Storm

Therapy

That night, I haunted the streets. Anytime I heard a scream, I would come and wreak my own personal vengeance.

I chose carefully of course. Only those who deserved it. I wasn't trying to be a hero, but those who had it coming to them were much less likely to press charges. Assaulting the innocent was also something I would never want to even think about.

There were many. Some stood out, some didn't. One guy had a gun to a blonde teenager. That one was the most enjoyable to beat up.

I put all of me into my fighting. The faces blurred together, but each movement of mine stood out with perfect clarity. Each blow, a blow against the remains of my once structured life. With each kick, I was gaining control.

It was late into the night when I finally stopped. My limitless energy had in fact run out. I was tired but happy. My body ached, but each ache was something that I had made. This was my doing and I loved it.

Of course, now I had to hide my numerous wounds from May. I had given her my word and I had broken it. None of them was serious, just a few nicks and scratches when someone had a knife that I wasn't aware of. I would like to keep this secret from May, but knowing her, she probably already knew.

Now I just had to return home. I bent my legs and pushed off into the sky.

~

I stood in front of the mirror and winced. A bruise was forming on my jaw. I hadn't felt it before, but now it was aching and sore. May would definitely notice this.

Did it even matter? I had let go and done something of my control for this time in ages. Why did it matter what she thought?

Either way, I still had to patch up my injuries. I ran cold water over my cuts and pressed a wet towel to my bruise

Soon my wounds were barely visible. Only those who looked closely would see them. A thought occurred to me, they had most definitely healed faster than the scrapes I had got before my powers. Gaining powers must be a package deal then.

I sleepily tumbled back to bed and fell asleep.

~

"What the hell, Alex?"

I immediately shot up in bed and hit my head on a phone, which for some reason was hanging right in front of my face.

Wait, not hanging, held. Held by May. Held by a very angry May.

I squinted at the screen the words slightly blurred from sleep.

It was a news article with the headline 'New Vigilante? Street Criminals Found In Rough Shape'.

Damn it.

Wait. How did May know that was me?

"I knew it was you because you weren't in your room last night."

Oops. Guess I said that out loud.

"May, it isn't that bad. It's just like the punching bags we had when we were younger.

May stared at me. "Punching bags don't punch back! Look at you! You're covered in injuries."

I subconsciously touched the bruise on my forehead. It had gone down a lot overnight and I couldn't even see the scratches.

May groaned. "Why would you do this? Are you really that stupid?"

Now, this was just getting annoying.

"Hey! I needed a way to release energy. Stressful stuff has been going on."

"Yes but you're home now. You don't have to run around outside where you can get hurt again."

"So what if I get hurt? I have superpowers, May. You told me to use my abilities to help people anyway!"

"But not like this!"

May sighed and sat down at the edge of the bed.

"Look," her voice was tense, "I know what it's like to feel this way. To gain back control over your life again. But trust me, going out and getting hurt won't help."

I felt like I'd been smacked in the face. How could May know? How could my perfect sister know?

"You don't know anything."

"Alex, you don't a monopoly on problems in this family. Carol's death affected all of us. You seem to forget that."

Carol's death. The words 'she's alive' swam in front of my lips, but another found their mark.

"But you're perfect. Our parents love you!"

Now May was glaring at me. "Do they? Do they really? One question, why do you think I'm perfect? It's because I had to be. Everyone in this family was falling apart. Our parents didn't care anymore. Not like they used to. Being perfect was supposed to get them to notice me again."

She looked away. The last sentence was mumbled, but it hit me like a gunshot. "Being perfect wasn't supposed to hurt so much."

My sister was in pain and I hadn't noticed. How could I have not noticed?

"May, I'm sorry..."

"I'm going to go get ready for school. You're expected there," she spoke in a cold voice, but I could tell now she was using that as a mask. I realised she had done that before. How could have I have not noticed?

She stalked out of the room, leaving me entrenched in my guilt.