You:
Powers: manipulation of limited bodily functions
The whiskey wasn't helping. You were on your third glass and the memories weren't budging. You could still smell the blood in the air mixing fluidly with the accelerant and the screams of your bunkmates.
"I'm cutting you off girly, you can't hold your damn liquor!" said the barman laughing.
" what the hell man, I'm only on my third, and i can too hold my liquor!" you exclaimed frustratedly, but got up and left him a dollar bill. You stumbled and the wirld tilted slightly, but you grasped a table heavily and made your way out the door and into the Canadian cold. You smiled gidily as you collapsed in the snow, suddenly crying and sobbing for the children, your siblings.
" Arabella, Tate, Tatiana, Spencer, Jade" you spilled their names into the snow like a bottle of gin on the sticky pub floor. Headlights bathed you in heatless light as the engines cut out and a door slammed, you jumped at the sudden noise in the zombie-silent highway car park. The man sighed and grabbed at your forearm as you fought him off, " hey, hey cut it out, bub. I'm only tryna stop you from becoming a trucker's worst nightmare" the man said huskily, he was built like a brick wall. Thick muscle corded around his biceps and shoulders, his sideburns had a mind of their own and his hair was untamed.
"what's your name, bub?" he demanded.
"What's yours?" you asked defiantly.
"Logan. See how easy that was bub?" with a smart-ass smirk on his face he dragged you towards the door. You fought against him and surprisingly you scrambled out of his ironclad grip, he advanced towards you again but stopped short, clawing at his head. You had your fist clenched tightly as you forced the blood to rush to his head.
Suddenly he shot forward and knicked you to the ground with him on top of you, " don't call me bub" you gasped with his hand around your throat. His fist connected heavily with your nose, breaking it and knocking you unconscious. He hoisted you onto his shoulder and as he walked to his truck he mumbled to himself.
"Off to see the professor, again ." he pondered a second before saying "What else could i call you, you refused to give me your name, dumb kid. Actually, that works" he smile$ to himself. He should be a comedian.
Word count: 406
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