’Villains, They all have a story as to why they are the way they are
When It comes down to it, we don’t really get to choose what we become. We are built off of what we are told, what we are taught.
The minute...no. The second, we have that first heart beat. We are being built, we are changing. Learning new things like how to talk, walk, or something as simple as breathing.
We don’t get to choose the things we learn on the way up in life, but when we get to the top...it’s your choice if you’re going to fall...or if you’re going to fly.
This is when I started to fall...or was I flying?
This Is when my parents’ died.
It started with an earthquake. The ground shook and the earth split. I was 17. My brother was 14. Our family was taking a trip up north. The winter snow made the roads slippery, I can still hear the sound of the car’s tires trying to stop. My dad had slammed on the breaks and shifted gears, trying anything to stop us from heading towards the ledge. I can’t remember much of that night... all I can really remember... what plays in my head over and over is when the car hit the ice.
I heard screaming and knew it was my own, though the other screams of my brother and mom were mixed in with mine. The tires were sliding. On instinct I reached for my brother and wrapped my arms around him.
I could hear the car crash, the glass break, metal moving in. when the car stopped moving I looked up to see blood all around me. The car was shaped to form a perfect sphere. I looked down to see my brother, William in my arms shaking. Hours had passed and it seemed as if we would never get out of here. Just when I was starting to give up hope, I heard a voice calling out.
“Is anyone in there? Can you hear me?” The voice yelled from above us.
“In here!” I yelled. William went to look but I covered his eyes and whispered. “don’t...don’t look.” I felt the tears run down his cheeks. I had held him this long so he wouldn’t have to see. I wasn’t letting go till we were out of here.
It’s only been a week since the accident. When they pulled open the car and we were out they kept saying,“are you alright?” or “Everything is going to be okay.” All I did was nod, but I knew it was a lie. Nothing about this was going to be okay and everything was not going to be alright.
We were put into therapy and sent to our uncle Jim, my mom’s younger brother.
At the funeral people would say “sorry for your loss.“... most of the people I didn’t even know. Strangers that really didn’t care,they say “call me/us anytime.” with fake smiles and pats on the back that felt more like knives stabbing me instead. It didn’t want any of it. I didn’t want their sympathy. But what I think was the worst, was when they just sent us to therapy as if there was something wrong with us. Yes I would answer their questions, but I would only tell them what they wanted to hear. The quicker I got out of there the better I would be. Talking about the accident didn’t help anything; it just brought up the terrible feelings over and over again. They never even gave me time to grieve.
My father is... was a scientist, for a billion dollar company. They studied the way to make humans smarter, faster, stronger, the ability to live in different environments, to be more of what a human being could possibly handle. A way to evolve into the next generation. That’s what they were doing to me.
I wasn’t born from my mom like everyone else. I was created in a machine where they added different chemicals to me when I was an egg. I was the only one that survived or you could say born from the lab. At least my mom never complained about childbirth.
3 years minus one month and 2 weeks later, my brother was born, of natural causes of course. The company stopped trying to make more like me after 5 years and focused on me.
I remember needles, and doctors testing my abilities. They would cut my skin and it would heal. After a while of being experimented on my skin was impenetrable, the needles broke, drills sparked. Instead of leaving it alone, this only seemed to make them try harder.
It didn’t hurt anymore. I was numb. I had teachers that would come to my house or the lab, as I never went to public school because they said “they didn’t want to risk it.”
By the time I was 10, I spoke 6 different languages and was learning more. I passed all, and any form of math, and science.
Then at 13, they wanted to see how far they could push what my limits were. Then broke them everyday, till one day I could run and wouldn’t have to stop, until I could lift over 500 pounds, go without sleep for 2 weeks, without food for 6 weeks, and no water for 10 days. Theyeven tested to see how long I could hold my breath. I would stay underwater for hours until I blacked out. I remember being put in a box of water with an inclosed top at age of 16.
When I entered the water it was cold. I saw the top close and tried not to freak out, freaking out would make me lose air faster and we would only have to do this all over again once they brought me back. My father came running in and all that concentration on not freaking out went out the window, I banged up against the glass, wishing I could break it. This time felt different, I knew something was wrong and all I knew was that I needed to get out.
“This is too for,” my father said pointing at me, his voice muffled through the water. “She is only a teenager, when will you stop?!” He yelled. The other scientist paid him no mind as they continued. He ran up to the glass. “I’m sorry.” He whispered to me. I stopped pounding on the glass and nodded at him. My eyes started to get heavy, a pounding in my head getting louder and louder with every second.
“Get her out!” One of the scientists yelled as the others rushed to get me out, not wanting to lose their improved human.
I coughed up water and turned to look down at the floor. The scientist started to gather around me and checked my vitals.
“I’m taking her home.” Was my father’s final word before picking me up and taking me home
I looked up to see that I was still in front of me and my brother’s therapist. I had sat down an hour ago. I was hoping this session was over already. Memories that I have pushed away were coming back replaying over and over...My parents death was one of them.
At age 17 I remembered my father walking back and forth rubbing his eyes, when all of a sudden he looked up at me.
“We’re going on a trip. Pack your bags,” he said as he moved to go pack.
When everything was packed we all got in the car and took off.
This is when I should have done something.
All that training. All the experimentations.
And I couldn’t even protect two of the people I loved the most in this world.
I couldn’t save them.