Mia-Teresa-Davenport: The trigger warnings in "Questions" are absolutely positively not meant to be taken lightly. If any of these trigger warnings listed below bother you in any way shape or form, then please, please, please listen to me when I say to you: DO NOT READ THIS STORY.
The trigger warnings are: Mentions of cyber bullying, cutting, attempted suicide, and all around the general feeling of self-hate.
I very, very highly recommend that you DO NOT read the rest of this story if those types of things make you uncomfortable. I'm being totally serious.
Soundtrack: "Ash" by Secession Studios.
-Page Break-
The bright flashing lights that glare down at him hurt his eyes immensely. The microphones are shoved a little too close to his face, and the uncomfortable, dark red un-padded chair feels like it's going to break under his weight, and the cold metal hurts his butt. But he doesn't say anything about that.
It's hot in the room, hotter than it should be. It feels like a million degrees. It feels like he's standing on the sun.
But maybe that's just him.
There are so many big cameras and so many different colored microphones in his face. Too much. It's all too much.
Too much.
He feels claustrophobic suddenly, like he can't get enough breathing room. It feels like he's suffocating.
He moves his tan left hand up to his shirt and he quickly but effectively loosens the collar of his red and black checkered shirt and swallows hard to stop his mouth from drying up completely like a desert.
He knows that there are a thousand eyes of all different colors and shapes staring at him, and a million- maybe even a billion- more eyes watch and ears listening, watching, and judging him from their television screens, from their iPhones and from their Samsung Galaxies and from their computers and listening on the radioes they no doubt have.
They want to watch him break.
The reporters in front of him all shout questions. "Adam, what was your reaction when that video of you and your siblings using your bionics played for the first time?"
Scared that the Government would take us away and torture my siblings.
He answers: "I was scared because I wasn't sure how the world would react to us." Well, that's also true.
"Adam, how many girlfriends have you had?" One women asks, well more like demands.
They're vultures circling around prey. They all are.
Uh, I've had no girlfriends, miss. But I've had crushes on girls. There was this girl named Sabrina Anderson. She had curly blonde hair and icy blue eyes. She was really pretty. Although my little brother had a crush on her too, and, being the stupid and insensitive guy I am, I took advantage of that. Of my brother. I… I messed up his chance of winning her over. I made Spike, his Commando App, come out to play. And… and… she got scared. She walked out of the house and would probably never come back if I hadn't talked to her. Chase had yelled at me, and he didn't speak to me for the entire night and for the rest of the morning. We made up late in the afternoon during school, though, and we went on being like normal siblings. But I… I still feel guilty for what I did.
His answer: "Um, yeah, a few girls, ma'am. But they all got scared when they found out I was bionic. But I don't… I don't blame them at all, I mean, can you imagine? That must've been scary and weird for the girls." He chuckles, then places a fake smile on lips that lie.
"Adam, you're so kind to your siblings." A women comments in a sweet voice.
"I know. It's part of my awesome charisma. Thank you, ma'am." He says, a kind smile fluttering across his lips on his command.
No, I'm not. I'm far from it. I hurt my younger brother on a daily basis. I watch the dullness he has to his eyes now and I spend every moment feeling guilty for the pain I've caused him for all of his life. How can you say that? I'm a monster.
I am a monster.
I'm a monster.
"Adam, what's your relationship with your sister?" One report shouts with a smile.
"Oh, Breezy?" A bright smile slips onto his lips too easily as he says her nickname he and Chase called her when they were little kids. "Breezy is the bestest sister I'm sure anyone could ever ask for."
What he doesn't say: I made my best friend, my sister cut herself and I was the one who made her suffer and I just watched her drown until she was nothing, a little at a time. I watched her suffer and I did one hundred percent nothing about it. I found her sobbing her eyes out over the amount of hate she received from people on Twitter, Tumblr, Instagram, and Facebook. I came home one day from school and I couldn't find her. I looked all around the house and then I heard muffled sobs coming from one of the bathrooms and I found that the door was locked. I heard Bree crying and I heard something dripping steadily onto the floor. It sounded like water. I got concerned, and so I finally did something about it. Since the door was locked, I… I had to kick open the door with my super strength.
Deep breath. He has to stop himself from having a panic attack in the middle of this press conference.
What I… what I saw will be permanently engraved into my brain forever. I stood there and I watched, frozen with fear- as my little sister bled out on the cold bathroom floor to near-death. Her dark brown eyes were closed and she had blood running down her arms. A razor blade stained with her blood was laying down next to her oozing light red hand. Do you know what that's like, watching your sister bleed out and knowing that you didn't see it coming when you should have? Do you know what else I've done? Do you know how many dark secrets I hold inside of me, the dark secrets locked away in my dark and cruel heart?
Do you know the real me?
"Adam, do you miss your old life at all, before you and your siblings' bionic secret got exposed?" A male interviewer asks, a black inked pen in his caramel color skinned hand and a open notepad at the ready.
They're all vultures.
He shakes his head and says smoothly: "No, I don't miss my old life. I love not being able to hide myself from you guys anymore."
Oh the irony.
He gives a short but hearty chuckle, and the rest of the vultures caw and cackle along.
Because he's the star of the show. The mask is in place.
And the mask must stay that way. On, without any signs of cracks of breaks. It has to be perfect.
After all, he is portrayed by the media as perfect. He knows he has to keep the fans happy, and he knows that he has to stop people from asking so many questions about he and his siblings' personal life.
He has to be fake for these people. He has to be.
Because after all…
The show must go on.