Hope

I’m sitting outside on the stairs by the main entrance. I had to put on a hoodie to keep away the gusts of wind that enter this supposedly protected space along the street. I took my headphones with me, but I really don’t feel like listening to music, somehow. Even if it could block out my thoughts.

It’s early morning, the sun hasn’t been up for long. I stayed with Ezra for the whole time and neither of us got any sleep. He didn’t say anything, just lay on the gurney, unmoving, staring at the wall. It was a horror to watch. I don’t know if he even registered my presence towards the end. He seemed delirious, almost. So when Ms Scott finally returned a few minutes ago, I asked her to keep watch over him for a little and with a voice full of sympathy, she told me that it was okay. I’m sure she knows exactly what I’m going through.

In the front pocket of my hoody, my hands find one another and the nail of my right thumb presses into the bone of my left. It hurts, but it doesn’t get close to overshadowing the rest.

It was supposed to be me. I’m supposed to be suffering right now. I’m supposed to lie on that gurney while he… she is there for me and makes me feel better. She would do a great job, I’m sure. And what did i do? Just sat there silently, watching him.

Did I really just sit next to him for several hours?

It doesn’t feel that long and strangely, at the same time it feels like so much more. An eternity of emptiness.

Will we ever be the same? Will we ever go back to that strange duo of bubbly happiness and unrequited rudeness?

No, probably not.

For the first time, I’d felt genuine hope. Hoped that this would turn out fine, only to have my face shoved right back into how fine just isn’t an option. And it’s even worse, because I’m not the one who’s suffering, but somebody I care about. And it’s so obviously my fault. I don’t know how or why, but there’s not even a doubt in my mind. I bring death. I was supposed to feel pain but then I swapped bodies with Ezra and now he gets it. He, who only wanted to get away.

He said he was looking forward to being a hero, but I doubt it was ever about that. He didn’t want the spotlight or fame. He didn’t want lightning or telekinesis. He wanted wings. And see what he got.

Because of me.

I’d been happy to get away from Dad because then there’d be no way he’d die trying to save my life. But really, all I did was trade him for Ezra. I should have known.

I don’t hear her walk up from behind me, but suddenly, Maria’s there next to me.

“Hey,” she says, her brow creased slightly. “Mind if I sit with you?”

I look up at her, then back at my knees.

I want to tell her to go away. Because for some reason wallowing in self-hatred seems like the right strategy. Because I deserve to be alone for what I am, for what I do to people. Because maybe something will happen to her, too, if I let her stick around. But then I only shrug and say, “Sure,” and she sits down next to me.

I should say something, shouldn’t I?

Shouldn’t she say something?

Does she even know what happened? All that happened in the girls’ dorm was me running down the corridor.

Then why is she just sitting next to me silently in the early hours of a Thursday morning?

Just sitting here silently feels weird. I’m too miserable not to talk about just something because I fear she might be able to read my expression if I don’t somehow divert both her and my attention.

“Why are you up so early?” I ask eventually, not meeting her eyes.

“Morning person, I guess.” She doesn’t say it with a smile. She must know. “I usually go to the forest to train my powers a little before breakfast, because I’m up anyway. Can’t sleep past six for some reason.”

“And now you found me.”

Only yesterday, we were both at a party in my room, celebrating our new names. Ezra and Hope. Feels like a long time ago, even though barely anything happened.

Laughing faces, coloured light. Maya and Maria making a show of mixing drinks. Memories from another life.

“I think I know what you mean, now,” I tell her.

“Huh?”

“About not wanting to become a fighter, wanting to create something beautiful instead of destroying something or killing somebody.”

Unlucky that even for me that’s rather unlikely. My atlas values are too high not to end up with something vastly destructive. I’m already at the brink of crossing the healer’s threshold, Ms Scott told me, and my powers haven’t even manifested yet. It’s not much of a consolation that I might end up like him.

“Is this about Ezra?”

I give a vague nod.

“I heard that-”

“What kind of power is pain? How does that make sense?” I yell, almost. “He’s unable to talk, sleep or move. Why? Aren’t powers supposed to make us stronger?”

“I’m not sure the powers were designed to do anything in particular,” she says slowly when I’ve finally stopped myself from going on. “Maybe they just… happened, and now we have to deal with it.”

The ever-present question of ‘how’. How did superpowers come to be? How did a virus develop and came to be in a way that almost exclusively benefited the affected? Ezra is the first one I’ve heard of where the virus actually harms the carrier.

Really, the chance is next to zero. It probably comes from some secret lab, somewhere not too far from here. Or it was intentionally freed here for a test. A test that went so well that the powers spread all around the world by themselves. No, it was probably an accident. Who’d want uncontrollable, unpredictable powers handed to people at random? We’re freakishly lucky Atlas managed to gather the right people quickly enough, because otherwise this city would be an absolute wasteland now.

Other places around the world haven’t gotten that lucky, I’ve heard. Coup d’états being led by literally burning warlords, terrorists that could place bombs and get away because they could simply walk through walls. Armies of children with powers.

Okay, fair, none of them would stand much of a chance against the heroes trained at Atlas Academy, simply because they are properly trained. There are talks of sending a fair portion of our country’s force to help other countries establish similar forces. But they’re only talks and honestly, I won’t go. And neither will Ezra.

“You know it’s not your fault, right?” she asks in a gentle voice, interrupting my thoughts.

“Sure feels like it,” I reply bitterly and cross my arms over my chest. The wind is making me cold and the stone underneath my butt isn’t helping much.

“How, though? Even if those powers were meant to be yours, how is it your fault that you swapped bodies?”

“I could have not been there when the explosion hit him,” I say, already feeling stupid. She doesn’t get it. I can’t just tell her that I bring death because I am the dark. She’d laugh at me. And if I can’t make her see that I am just bad for everyone around me by default, her arguments are just plain better.

“And what then? For all we know, he could’ve died that day had you not been there.”

I frown at her. “Why? It’s not like I saved him.”

She shrugs. “You don’t know what happened that day, do you? You don’t know why you swapped bodies, whether it was just a coincidence or fate. And if it was fate, you don’t know the reasoning behind it.”

My throat is getting tight. I know she only means well by it, but she’s really not helping.

“You wouldn’t understand,” I say and get up.

She looks up at me fearfully, like she’s scared she said something wrong.

“Sorry, it’s… nothing personal. I appreciate the effort, but I really can’t do this right now.”

She nods slowly. “Okay, then. If you ever need someone to talk to or… just want to hang out silently, you know.”

I force a little smile. “Yeah. Thanks.”

She nods again and I turn and walk back into the building. Back to Ezra.

Aileen is there when I enter the infirmary. She’s quietly talking to Ms Scott when I enter, but stops when she sees me.

“What are you doing here?” I ask her, a lot less friendly than I’m probably supposed to.

She tries herself on an uncertain smile. “I’m here to help.”

My gaze wanders past her, to the gurney where Ezra’s supposed to be lying. Both are gone.

My heartbeat quickens. What are they doing to him? “Where is he?”

She raises both her hands in an effort to calm me down. “He’s in the operating room.” She points at an open door at the back of the infirmary. I vaguely recall having briefly wondered where it led to. An operating room? Why would you have something like this in a place literally swarmed with healers?

“What are you going to do to him?”

It’s not like I could keep them from doing whatever they wanted. I don’t have any superpowers yet. I hate the fact that I couldn’t even protect him from that.

“We’re going to take a sample of his spinal fluid to run a few tests. You remember how Ms Scott gave him painkillers in the night and they never seemed to work?”

Yes, I think. He didn’t even react to the needle in his arm.

I give a short nod.

“With that, we might find out how we can help him with his pain.”

Another short nod. It makes sense. I should let them.

“I want to be there when you do it.”

Both women nod. “We suspected as much. We might even need your help. You know, usually, this procedure, a lumbar puncture, is done under local anaesthesia, but we really don’t know whether that will even have an effect.”

I crease my brow. “So it’s going to hurt him?”

Aileen shrugs a little helplessly. “We don’t know. We’ll do the anaesthesia and just hope for the best and we told him what we’re going to do, but he didn’t react. And you know, if he moves during the procedure, that might be bad.”

I feel sick all over. This is so wrong! “So what do you want me to do? Hold him?”

“Talk to him, first of all. Maybe you can get some sort of reaction from him. You won’t have to hold him if you don’t want to, we also have the equipment to strap him down but-”

“There’s no FUCKING way!” I yell.

Neither of them seem particularly surprised. “Right. Figured.”

Taking a deep breath, trying to calm myself, I say, “So… when’s this gonna start?”

“The sooner we know more, the sooner we’ll be able to help him,” Ms Scott says and motions for me to follow her.

They lead me through the door, but I stop barely past it, because Ezra’s lying on a steel operating table, curled up to a ball. He’s facing away from me and for a moment I’m glad that I don’t have to see his empty gaze. Then I swallow hard as fury and self-contempt well up inside me.

You will NOT leave him alone in this.

“We’ll have to take off his clothes for this,” Aileen says. “Especially if he’s going to stay lying for a longer time. You know, if he can’t clean himself…”

Fuck. Right.

Straightening myself, I step forth. “I’m gonna do it.”

Aileen nods. “Alright. Please put this on him,” she says and hands me a blue hospital gown.

Then the two women leave the room to give us a little privacy.

“Ezra?” I say meekly once the door has closed behind them, cautiously walking up to the table.

“Hey, Ezra. Anybody home?”

As gently as I can, I put my hand on his shoulder, then lean in so my face is in his field of vision.

His eyes meet mine and there’s a tiny shift in his pupils. They don’t really focus on me, but I think they’re trying to.

“They’re going to do a…” what’s it called again? “procedure on you. I think it’s going to take some time and they want me to put this on you.” I wave the fabric at him. “Is that okay with you?”

Finally, his eyes really focus on me and there’s the sound of a low groan. I feel a sense of relief because at least he’s somewhat conscious.

“Do that again if you’re okay with this and don’t if you’re not.”

It’s not like I could do much about it. But if he doesn’t want any of this, I’ll bloody well do all I can to get him what he wants.

Another groan. Shorter, this time.

“Okay. I-” I break off, nervously lick my lips and start over. “I’ll try to be careful, but I’m doing this for the first time. So bare with me, please.”

Another low groan, accompanied by the tiniest of movements in the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t you fucking dare laugh at me, dude,” I tell him, trying to be mad, but really only half-assing it because he’s fucking smiling! Or trying to, anyway.

It takes me a moment to figure out how to approach this task, then I gently prop him up against my body and begin rolling up his shirt. He even manages to hold a little of the tension in his arms once I’ve put them up, making my job a lot easier. Then I ease him back down against the metal.

Another groan makes me flinch, then I realise what he’s on about.

“Sorry, I know it’s cold. It’ll only take a minute, then I’ll put the gown on you, okay? But I’ll first have to take off your pants.”

I’m really glad I don’t have to take off his underwear as well. I know it used to be my body and there really shouldn’t be anything weird about this, but the body on the table before me is inhabited by an entirely new person. Not me.

Taking off the pyjama bottoms is a lot easier than the shirt. Soon enough, I feel my face heat as I hurriedly put the hospital gown over him and feed his arms through the sleeves. Then I only have to turn him onto his side and close it at the back.

“You can come in,” I call and the door opens again.

“Did you manage to talk to him?” Aileen asks as she stops next to me.

I nod. “He can hear us.”

“Okay.”

Like she probably did once already, Ms Scott knees by his head and explains the procedure in clearly enunciated words. When she’s done, Ezra signals with a short grunt that he’s understood and they get to it.

Ms. Scott gives him the anaesthetic through a syringe to the lower back, right into the muscle on either side of the spine.

Aileen and I have helped Ezra take on the position he needs, it’s almost comically similar to the way I found him earlier, when I returned from outside: lying on his side, knees tucked in.

It’s weird how usually, this pose is supposed to make you feel comfortable and protected, but right now it only makes him look fragile and defenceless. His back is openly accessible. Ms. Scott has already disinfected the skin for the anaesthesia, but that was fifteen minutes ago, so now she does it again. Then she nods at Aileen and I.

“We’re going to hold you still, okay? Like we talked about,” I tell him.

Another grunt.

Ms Scott looks at me expectantly and I nod back at her. Then she inserts the needle.

Ezra doesn’t so much as twitch.

-

“Hey,” Emily says as I close the door to our room behind me.

She’s tidied up, I realise after staring at our desks for a second. All the trash is gone, even my bed is made.

I swallow. “Hey.”

She doesn’t get up to hug me. We’re not that close and she probably deduced a long time ago that I’m not much of a hugger.

But she does give me a tentative smile.

“How’d it go?” she asks, uncertainty in her eyes. Like she’s scared of what I might say.

“Ms. Scott said the pain signals are initiated in his brain, somehow.”

“So painkillers won’t work.” It’s a sober observation.

I nod. I’m tired. So tired. I really need to sleep. But how can I, when he can’t?

I open my closet and begin gathering my things. I’ll be moving in at the infirmary, so I can stay with Ezra.

Ms Scott offered to take care of him overnight, but I ignored her.

He is my responsibility.

“You know what’s funny?” I say eventually.

Emily flinches a little, like I’ve scared her, even though she’s been absently watching me the whole time.

“What?”

“If I didn’t know better, if I didn’t know that this… virus doesn’t have a brain, I’d think it’s doing this on purpose. Hurting him right where the literally only way to help him is to knock him out altogether? That so doesn’t seem like an accident.”

She considers me for a moment, then rubs at her eyes. Right at that moment, she looks about as tired as I feel. “I wish I could tell you there was an enemy to fight,” she says then. “Somebody I could just…” she snaps her fingers “teleport up to and stab. Somebody… something I could defeat.”

She goes silent, but she doesn’t need to continue talking. “I hate not being able to do anything. And I hate that my powers, even when I eventually do get them, won’t be able to do much about it.”

Emily nods. “Yeah. Same.”

SeptemberMorgan

Fun fact, I've made the observation that in my opinion this story only gets better as it continues. Is that a little arrogant? Maybe. But I didn't think that when I was writing Moonlit Waters (even in the good half), so... there's that. At least as far as I've written right now (currently sitting at chapter 21, lol) the story only gets more interesting and fun to write. So, I guess you guys have a lot to look forward to :)