March Writing Challenge: 100 Stories, 1 Month

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

97. Apologies

For once, the plane wasn’t delayed. The flight from Paris back to Burlington had gone smoothly, and Lucy Serrano was thankful for that. Too long had she been away from her love. Her fiancé.

She slung her carry on bag over her shoulder, scanning the crowds in search for her British counterpart. When Lucy’s dark eyes spotted the Brit, she took in an involuntary breath, smiling.

Her counterpart caught sight of Lucy almost instantly, and the Australian couldn’t help but to notice her smile. When they met, Lucy pressed her hands to either side of Penny’s face, puling her in. She felt the way her fiancé’s fingers curled around her jacket, tugging at the material as she kissed the Brit.

There was nothing more Lucy wanted than to go home with this woman.

“I’ve missed you.” Lucy breathed against the psychometrist’s lips. Again, she kissed her counterpart. Her hand trailed back, fingers getting lost in the dark locks of Penny’s hair. When she finally did pull away, she grinned at her fiancé. “Like woah.”

But something was off. Penny was smiling, but something in her expression wasn’t right. “Lucy,” Penny started, lips pursing into a hard line as she paused. “I’m—“ she faltered, causing the ink manipulator’s eyebrows to furrow together.

“Shit.” Concern flooded the Australian’s features as she pulled away slightly, enough for them to properly speak. “What is it?”

“This…wasn’t my idea.” Her eyes spoke expressed what her voice didn’t. Sincere. Apologetic. It was enough to cause a pulse of panic to run through the Australian. Lucy opened her mouth, but before she had a chance to respond – or really, question – she felt a hand fall down on her shoulder and a familiar accent call out.

“Lucky!”

Her eyes widened as she looked up to see Luka Serrano grinning at her.

[Nora Marie "Nory" Gwinn]

82. Tears

Laughter

Maggie could barely keep telling the story. “...and there she is, stroking the popcorn, and I'm just sitting there, waiting for her to decide exactly which handful seems like the best one...”

Nory's face was bright red, and she had reached the point where her laughter didn't sound like human vocalization anymore. “Eeeh eeeeh eeeeh...no...stop, please!” she begged with tears in her eyes. She was doubled up on the sofa with a pillow between her legs and trying to keep from wetting her pants.

“No, I'm serious!” Maggie howled. “And then Tom looks over, and he grabs a fork...”

Maggie never got to finish her story, because Nory made a break for the bathroom. Maggie just heard the continuing bubbles of laughter as the girl sprint-waddled down the hall.


Joy

“How long has it been?”

“Twenty minutes.”

“Seriously? Has she used that entire box of Kleenex?”

“Half of it.”

“Oh. Wow. So...I guess you told her?”

“Yup.”

“...Hm.”

“What?”

“Well, now would probably be a bad time to ask her to be the maid of honor.”

“Not unless you have another box of tissues.”


Frustration

Five year-old Nora Marie threw the last two cards onto the ground. “It's not fair!” she choked. She sat in the middle of a haphazard pile of playing cards, staples and tape. “I want to make a card house too! How come Adam can do it and I can't?” She seized a fistful of cards and tried to throw them across the room, but all she got for her trouble was impotent fluttering. “And he doesn't even use tape!” she wailed as her mother scooped her onto her shoulder and carried her off to her afternoon nap.


Want

Mr. Spina frowned deeply at the student sitting in front of his desk. “I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do. I gave you the score you earned.”

Nory tugged on the ends of her hair. “But I studied for hours!” she pleaded. “And everyone else got a chance to turn in test corrections--”

“You had a chance to turn them in as well,” her teacher interjected. He did not sound impressed.

“I was with my dad! I was going to have Molly turn it in but she forgot!”

“Which you neglected to email and tell me.” Mr. Spina turned back to the papers on his desk. “No email, no excuse.”

“But I already—I had them all done, I just—I studied so hard—I--”

Mr. Spina looked up. Nora Marie's lips were quivering, and as he watched, a few tears beaded on her eyelashes and slid down her cheeks. His stomach sank. She inhaled in several short gasps. “I j-just wanted to turn in m-muh-my corrections...”

Mr. Spina rubbed his forehead with one hand. “Please, Miss Gwinn...”

“I'm sorry, I just--I worked so h-hard...” A small, heart-wrenching sob.

“All right, fine, fine!” He held out a hand without looking at her. “Do not let this happen again. You were irresponsible, and I expect all assignments to be handed in on time.”

“Oh, thank you so much Mr. Spina!” Nory gasped. “Thank you, I promise I won't!” And with that, she placed her corrected test on the desk and scampered out the door.


Drama

“...do me this honor, you must promise me that you will survive, that you won't give up--”

“Snff...snff...uh-huunnn...”

“--no matter what happens, no matter how hopeless. Promise me now Rose and never let go of that promise...”

“Ugh-huh...uh-huuh...w-whait...?”

“I promise.”

“Hchugh! Sff, no, this can't be...you guys said this was a happy--!”

“Shuush, Nory!”

“...Never let go...”

“YOU GUYYSSSSSSSAUUGH HUH HUH HUH HUUUUHHHH...”


Fear

The sound of vomit hitting the bottom of a wastebasket broke the silence of the wee hours of the night. Nory leaned over the edge of her bed, breathing in gasps and trying to calm down enough to make the beeping of her Geiger counter stop. The door to her room creaked open, and her roommate Lany peeked inside. “Nora? Are you okay?” she asked quietly.

Nory shook her head, and Lany slipped inside the room. “Do you want me to go get the nurse?”

“No! This isn't supposed to happen anymore,” Nory coughed. Lany sat down on the bed next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Nory wiped her mouth off on the collar of her nightgown and leaned into the older girl.

“It'll be all right,” Lany murmured. “You'll feel better in the morning.”

“I know,” Nory whispered. Lany could feel her shoulders shaking. “I'm just scared...mom was so sick.” She pinched her eyes shut, but a few tears leaked out anyway. “What if I never get better?”


Praise

It was their second week working in the heavy training room, and Nory was struggling. This didn't surprise Mr. Batista, he expected that most of his students' progress would take a hit if they had to transition to wearing a lead-lined suit during training. “All right, now remember,” Mike spoke soothingly into the microphone that connected the protected viewing chamber and the training room where the radioactive samples were kept. Nory stood on other side of the glass in a large shiny silver biohazard suit, wheezing faintly into the speaker in her helmet. Mike continued. “This isn't a test, so take it easy. We're going to try the same thing we did yesterday. Take the sample, and I want you to decrease the radiation by twenty-five percent. Give it a shot, okay?”

His eye turned to the instrument panel on his left. The room was stuffed full with Geiger counters, and he paid particular attention to the one underneath the radioactive sample in the center of the room and the one inside Nory's lead-lined suit. The girl's voice buzzed through the speaker. “Okay. I just relax, breathe...”

The numbers on the Geiger counter flickered, then began to drop. He glanced outside and saw Nory with her hands hovering a foot above the sample. The digits on the counter slowed, and the girl's shoulders tightened. “Stay loose, you can do this,” Mike urged through the speaker. He saw the numbers quiver to a stop at 341. And then, without a blip on Nory's personal sensor, they plunged to 320.

“You did it!” Mike grinned through the speaker. “What an improvement! I don't think I've ever seen you do that before, and nothing at all on your counter. You've made an old trainer very proud.”

All that he heard back on the microphone was crackled static, possibly with a “Yes!” buried inside it somewhere. But considering that she was hopping around in the middle of the heavy training room, he thought he got the picture.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

#79 – Diamond

Sunday suppers were a weekly custom in the Neville family. Now that both Sean and Kathleen had graduated from college, they were expected to come home for supper at the end of the weekend. Dutifully, both children went each week, unless they had superseding plans.

Both Neville parents made clear to their children that they should not have superseding plans. It was fine for either Sean or Kathleen to bring a paramour, as long as Sean’s were female, but they were expected to arrive. Even if they had to leave early, it was important for them to stop in for a little while.

Sean loved his parents and his sister, so he didn’t object to the expectation. He preferred the consistency to random, ever-changing expectations. This allowed him to plan the rest of his week around the family obligations, and he prioritized his friends on Saturday and on Friday night. Otherwise, he coped during the political and religious discussions, helped his mother to cook at times, and continued to simultaneously balance the mantles of “eldest child and only son” with “black sheep.”

The telepath hadn’t brought anyone to Sunday supper in a while. The last person he’d brought had been Felicity, and he had regretted subjecting her to that. Her family was somewhat less engaged with politics than Josh’s was, but they held similar opinions, which brought them considerably to the left of the rest of the Nevilles. She had ranted about his sister’s boyfriend the entire drive back to Manhattan.

The last person who had actually wanted to attend had been Orion, but that hadn’t been allowed. It was unfortunate, since the gentle accountant was family-oriented and his family leaned more conservative. However, that ship had sailed.

As such, Sean had run some errands on Sunday morning, and then Sunday afternoon, he had packed up for the drive out to Long Island. With some luck, the telepath had managed to avoid the worst of the traffic, and he arrived before his sister and her boyfriend.

As always, Sean greeted his mother and father, before handing over the dessert that he had brought. It was nothing overly complicated, but the cake had looked delicious in the bakery window. The telepath’s sweet tooth was notorious, and it guaranteed his status as a satisfied – and highly valued – customer of the neighborhood bakery.

From courtesy for him, his parents didn’t instigate a political discussion in the living room. Instead, they discussed the Yankees’ prospects for the pennant. His mother asked about his friends. His father asked vaguely about the practice, without going into details. The elder Doctor Neville respected his son’s work ethic and understood the nature of his practice, but he had never been completely comfortable with non-physical medicine. Even if he acknowledged the necessity of treating the mind for various illnesses and abnormalities.

Sean, in turn, asked about his father’s work at the hospital. He asked his mother how she was feeling, and she opened up about recent volunteering at the parish. The telepath set the table in anticipation of his sister’s arrival, where she would have her boyfriend in tow. That was expected; at this stage, Colin was almost as much a fixture at Sunday suppers as the rest of the Nevilles were.

Then he mixed the salad, while his mother checked on the roast beef, and while his father read the newspaper. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Both children had keys to their parents’ house, as it was their childhood home. Thus, Kathleen and Colin managed to appear in the kitchen without announcement. Still wearing their coats, both were all smiles.

“Colin proposed!” Kathleen declared, and she held out her hand to show off the ring.

While Sean didn’t lean in to inspect it – both of his parents went over and did so instead – he could guess that Colin had followed the proper and utterly meaningless proscription of two months’ salary. Of course he had; Colin cared about propriety in custom and appearances as much as Kathleen did, if not more.

“I’m so happy for you!” Their mother declared, and she hugged her daughter and then Colin in turn.

“Welcome to the family,” their father said. Setting down his newspaper, he disappeared into the den to pour celebratory drinks.

“Congratulations,” Sean said, to Kathleen more than to Colin. He knew that this was what his sister wanted, and in the end, that was all that mattered. The telepath could hold his tongue through this supper, just as he did with the rest of them. Better to let Kathleen bask in this moment without interruption.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

#31 – Flower

AIDS.

Once it had been known as GRIP. Now, it had a more neutral name, although the connotations were the same. The Gay Plague. The mysterious illness that served only to decimate the gay population, and then some of the poor, the drug addicts, the sex workers, and the Haitian immigrant population for good measure. If hemophiliacs and some others with certain congenital illnesses were swept up in the frenzy, many of the most prejudiced people (and many more who were afraid and apathetic more than outright bigoted) believed that those lives were a small price when condemning the (mis)behavior of others and pointing to the Plague as evidence of their sins.

Those with AIDS were shunned even as they approached their inevitable deaths. Bad enough that the illness was a virtual death sentence, but so many of the ill were treated as pariahs. Robbed of the smallest scraps of dignity as those around them refused to pay them the least bit of decency.

As a doctor, even though Sean was a psychiatrist as opposed to someone involved with physical medicine, Sean was professionally appalled. As someone who strove for a moral and peaceful life, he was offended. As a man in a relationship with another man, the telepath felt kinship with every AIDS patient that came through the hospital or through his office doors.

Years ago, Sean had been seen as peculiar, even mocked by those who knew about his insistence on condoms. He hadn’t foreseen AIDS, couldn’t have foreseen AIDS. Instead, his use of condoms without fail came from the time that he had dated women. Then, the telepath had worried about pregnancy, more than any sort of venereal disease.

By the time that he and Josh began dating, condoms were habit. Sean used them because he was used to them. Even though he had no venereal disease, as far as he knew, because he had taken care with girlfriends. Even though Josh had been a virgin and they only slept with each other.

Now, more men used condoms as a precaution. Condoms brought peace of mind. Sean and Josh continued to use condoms, even though they still slept only with each other. They were monogamous, and Josh had only ever slept with Sean. Still, condoms brought peace of mind.

On an instinctive level, Sean worried about Josh, although his boyfriend had so little chance of getting AIDS. They were monogamous. Josh had quit marijuana at law school, and, aside from the cigarettes and the occasional beer, he partook of no drugs. Certainly no drugs that required needles. He had access to medical care. Still, bad dreams woke the telepath in the middle of the night.

Sean worried about Greg. His blond friend was not a wanton, and he was smart, careful. But the architect had had more partners than Sean had, and Heaven only knew their status. At least Greg heeded his advice about precautions these days. The telepath didn’t want the closest people in the world to him to face such a long and grisly death. He wanted nobody to face that.

Still, too many patients came to the hospital, underweight, bodies and faces covered with blotches. Slowly dying. Of those people, far too many died alone. Either because they had been abandoned by their families and friends when the illness begun, or because their lovers were forbidden to sit with them due to prejudice barely disguised as panic over contagions.

So many of those patients found themselves on the telepath’s roster.

People facing the end of life, particularly premature death due to fatal illness, needed help with coping. With their own morality, with their present limitations, with anxiety and depression.

Sean visited all of them. Even though it caused him to work well beyond his assigned hours, Sean found the time for each and every patient. Josh often needed to study alone, so that he could keep his head afloat in class.

And the patients needed him.

The patients needed someone who wasn’t afraid. Someone who would sit right next to them, offer them the human contact so many fearful people denied them. Always professional, of course, but a gentle pat on the arm or the hand did wonders for the patients – reminding them that they were human and had intrinsic value for that alone.

Sean did what he could, though he knew it wasn’t enough. He was only one young, relatively inexperienced man, surrounded by medical personnel who feared contamination themselves.

Amidst that, any small gesture went a long way.

This was why the telepath had taken to buying flowers at the gift shop, and at the fruit market nearby the hospital. A flower for every patient on his rounds brought color to the room and color to the patients’ cheeks.

Sean wanted them to know that they weren’t alone. Not as long as they were on his roster.

[Rain Tseung]

74. Poppy
Standing inside her old bedroom in her parent’s home Rain looked out the window curtains to their backyard. Her brother stood beside her, curling her hair for her big day. “It’s strange isn’t it?” Rain asked, turning her head to look at him, “That I’m here, in a wedding dress…” She smiled a little. There had been so many ups and downs in her relationship with the Bishop twins. Now? They were getting married; Rain knew there would be more ups and downs, at least now she will have the security of them never leaving her again. Like they had down before, it was only one time, but it was something that Rain still feared. River chuckled, “You look beautiful,” He looked out the window too, “They are very, very lucky to have a bride as wonderful as you.” Rain couldn’t help but grin. “Do you think they are right for me?” River nodded, “of course they are, they love you, and you love them.” Rain nodded, knowing he was right.

There was no doubt in her heart that she was meant to be with the twins, even if that meant she could only legally marry one of them… (Sorry Jake…) The Tseung mother walked into her room, “Are you ready?” Rain smiled and nodded, “Yes I am.” She walked over to the door, taking her mother’s hand, she took a deep breath. She was so very grateful for everything her adopted parents did for her over her life time. And she couldn’t wait to do the same for her children. Which would happen in a few years, maybe more than a few… Walking down to the backyard with her mom, letting River go before her, so he could be where he needs to be.

After everyone else walked down the path, it was Rain’s turn, as the bride. She smiled as she took her father’s arm, and walked down with him, grinning from how happy she was, and how happy the plants made her. As she walked down the aisle, flowers sprouted from the ground and grew into beautiful blooms that made everyone gasp in happiness. Rain got to the alter and looked at her husbands with a warm smile. They said their ‘I dos’, their vows, and kissed. Afterwards, all three of them walked back down the aisle together. After the wedding they had the reception, River said some very nice, and heart jerking words that made her cry. Then after that they headed outside to leave everyone, the guests threw poppy seeds at them, it was different from birdseeds yes, but it was something that Rain wanted. Since poppy seeds came from flowers, she wanted to have the significance throughout her wedding, since plants were also very close to the girl. Poppy seeds of course became something that had to be implicated in the wedding.

[Marley Rose]

81. Balloons

Marley Rose never handled her anger well. Even before she manifested, Marley was known to destroy things or hurt people in her fits of rage. When she punched one of her foster siblings –Billy - in the face, she was transferred to another home. There, she smashed a vase against the wall. The million pieces that fell to the ground was as relieving as rain after a drought. The physical release calmed her. She was never taught differently.
But when she was adopted, the tolerance for her anger changed overnight. No longer could she smash, or punch, or kick. Every time she got angry, she was told to deal with it without hurting anyone, or anything. This only made Marley angrier. The rage built up, and sat in a lump in her stomach, waiting to be released so she could finally eat again.
Her brother had suggested balloons. She was skeptical at first, when he handed her the large plastic bag filled with multicolored rubber sacks. But she had found, in time, that blowing up and popping the balloons could be just as fulfilling as smashing a vase, or punching stupid Billy Douglass.
There weren’t any balloons left today though, and Marley felt like she was going to explode. (Which normally would not be a really concern, but as an ergokinetic, Marley wasn't entirely sure what happened if she absorbed too much energy from the environments around her. She had already exploded light bulbs and melted metal fixtures - all without her anger driving her. )
One of Marley’s teachers had given her detention – again – for speaking out of turn in class. She knew it was against the rules, but what really made her mad that the other kids whispering behind her – making fun of her static hair – went unnoticed. And when Marley tried to explain that she was only trying to stand up for herself, she got in more trouble. So she grabbed her bag and left the room, again, causing even more repercussions. But she didn't care. She needed to get out before she cut off electricity to the entire school.
She walked briskly through the halls, head down, hair standing on end. Every light she passed flickered wildly. A breeze seemed to follow her - likely a reaction from the rapid changed in temperature. But she didn't even pay mind to any of that.
She stormed into her dorm room, tossing her backpack to the side and letting it slide across the floor. Its contents spilled out in a ton of directions, but Marley ignored it, and made a B-line for her bed. Unfortunately, when she reached into the box under it, she only found a single red balloon, and it had a small slash in the top.
Her anger skyrocketing, Marley could feel energy build up within her, then suddenly release in an outward pulse. The result: yet another series of exploded light bulbs, and a crack in her bedroom window. Her roommates must hate her. Just like everyone else who made fun of her hair, and the way that she shocked people. She hated the nickname ‘static cling’. She hated this school. She hated her ability. She hated that she didn't have any more balloons.
She flopped onto her bed, and cried for the first time in as long as she could remember.

[Cameron Osiris]

67. Butterfly

In a perfect world, Cam was with the ones he loved most of all. Life wasn’t sunshine, lollipops, rainbows, and butterflies, but if he hadn’t been such a stupid young man, and had made the right choices, things could look very differently.

He would’ve told Chester how he felt from the get go. They would be together, maybe even living together. He would have stuck around for Tak and insisted that they keep the little girl so that his dad could meet her and revel in the joy a little life could bring to the world. Chester would’ve helped pay for anything that little girl wanted, and Cam could still go to school on top of everything else. Chester wouldn’t mind that Cam also loved Tak, and the redhead wouldn’t be so possessive over the light manipulator.

In a perfect world, no drama would have happened. Everyone that Cam had ever had feelings for or had ever slept with would realize that he wasn’t a bad guy, he just wanted love wherever he went from whoever was willing to give him attention. People like Dec and Mia would not only forgive him, but be happy for him.

In a perfect world, Cam would have no enemies. No one would hate him because of all the people he would hurt, and Odion and Oriel would apologize to him. Speaking of those two, it was Cam’s opinion that they should just hook up some time, have some angry sex, and leave all the happy people alone.

But Cam was alone. He was trying to make up for his wrongs, and make some new friends along the way, like Rain and George. All he wanted to do was have fun in life, and maybe even do some good for this world. He wanted to be in love, go to school, and be a famous YouTuber – was that too much to ask?

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

71. Mistletoe.

“I can’t believe you did that.” Lucy started the inevitable conversation. The one Penny knew was going to come up eventually. It wasn’t lost on her how the Australian’s tone wavered between amusement and what she believed was concern. Potentially something a little harsher.

So she breathed a simple warning; “Lucy.”

But the ink manipulator simply shrugged her shoulders as she walked towards her dorm room door, dragging the unlocked thing open and indicating with a tilt of her head that she should walk in first.

“I’m just sayin-”

“You really don’t need to say anything.” She snapped. Well, it wasn’t a direct snap, more like another careful warning. One that Lucy seemed to actively take on board. She closed the door behind them, rolling her shoulders as she dragged her arms out of her sleeves. Rather than throwing her jacket on the floor, she handed it to the psychometrist, who promptly moved to hang it back up where it belonged. Some things, it seemed, did change. While others didn’t.

Holding her tongue was never easy for the Australian. As she drew the yellow beanie away from her head, she ran her fingers through her hair and glanced away, meandering around the room for a bit before finally looking back at her British counterpart.

“Can I just-”

“No.”

This time, Lucy frowned. Really, she should have at least been able to make reference to what she wanted to. She couldn’t even get out a single sentence before Penny shot her down.

Breaching the distance between them, Lucy purposely moved to rest her hands on Penny’s shoulders. She glanced towards her, her expression unreadable, even by the psychometrtist. And she was sure she was aware of every quirk Lucy’s expressions started with.

“I did not expect you to get caught under that thing with Sawyer.” Lucy finally started, and the words rewarded her with a careful glare from her counterpart. The more she studied the tatted up meta, the more Penny realised that she was – in fact – trying to stifle a grin. Or a smirk. Or an undeniable laugh; “And I sure as fuck did not expect you to actually go through with it.”

[Ferris Macklin]

40. Tulips

Something Ferris missed about Europe, how people kept a bigger variety of flowers. The whole concept of a flower garden had been replaced in the Stateside mind with landscaping and plants that hung or were made of silk. He understood, people were busy, a lot of plants were poisonous to pets, and flowers were a lot of work. But he missed seeing those pops of color in the green and brown, the unexpected surprises that forgotten, long-ago plantings created in the spring. And he was hypocritical, too. Having dogs (active, frisky dogs) meant that the plants around the house were limited, and Ferris's thumb was more covered in flour than green. Vermont wasn't exactly the best place to try to grow flowers, either, with its stupidly long and cold winters and brief summers.

After a long workday - having been called in to fill for a pair of minions who'd gotten flight delayed coming back from a vacation - he'd come home, smiling tiredly as the dogs crowded around him in greeting. Scratching heads and petting sides as he hung up his spring coat, he called out to his husband that he was home. "Sess! 'M home!"

The lack of answer made him look up after giving Mephit a belly rub, and there stood his tall, handsome partner, grinning at him. There was no way not to smile back at that face, and Ferris did, even as a brown eyebrow rose. "...They've come out with a laverbread beer."

"No."

"DnD released a new expansion with an unusually good looking Welsh bartender figure."

"No."

"You're trying to butter me up because you took home the entire box of 'free to good home' Australian Kelpies on the side of the road."

Cecil laughed. "No, no, no. C'mon over here. I have a surprise for you."

Ferris looked at their dogs. None of them looked overly excited or guilty. "You guys think it's safe?"

Mephit barked, and Sharkface left a reassuring smear of noseprint from the chef's left eyesocket to his chin.

"Right."

Getting up from his crouch, he followed his still grinning husband into the kitchen.

Stopped.

His shocked expression turned to one of delight, and he promptly gave his husband a thank you kiss that could be timed in minutes.

The window over their sink had been removed, and replaced with a gorgeous large pop-out greenhouse window. For the dogs, there was a screen door over the back so they couldn't get at the contents. And oh, the contents. An African violet was velvety purple, a small hibiscus was a beautiful dark orange, and a trio of potted tulips swayed red, yellow, and pink. Ferris felt energized by their vitality and beauty and so grateful he had such a wonderful husband.

Who maybe still had picked up that box of Kelpies, but Ferris totally didn't care anymore.

"I reckon you like it?" Cecil said.

"Let me show you how much I like it."

The Welshman brightened.

"Yup. Let's go upstairs and campaign, you bad boy."

[FIN]

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

33. Temptation

Dani pulled the headset from her ears, cracking her knuckles as she stretched her arms up and away from her keyboard. She glanced over at a nearby clock, eyes widening as she realized the time. Three hours passed far more quickly than the electrokinetic had expected, and now she was going to be late.

The Asian pushed herself from her desk, tripping over the cable of her headset as she headed towards her dresser. She was supposed to meet up with Lany in twenty minutes, and Dani had yet to do anything to get ready.

Immediately, she grabbed a towel and started to head to the dormitory bathroom. If she showered quickly enough, she'd be able to meet up with Lany just in time. As she crossed the common room, she heard a slamming noise in the direction of Lucy's dorm.

Dani paused in her steps as she looked at the door with wide, curious eyes. Moments later it swung open, Lucy backing out of it as her counterpart lead her along. Dani felt her cheeks flush as she caught sight of Penny aggressively pulling at the ink manipulator's belt.

The eletrokinetic felt trapped, unable to look away as Lucy and her new counterpart kissed, completely oblivious to Dani's presence in the room. It wasn't until the pair reached the bathroom door did the Asian go noticed. Lucy had opened her eyes as she struggled with the handle, and upon which, she caught sight of her wide eyed roommate.

Lucy raised her eyebrows, something of a smirk pulling at her lips as she glanced down at the towel in Dani's hands before back up to catch her eyes.

“Fuck off, Dani.”

Just as Penny went to turn, surprised to know that there was someone other than herself and the Australian in the room, Lucy managed to twist the door handle open and pulled the two inside the bathroom, shutting the door behind them quickly.

Dani stood there for a moment, completely dumbfounded as she stared at the door. Briefly, the thought of asking them to give her the bathroom flickered through the electrokinetics mind, along with the possibility of calling a dorm monitor. She took a step forward before taking in a breath and shaking her head. She turned on her heel and headed back into her dorm to get changed.

She could shower later.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

#92 – Let Loose

Several of the boys in the church choir had stopped attending practice. Their voices had begun to change, and they cracked and squeaked when trying to reach the high notes. Some were too embarrassed by their inability to control themselves. Some missed their more angelic singing voices from before puberty had trapped them in its clutches.

Sean Neville had stopped attending practice.

Sean’s voice had not changed. He retained the light timber and clarity of his child’s voice; he was only twelve, and recently turned at that. Puberty was at least a year away, perhaps more, even if he continued to shoot up like a weed and his feet continued to outpace his shoes.

Sean Neville had stopped attending practice, because he could barely find the physical fortitude and emotional strength to leave his house. Group activities were painful, and the Church no longer brought comfort to him. Each time the boy found himself at Mass, in Sunday school, or otherwise engaged in Church activities with people from Church, he felt awful.

His parents worried. His sister was too young to worry; she didn’t understand. His parents didn’t understand either, although they grasped that something was wrong. Their oldest child, their only son, was unwell. They argued about the cause, when they thought that their children were asleep and couldn’t hear.

Sean could hear. He heard everything from his room: his parents arguing, the occasional telephone calls to other family members or his father’s colleagues for advice, and then the more private admissions of helplessness that his parents would never acknowledge with others, in the daylight.

Sean could hear everything.

Not with his ears. Even pulling a pillow over his head and pressing down as hard as he could did nothing to dull his awareness.

There wasn’t room in his brain for everything he heard and sensed. He was only twelve years old, far too young to have to deal with adult problems, with adult knowledge, with adult secrets. Yet, bit by bit, the knowledge seeped into his brain.

Every secret. Every sin. Every thought.

The more people around, the more he knew, and the more claustrophobic he felt. Being alone in his room didn’t shut out his awareness, although it helped to mitigate a bit. Being surrounded by his family and nobody else helped sometimes. Not always, but sometimes.

Kathleen was so little, she didn’t have any real sins or secrets to hide.

His parents were another story. But they were so focused on Sean’s behavior and wellbeing that they had little room for anything else.

Sick. Crazy. Sinful.

Something was wrong with him. Sean didn’t know what. His parents didn’t know what, although they had theories. Sean didn’t understand the theories. He only wanted the pain to go away. He only wanted the never-ending drip of this awareness to leave him alone.

He wanted the voices to go away.

Sean isn’t normal, the voices whispered. Sometimes the voices shouted, The world is a mess, and it’s never going to get better, before displaying some new, life-changing secret of someone he knew or admired or respected.

The poor boy felt dirty all of the time. He’d taken to bathing four or five times each day.

It got so bad that his father, tiptoeing around the real issue, his fear for his son, gave him a lecture about hygiene. He reminded him that bodily exploration, while typical for his age group, was also sinful and against Vatican doctrine.

Sean hadn’t known what his father meant until halfway through the conversation. Then he’d turned red, assured his father that he just didn’t feel well and that bathing helped, and then hoped against hope that the elder Neville would never mention this again.

His father had abruptly changed topics during the conversation after blinking in confusion.

Sean had stopped hoping at people after that.

Instead, he prayed.

After all, the Lord was more powerful than any force on Earth. The Lord knew all, saw all, and could do anything and everything. The Lord was strong enough to combat the darkness inside Sean, and, if the Lord found him deserving, would release him from this Hellish trial.

Sean tried to purify himself for the Lord. He tried to do anything to prove himself deserving for divine intervention, but nothing worked.

Inwardly, he couldn’t fault the Lord. After all, he was obviously so full of sin because of the knowledge and sins he collected from other people. He was a lint brush, absorbing the secrets and darkness of other people, drawing it into himself.

How could he ever be clean enough or worthy enough when he couldn’t stop it?

“We need to go to Mass,” his mother told him one Sunday morning. “You need to confess before the new school year starts. You’ll feel better.”

Confession hadn’t made Sean feel better since the beginning of the summer. Being in church only made him feel worse, and he could never focus on the priest’s homily. Still, he’d complied, dressing himself in his Sunday best and then walking down the street with his mother, father, and sister to their local parish.

At the end of the homily, Sean’s parents went to the confessional before him. When they finished, his mother ushered him into the dark booth.

The boy sat down, clasped his hands in his lap, and said nothing.

“Do you have something to say, my Son?” The priest asked him, after a long moment of awkward silence.

Instead of confessing, Sean began to weep.

“Forgive me, Father,” the boy whispered through tears.

“For what?”

“For everything.”