Dear friend,
When I opened the doors I didn’t have any particular feeling of something life changing waiting for me in a second. No, not at all. I was clumsy, tripping over the couch and spilling some of my favorite orange juice on my shirt, my hair was a mess, `cause I had fallen asleep while watching some crap on TV. And I wasn’t even thinking who it might be there, outside the door of my apartment, in 3 am.
Because of the fact that I’m probably some blond chick in a comics or in some sort of TV serial, I didn’t check, who it was, before I opened the door. I regretted that decision the moment I saw who it was. To you probably he would seem like a normal guy, a little bit freaky with his black leather outfit and cloak. On his face you’d see nothing more than a cocky smile, while the girl, I, saw there danger and cruelty. Maybe you would notice the dark aura around him, but I felt all the misery he carries and is proud of. The entire nightmare he has become.
“Oh, it’s you again.” My mouth speaks, but I don’t even understand why. Have I met him? My mind is blank or, if you want to now clearly, there is only one thought, one silly thought – here comes the bad guy.
Maybe I forgot to mention that in his hands he holds a gun. I surely am freakin` out by now, `cause I have never seen one so close to my face. At least I think I am, because in reality I don’t feel a shit. My body isn’t my body and my heart is a simple beating machine. If I want, I could spin around and see all of my room, not moving a single muscle of my body. Someone would say I feel spiritual, hell no, I feel empty. Or better to say, I just don’t feel.
He pushed me back in my living room and sat on the couch. I forgot to listen, what he was saying, and somewhere deep down I knew that I have to speak, I have to let him know.
“If you think that that gun freaks me out you are fooling yourself.” And in the end I just say some shit in the line of this. I must really be stupid.
“Nice legs, ” he says as he slides his gun up and down my leg.
I got cold, when I really didn’t thing that’s possible.
“Listen, I just want to let you know that my superhero has gone out, and it would be a hell lot interesting if you come back tomorrow.” I wondered if shouldn’t be doing something by now. Don’t know, just maybe some kind of vase throwing or yelling or hitting. I guess I am the weak part in this story of glory and heroes saving the human kind.
“And why would that be?” he said moving he gun up to my breasts and neck. He wants me, every fuckin` guy in this story wants me. They think it should be a turn on by watchers, readers or hell who ever they are. Sex is what they want.
“You want to win over him. You want him to see how powerful you have become. If you do this here, you will only seem weak and pitiful. ”
“Hey girly, I didn’t even know who I’ll find behind the doors you so kindly opened to me. I’m here to make your life miserable not knowing you had some sort of superhero on your side. Well looks like this is interesting. Is he something like Edward?”
I didn’t understand at first who was Edward. And when I did, I felt like laughing my ass off then and there. If this was a different situation I probably would, but with the gun sliding in my décolleté I didn’t even smile.
“No, he is nothing like a overprotecting vampire always on my side. No. And I’m not his heroin, he is more like my hallucination.”
“So he is not even real?” he laughed.
“No, he is. He is real-er then real.”
“Real-er then real?” he smirked sliding the gun in my ear and puting on of his hands on my leg.
“Yes, you know, like prettier then pretty.” His grip on my leg hardened.
“Oh, he is pretty you say?”
I laughed, for miracle of God, I laughed in this fucked up situation.
“Oh, no, no, no. he is not `pretty`, he is handsome. The way he smiles, the way he goes and always comes back is breath taking and heart breaking. ”
“You so sure he will come back? He loves you that much you think? To me you look like a simple girly girl with nothing to come back for. Or maybe the sex is so great?”
I felt like I’ve fallen down. On a second I was beck in my body, craving for oxygen and my heart so fast and loud it echoed in every single corner of my living room. Maybe after my death they’ll call it the dying room.
I was angry, I was hurt and I made a mistake that maybe will cost my life – I spoke from my heart.
“I think he really does love me. Maybe I’m not his everything like in that vampire story. Maybe I’m not what keeps him moving forward or living the way he does. But this is why you never could be a hero, a saver, because in his heart it doesn’t matter if I’m a stupid chick or world famous scientist, but what matters is a heart that’s still beating, a soul in a never-ending cycle.”
The gun hit my eye and I was crawling on floor after I finished, what I had to say. His leg connected to my stomach and the pain made me scream.
“Scream, you little bitch. Scream for me now. I’ll tell him how much you loved him when he’ll beg on his knees for his life. ” he shouted kicking and kicking. What triggered him? What is the reason behind every bad guy? Is jealousy all there is?
I needed a moment to adjust to the pain so I could tell him what I wanted, but when I did I screamed like the monster enjoyed so much. “What’s wrong with you? Every bad guy wants to be better then the good one, I know, but you! You are a sick bastard with a power granted by your gun!”
The gun was in my face once again and his legs finally stopped kicking. He had a smirk on his face when he pulled the trigger. “Well, we’ll see about that, you slut.”
It’s been five years since then, but the flowers on her grave are still or again young. The superhero went to see her every now and then to talk to her, to say how much he missed her. He never mentioned the killer or the fight; he just came here to say that he loves her. He believed that she is a soul, flying somewhere around, listening to every word that came out of his mouth.
On the grave under the name and all the dates there were two words that he never stopped using when he thinks of her. Those are the two words he wanted to say to her, when he came back that bloody night. And those are the words killer violated in every possible way, but still not breaking the hero’s belief in them.
In a beautiful ancient font there were written “My everything”.
But, sometimes, when he stood there, alive, he felt like a liar, after all, he is still alive, and he is still saving people and killing bad guys.
Words on the grave were an idea from the producer, every story should have a moment of sweet misery. Fucking idiots they all are.
To him they said: “Don’t worry, next girl is on the way.”
And he realized that something is terribly wrong with his life. But even a superhero can’t change destiny. Or can he?
