I can't--I can't think about anything or anyone else," he whispered. A hand drifted up, dragging back through his hair. "I can't think straight when you're around. I can't sleep. It feels like I can't breathe--I just--""Liam, please," I begged. "You're tired. You're barely over being sick. Let's just... Can we just go back to the others?""I love you." He turned toward me, that agonized expression still on his face. "I love you every second of everyday, and I don't understand why, or how to make it stop--" He looked wild with pain; it pinned me in place, even before what he had said registered in my mind."I know it's wrong; I know it down to my damn bones. And I feel like I'm sick. I'm trying to be a good person, but I can't. I can't do this anymore.
Life isn’t fair." I said. "It’s taken me a while to get that. It’s always going to disappoint you in some way or another. You’ll make plans, and it’ll push you in another direction. You will love people, and they’ll be taken away no matter how hard you fight to keep them. You’ll try for something and won’t get it. You don’t have to find meaning in it; you don’t have to try to change things. You just have to accept the things that are out of your hands and try to take care of yourself. That’s your job.
Those rabbits stopped fighting the system, because it was easier to take the loss of freedom, to forget what it was like before the fence kept them in, than to be out there in the world struggling to find shelter and food. They had decided that the loss of some was worth the temporary comfort of many.
You are your abilities and they are you. I can't put it to you more plainly. Do you know why I hate this cure? It's a statement that what we are is inherently wrong. It's a punishment for something that isn't our fault - all because they can't control their fear about what we can do, anymore than they can control their resentment that there are people out there stronger and more powerful than they are. They want to strip you of yourself - your ability to protect and enforce your right to make decisions about your life. Your own body. Mark my words: in the end, it won't be a choice. They'll decide this for you.
Like any girl, she still felt the echoes from earlier eras of repression. She'd been raised by a mother who'd fought hard to get a wage she deserved, to have access to education when she lacked every advantage, to travel on her own terms. The idea she was being asked-that she was expected to simply play along-made the blood throb in her veins. She was already in the damn stays. Wasn't the enough?
What mattered was that these beliefs had swept through the souls of everyone else like a plague. He couldn't see the end of it. Even a hundred years in the future, he knew, the roots still had not been fully pulled up from society. Wherever, whenever he went, the color of his skin set the boundaries of what he could achieve, and there was very little--if any--recourse for finding a way around it.
But hey, what's life without a little adversity?"That had to have been the fakest attempt at optimism since my fourth grade teacher tried reasoning that we were better off without the dead kids in our class because it'd mean more turns on the playground swings for the rest of us.
Yes, well”—he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose delicately—“the burner phone we had accidentally fell out of the car, and someone accidentally backed over it. Because someone was in a rush after she accidentally alerted some skip tracers we were nearby when she accidentally used her abilities to move a light pole out of the road after she had accidentally backed into it.”“Someone better shut their mouth before I accidentally slam my fist into their teeth.” She punched his shoulder, and it was almost...playful.“Shut his mouth, fist into his teeth.”“Really? A grammar lesson?
Just shut up and start sucking each other's faces already," Vida grumbled, leaning awkwardly against the stump. She would never admit it aloud, but I knew the burns on her back her eating her alive with pain. "I'm trying to make up for the sleep I lost when you started screeching at each other like cats in heat.""Miss Vida," Liam said, "has anyone ever told you that you are positively the whipped cream on the sundae of life?"She glared at him. "Anyone ever told you your head is shaped like a pencil?""That is physically impossible," Chubs groused. "He'd be--""Actually," Liam began, "Cole once did try to-- What?""Oh, I'm sorry," Chub said, "apparently the middle of my sentence interrupted the beginning of yours. Do continue.""I'm going to guess you probably don't want to hear about the time he pushed my head through the neighbours fence...""Was there a lot of blood?" Vida asked, suddenly interested. "Did you lose an ear?"Liam held his hands up next to his ears, indicating both were firmly attached to his skull."Then, no" she said. "No one wants to hear your boring-ass story.
Also, screw you—maybe you can be all stealthy and break into their building to get the woman out, but I can getus there and back safely. I did this for months and never got a second glance from anyone, including PSFs.”“Probably because your ugly-ass face blinded them on the first look,” she muttered.
Miss Vida" Liam said "has anyone never told you that you are positively the whipped cream on the sundae of life?"She glared at him."Anyone ever told you your head is shaped like a pencil?""That is physically impossible," Chubs groused."He'd be__""Actually Liam began, "Cole once did try to__ What?""Oh,I'm sorry," Chubs said, "apparently the middle of my sentence interrupted the beginning of yours. Do continue.
I felt the familiar warm tingling at the center of my chest and had just enough time to gasp as some invisible hand yanked me forward, smacking my forehead against the dashboard with enough force to stun me dumb. Chubs slammed on the brakes, forcing my seat belt to do its job and lock against my chest. I was thrown back into my seat, an explosion of colors bursting in my vision. "Oh, hell no!" Chubs roared, slamming a hand against the steering wheel. "That's it! We don not use our abilities on one another, goddammit! Behave yourself!
I do not know what, in the end, makes a person who they are. If we`re all born one way, or if we only arrive there after as series of chioces. The bible claims that the wicked act on their own desires and impulses, because God is good, only good, and He would never compel a soul to wickedness. That I`m supposed to count on justice in the next life, even if I can`t have it in this one.
Love was selfish, wasn't it? It made honest men want things they had no right to. It cocooned one from the rest of the world, erased time itself, knocked away reason. It made you live in defiance of the inevitable. It made you want another's mind, body; it made you feel as if you deserved to own their heart, and carve out a place in it.