not being the perfect hero. There were plenty of anti-heroes in comic books who came around to do the right thing when it mattered. But him being close to a villain? Not just co-workers, but friends? I couldn’t excuse that. This battle couldn’t be won.

It was time to face the truth, to stop pretending. If I laid it on the table and forced him to choose, I wouldn’t win. It wasn’t the first ultimatum I’d have lost in recent memory. Every time I gathered the courage to speak up, to defend myself, the world reminded me I wasn’t enough. I wasn’t good enough to keep my job, and I certainly wasn’t good enough to keep Sebastian.

I let out a sob, burying my face in my hands. The waterworks had started again. Confessing that I was a failure stung. It wasn’t fair. I tried to do my best, but it never seemed to make a difference. Once again, I was falling short. I let the crying continue for the next few minutes, purging the self-pity from my system.

I leaned my head back, banging it against the headboard, hoping the quick bursts of pain could pull my mind from the dark place. When that didn’t work, I grabbed a pillow, sinking my face into the soft material. It might have worked, soaking up the mess that was my face, but somewhere between the threads, Sebastian’s cologne spurred on the crying fit.

Minutes passed before the tears dried. I hadn’t even started my day and already I had reached the end of my emotional rope. “Get it together.”

I scoured the floor of my bedroom until I found a pair of shorts, careful to avoid the shattered glass. Wiping my running nose, I decided it was time to get away from the bed, away from the memory of him wrapped around my body and the nightmares delivered by the vile woman.

There were no more tears to shed. I did the only logical thing, shift my sorrow to anger. This wasn’t my fault. I had done nothing wrong. Sebastian had allied himself with Wraith. It washisfault for giving me hope. If it wasn’t for him showing up at my door and stepping inside my apartment, I wouldn’t be swimming through an emotional wasteland.

“Asshole.” I wasn’t proud of the mental gymnastics needed to arrive at this conclusion, but it beat drowning. I could manage my anger; I could let it burn through my fingertips and be fine on the other side. Anything was better than feeling sad for myself.

Flipping on the light in the living room, I inspected the bathroom, cautious of any place the light overhead left a shadow. Once I had finished my rounds, I found myself staring at the painting, a dreadful reminder of my infatuation with Sebastian and a potential he’d never realize.

I had wasted hours indulging in my love of superheroes and a fantasy that would never happen. I scooped a bottle of white paint off the floor. The cap made a popping sound as I flipped it open. I hesitated, admiring my handiwork.

“You don’t deserve me.”

I splattered paint across the canvas. Ropes of white covered the painting, obscuring the superhero I had conjured. When the tube ran on empty, I dragged my hand across the surface, spreading until I buried the man beneath. With a second swipe, it was impossible to tell what the painting had been.

The sun broke over the horizon, casting an eerie light through the window and across the painting. As the anger pooled in my stomach, I contemplated throwing the canvas from the balcony. Sebastian didn’t deserve to have his likeness preserved in acrylic. The reality of superheroes set in. They weren’t these noble beings, defenders of good. Could Damien have been right?

The moment the publisher’s name crossed my mind, I thought about the future,myfuture, with the company. If I didn’t produce an article for the man, I’d have to fall back on some menial job and my degree would be for nothing. I needed it for myself, but having Sebastian see my success at Revelations, that didn’t hurt my motivation.

The idea struck like lightning.

I traced my finger through the paint until I had drawn the outline of a man. As I stared at the man buried beneath the white, the article started to surface. I’d land the job. I’d prove I was a great designer and if I needed to reveal the truth behind a hero, I knew who to choose.

The phone vibrated.

The HeroApp™ alerted the neighborhood to another villain's appearance. It just so happened it was the one villain I wanted to speak with. Wraith had taken to terrorizing a subway station only two stops away. I couldn’t figure out her game and why she picked these targets. But lucky for me, I needed a story, and she was going to be at the heart of it.

It was time to confront a supervillain.

18

Only the earliestcommuters were out at this hour. The go-getters were on their way to work while the late-night employees sped toward their homes. If there had been any people in the subway station, Wraith managed to keep them silent.

I stood at the steps leading under the street, debating on if this was the smartest decision. Living in Vanguard City meant living with the reality of beings with unimaginable power, upsetting the natural order of things. Xander had shared a thousand stories about being the first medic on the scene of a superhero battle and the destruction they left in their wake.

---