Time seemed to slow as the debris fell. Tom ran for the elevator, leaving the scene. I stood frozen and stared in awe at the carnage. The clanging was the worst sound I had ever heard. The metal bounced and cracked the concrete before settling.  Metallic rubble, supports from the ceiling that had been ripped out and broken into chunks, lay on top of the one person I cared most for. I finally gathered the strength to move and ran to find James. He couldn’t be dead, he just couldn’t. 

I found his head and half of his chest laying outside the pile. I rushed forward and lifted at the metal. It moved surprisingly easily, which caused me to panic, but I kept moving it. I looked down and realized that James had regained consciousness and was helping lift it. His face was red with effort, and veins popped out on his neck. Once he was out of the rubble, we dropped the supports and I looked up and down at his broken body. It didn’t seem like many of his bones were broken, probably a few ribs and a leg, but blood was caked on his hoodie and jeans. He coughed and whispered hoarsely.

“Ow,” Blood leaked from the side of his mouth. I laughed painfully and cradled the side of his head.

“We’re gonna get you out of here,” I insisted. 

“Lyla, I’m sorry. I should have told you,”

“Shut up, we can talk about that later,” I argued, and then his eyes closed again. I put my forefinger to his neck and felt a pulse.

“Come on Lyla, you can do this,” I encouraged myself. I put an arm under his armpit and dragged him up to my shoulders. I slung his arms over my back and dragged his heavy body towards the elevator. We rose and I felt tears falling down my face, warm water from my eyes blurred my vision. I wiped the drops with my sleeve as the bell for the elevator dinged. I trudged through the lobby and caught the attention of a few businessmen that were walking through with their briefcases. Their expressions were that of surprise, but I ignored them. I kept moving, making it to my car on the road. I opened the back seat and dragged his limp body into the seat, trying not to worry about the blood leaking all over the leather.

Once he was in the car entirely, I reached over him and shut the door then climbed to the driver’s seat. After starting the car, I peeled away towards Raymond’s.

I slammed the car door and rushed to the door. Ray burst from the apartment immediately and rushed to the car, not giving me a second glance. He swung open the back seat and put James over his shoulder, just like he had before. We moved quickly, bringing James inside and setting him atop a metal fold-out table Raymond had in the middle of the room.

“Quick, in the closet. First-aid kit,” He said urgently. Without a moment’s notice, I ran to the closet and pulled out a large box with a red cross on the top of it. Raymond clicked open the latches and flew through the box, finding a spool and needle and immediately going to work at James’ cuts. I stood back, my hands on my head, and breathed heavily. The images flooded my mind, I watched James get crushed by metal a million times on repeat in thirty seconds.

“He’s gonna need blood, what type are you?” Raymond said, not looking up from the sutures he was working on.

“O-negative, I think,” I answered, my voice cracking.

“Perfect, me too,” He said, dropping the needle, apparently done with it.

He moved to the closet and pulled out two bags for blood transfusions. I wondered for a moment where he had gotten them, then shushed the question away and tore the hoodie from my upper body. The cloth was soaked with blood in spots but it didn’t bother me at the moment. James needed me if I wanted him to survive. Raymond pulled a needle from his kit and stuck me in the middle of my arm. Blood moved through a tube and into one of the bags. I closed my eyes and grit my teeth at the pain. Once the bag was full, he did the same to himself. The pain didn’t seem to bother Raymond. I looked him in the eyes for a second and was once again plagued with images.

A fly buzzed in the corner of Raymond’s apartment and then was promptly killed with a dart. The image changed to James and Raymond talking.

           “We have nearly identical powers. Where that came from and why, I do not know,” Raymond said, hunched at the computer. James held up two fingers and looked at Ray quizzically

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

"Two," Raymond stated plainly. James didn't do much to mask his surprise. Raymond's mouth opened but nothing came out.

"Lyla!"

I was brought back to reality by Raymond. He looked at me, questioning what I was doing.

"What?"

"You just looked into my head," He said. "I felt it,"

"I-uh," I stammered, sounding extremely smart. "That just started earlier this week,"

He cocked his head to the ground and I tried my best not to delve into any more memories. No one else was able to tell when I peeked at their mind, but Raymond could. That scared me almost as much as my newfound powers.

“You can read minds?" Ray quizzed.

"I can see memories, but that could be possible. I've never been able to until recently,"

"Interesting," He looked at James for a moment. "What is he thinking about right now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Look closely, concentrate," Raymond stood and walked to his closet, pulling out a backpack and unzipping it. He pulled a mask from the bag and inspected it. It had one hole for both eyes and a smaller slit for the nose. He clenched his fist around it and brought the bag to the bathroom. I turned to James and thought hard. Nothing happened, no images flashed in my vision. 

I took both of my hands and ran them through his hair for a moment. His breathing was slow and steady. I leaned forward and whispered in his ear.

"Wake up,"

Suddenly, his muscles tensed and his brow furrowed slightly. Raymond rushed into the room from the bathroom wearing all black. He inspected James with interest.

"His blood flow just sped up, I can hear it,"

"What does that mean?"

"It means whatever you did, the extra adrenaline might help him recover faster,"

I glanced down at James and started concentrating again. My mind was flooded with every moment we shared together, including when he was masked. My voice echoed through James' mind.

"Wake up," bounced off the walls and into my ears with a certain confidence that I wasn't supposed to be hearing. The world around me blurred and sped past, leaving the images a blur.

I was shown a memory of James' that was familiar. He was below a highway overpass, trash and refuse littered the ground. In front of him was an old man in ragged clothes with a long grey beard. The top of his head was bare and bald, tattoos of animals across his skin.

"What else do you have to teach me?" James, maybe two years younger than he was now, asked.

"Your knowledge is nearly a match for my own, and I am nearly out of lessons for you," He admitted. "Though you have much to learn,"

"Then teach me," James exclaimed. His young voice was higher pitched and he was a lot scrawnier than the present.

“You are too naive,” The man admitted, all expression leaving his face.

“Naive?” James shook his head. “Because I helped those people?”

“You are never going to be able to save everyone, going down this path is only going to be your downfall,” The man spat through his long beard.

“All I hear at night is their screams!” James bursted out, his voice cracking, “Their cries of pain and agony as they burn in their homes or get robbed in the street. How am I supposed to sit and do nothing when I can do something about it?”

“Because it doesn’t benefit you, and it does not benefit them,” The man remained calm.

“I don’t believe that,”

“You help these people for yourself, not for them. You do this to stop your own annoyances and are none the better for it,”

“I will not stop what I do, not for you,”

“Then I have nothing left to teach you, not as long as you waste my time and yours,” The old man turned and started walking away.

“You’re leaving me just like everyone else in my life?” James’ face took an expression of loathing and sadness. “Fine, I don’t need you anyways. I already have everything you taught me. You can’t stop me from using it to do what’s best for whoever I help,”

The old man didn’t say a word, but disappeared around a pillar. James looked down at his feet for a long minute, then kicked the ground creating a puff of dust. He walked to a bag of trash on the ground and began kicking it furiously. The bag ripped and trash flew around in the air. 

The scene changed. The room around me was a dark office. A small light shone in the corner. Behind it was the face of a young lady working tirelessly into the night. She seemed worrisome and exhausted. The lights in the room turned on and she jumped halfway out of her chair. Her eyes darted to the switch where James leaned against the wall. He wore ripped jeans, a pale green jacket that was too big for him, and a stained white t-shirt. He looked tired, but ready for anything. He was now the same age as he was now, but dirtier than I was used to seeing him. He smiled slightly at the lady and I felt a warm feeling instantly. James liked her, as if she was family to him. 

“James, we’ve been looking everywhere for you,” She put her hand to her chest and started to stand. James raised his hand and shook his head.

“I’m not running again,” He admitted. “I’m done with all that,”

“You can’t keep doing this,” She explained.

“I actually wanted to talk to you about that,” James said, taking an interest in the floor. “I wanted to get those papers you talked about,”

“The papers?” She thought for a second. “Oh, those. So you want to stay with the Millers?”

“No, but I did want to have them ready, just in case,”

The world around me melted and I began to get sent flying backwards. With a start, I was now back in Raymond’s apartment, but James’ eyes were open wide.