Not a Hero

Chapter 9

A year passes. Ten years. A hundred thousand. A million years. A billion. The room around me crumbles into nothing at all. The sun explodes, civilization is wiped out. My bones melt into nothing, my skin turn to paper, then to dust, then to nothing.

And even as all the universe is dying still I'm stuck here, stuck here with nothing and no one and a million thoughts.

But even eternity has to end, and sometime between now and forever after the door opens. Time rushes backwards. The sun comes back, whole, mended. My skin rushes together, turns to paper, turns to skin. Bones solidify, the ashes of this room rise, civilization returns to existence. And it's the present again.

Except it's like the present isn't the present. It's as though the world is exactly like it's always been but with some tiny itty bitty thing being different. And that itty bitty thing made me into something else, something that did something wrong. But it's the old me, from the other universe sitting here, not knowing what I did wrong.

With the opening door I expected nothing. I expected to be questioned, expected to be accused of some crime. Expected to explain how this was all a big mistake, explain that I'm just a random school kid and I didn't do whatever they said I did. Then maybe I'd ask why they arrested me without charging me, why my miranda rights were never read to me. 

So maybe I didn't expect nothing. Nothing was right though.

Nothing was just what I got. 

Two men, four arms, pulling me up, putting on handcuffs, pulling me out of the room.

Another vehicle. Eyes covered. Darkness. Nothing. Nothing nothing nothing.

Captain America did this, but now he's gone. Captain America, the all-American boy. We should model ourselves off him, strive to be more like him. Captain America- a hero.

Maybe it wasn't really Captain America. Maybe it was just someone who looked like him. In the darkness I start to giggle uncontrollably. Maybe Captain America has a doppelganger. And maybe pigs can fly.

At this point it seems like not much would surprise me.

Time passes. And passes and passes and passes. But still the awful nothingness remains. Maybe this is their plan, drive me insane from the dark and the cold and the nothing nothing nothing. Maybe I did do something wrong. Maybe I did commit a heinous crime, maybe I murdered someone or robbed a bank or lit the White House on fire. That would be funny. Can you arrest sometime for something they don't remember doing? Am I under arrest?

From somewhere very far away someone tells me to stand. Screams at me to get to my feet. But they're so far away, and I'm so tired. I'm not even sure if they're real, if any of this is real. My doctor is always telling me to drink more water, maybe the dehydration is catching up to me. Someone grabs my body, pulls me to my feet. But I'm just so, so tired. My legs won't hold me, so I don't even try.

The hands drag me and some tiny part of me registers pain. But it's almost as if everything that's happening to me isn't happening to me. It's like I'm watching a movie with the sound down low, while music is playing and I'm doing homework and eating a microwave burrito. In the grand scheme of things the movie isn't very important, isn't really worth my time to watch. Every once in a while I tune in, but the rest of the time I worry about singing along to the song or figuring out the slew of homework in front of me or eating my arguably nasty good. Except now that's my life.

At some point my body stops being dragged. At some point my body stops moving. At some point the darkness is gone, replaced by a blinding light. But I'm so tired that I almost wish for the darkness again. The world is so blurry, so soft around the edges as if we've returned to the beginning of time when the world was kinder. And then there's voice.

"I said, do you know the charges placed against you?" The voice is loud, triangles and squares and geometric shapes stabbing the fog that surrounds me. Someone turns off the music, turns my spinny desk chair away from the homework, turns up the volume of the movie until I have no choice but to watch. Then I dive through the screen, into the fiction that's my life. 

Even in my confused state I manage to mutter "No"

I don't know the charges brought against me. I don't know what I did. I don't know where I am. I'm not even sure if I'm technically under arrest or not. Which I sort of want to ask, but my tongue is stuck to the top of my mouth. The man who spoke is tall, worn. He's aging, and not well. And he's not happy about it. The years weigh down on him, a constant reminder of something he'd rather forget. He's not angry, just tired. Something I can relate to.

"Joselyn Aviles, you have been accused of aiding and abetting a known criminal, partaking in terrorist activities, and conspiring in an attempt to overthrow the United States government"

For a second the words don't register, don't make sense. Words are being spoken but they don't make sense. Aiding and abetting a known criminal? Partaking in terrorist activities?  Conspiring to overthrow the government? It just doesn't make sense. That's not me. I don't even know any criminals, as far as I know. And it I helped one it wasn't on purpose. And unless doing homework and looking for scholarships has suddenly become a terrorist activity I'm pretty sure I haven't.

Except I'm here. Except the man in front of me looks like this has aged him, taken 10 years off his quickly diminishing life. 

"The home grown ones are always the worst." He tries to sneer at me, but his sagging features don't look angry. Only sad. The man continues, "Due to the nature of your crimes in relation to the terrorist organization Hydra your trial will be postponed until such a time as brining your crimes to light will not jeopardize the investigation of the aforementioned organization. Until such a time comes you will be imprisoned without bail. Case closed" And then the man stands up and walks away. 

It isn't until he's gone that I realize I haven't said a word since my very first "no".