Life waits for no one and neither did Lyra. For the most part her life continued uninterrupted and ordinary. The same routine of school, training and a growing social life continued in the weeks the months that came. Her parents had met and approved of her boyfriend Richard for the most part, minus some intimidating jokes from her father. She survived the first year of high school strong and her parents were proud of her display of determination and responsibility. There was even a promise of allowing her to get her drivers permit early and talks of a surprise in the works.
Lyra found herself surrounded by people that she could joke with and talk to about almost anything, true friends. Warren rarely crossed her mind. On that rare occasion she would catch herself staring at her covered window or thinking about initiating contact it was forced out with a shake of her head. There was no need to look at the past when things were perfect and the future was bright. But life had other plans.
Warren sat up in his bed gasping for air. This feeling, this unbearable sadness tugged at his chest. This feeling that ran through his body was pure torture as a tear, out of place from his natural reserved features, escaped to slide down his face. He gritted his teeth and sucked in another agonizing breath. It was as if the air itself sent spikes into his lungs. Unimaginable sorrow ran through his vein with no reason or recourse. Slamming his head into the pillow, his fingers digging into his eyelids, searching for some kind of relief.
Out of nowhere it released him. Warren steadied his breathing while his heart pounded out of his chest as the lingering effects subsided into numbness. Once he had his bearings Warren out of bead and down the stairs in search of something to wet his dry throat. Knocking back a full glass of water her raked his fingers through his hair in exhaustion. It felt like all the energy had been drained out of him. But why? What had caused it? Where had it come from?
Feeling more composed he noticed it was almost dawn. The soft rays of sun was trying to peek its way pass the horizon turning the sky to a cloudy gray. If he went back to bed now maybe he could get a couple hour hours of sleep before starting the day. A teenager should be allowed to sleep in on summer break.
Warren crept out of the kitchen with every intention of doing exactly that when a soft sound caused him to stop. Following the sound to the living room he found his mother quietly sobbing to herself on the couch. She was oblivious distraught about something. The only time he had ever found her this bad was a few days after the news of his father. She would try to hide it, try to be strong for him. But once when she thought she was alone warren caught her in her moment of grief. He had left her alone to give her the freedom to grieve in private. But this felt different. He would not let his mother, the stronger woman he's ever known, go through this alone.
"Mom" Warren carefully walked into the living room letting his presence be known.
"Warren?!" His mother quickly looked away to wipe the tears from her cheeks. "It's late. What are you doing out of bed?"
"Couldn't sleep." Warren shrugged sitting next to her.
"Well it's a little early for breakfast." She smiled at her son. "Why don't we both go back up stairs and-" Warren wrapped his arms around his mother pulling her into a tight hug. His shoulder became damp as his mother started sobbing again. "I-I don't know what's come over me." She choked up. "I'm sorry you-"
"It's okay mom." He hugged a little tighter to reassure her. "You don't have to apologize. It's all going to be okay."
They stayed in each others embrace, both needing the comfort, until the sun had fully rose above the horizon. Neither of them discussed what had woke them up from their sleep. Neither of them thought it was more than pure coincidence.
This Can't Be Happening
Lyra stood half way down the stairs.
This Can't Be Happening
She was watching as the two men in suits talked to her mother at the front door.
This Can't Be Happening
Her mother turned to Lyra. She couldn't hear her mother's words, but that look spoke miles. Lyra ran up to her room and slammed the door.
This Can't Be Happening
She couldn't think. She couldn't process.
THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING
Blinding, hot, all encompassing white surrounded her. Lyra let out a glass shattering scream and pieces of metal fell at her feet clanging as they hit the floor. In an inconsolable rage she ran around the room destroying everything in it. A she lifted the desk lamp her wrist was caught and body was spun around to face her mother. Lyra dropped her arm letting the lamp slide out of her fingers.
"Tell me" Lyra begged. "Please tell me this isn't happening."
Her mother pulled pulled her in and Lyra released it all. They fell to their knees as her mother stroked Lyra's hair soothingly. Lyra accepted her fate with the sound of dull clicking around her wrist.
Clint Wilson's funeral was held as a private affair. Everything felt like a blur of sounds and colors as the service began. For a small service there were a lot of speakers. Most of them had worked with her father at one time or another. There would be a joke thrown in here and there and the group would laugh with fond memories. But Lyra didn't hear a word. Her eyes never left the coffin that held her father's body. The service ended with her mother's speech and it was time Lyra was dreading, greeting the guest.
"Sorry for your lose."
"Beautiful service"
"He was a good one"
The whole time Lyra stood there in her black hoodie covering the black dress. She shook hands and thanked each of them for coming. An unexpected hug shocked her back to the present.
"I'm so sorry." Mrs. Peace kissed her temple before releasing her. Warren stood behind his mother with his head down. Mrs. Peace moved to her mother. "You need anything don't even hesitate to ask." They moved out of the line to allow the other guest their time.
After the burial a small group congregated at the house. They had all gathered with her mother around the table telling work stories while Lyra watched from the kitchen island.
"My favorite has got to be Budapest." A skinny red head served the group dessert taking a seat next to Lyra's mother. "You remember Budapest right?!" She nudged Lyra's mother, who immediately started to blush. "I...Umm... Not quite sure about this." The red head did a spot on impression of Lyra's father.
"He wouldn't stop whispering sorry sorry sorry in the microphone." Lyra's mother chuckled and the whole table joined in on the laughter. Even Lyra smiled at the fond memories the group was sharing
"He was a good man." One of the blonde men stated. "Always had your back no matter the situation."
Everyone shared the same sad smile. Lyra could feel the remorse in the room. Clint was a man you could depend on, yet none of them were there for him in his time of need. They would all regret it for the rest of their lives.
Needing some air Lyra slid out of the kitchen undetected out to the back yard into the night. Setting into the tree swing that her father never got to taking down, Lyra tuned out the muffled sounds of the house and let her mind wonder.
Warren easily spotted Lyra from his patio. She had discarded the hoodie, only in a knee high black dress, He watched as she stared off into the empty space in front of her. The only sounds she made came from a pair of hand cuffs, both attached to the same wrist, clanging together as she swayed. It didn't feel right to be watching her at such a vulnerable moment. But he could tear his eyes away. Casually he strolled over to the waist high white picket fence that divided the properties.
"What's with the the cuffs?" Warren awkwardly tried to strike up a conversation in this uncomfortable situation. It was a legitimate question. He had never seen her wearing such a fashion statement. Lyra didn't respond to his question or his presence. Warren shifted from one foot to the other unsure of where to go from here. He didn't need this. He didn't need to stay and try to talk to her. He could just turn around and leave. "Saw your dad on the news."
Now that got an immediate response. "And what?" Lyra head snapped up to stare daggers right at him. "Now you think that gives you a right to have an opinion on the subject." She hissed.
The cat had officially been let out of the bag. Clint Wilson, Lyra's father and all around family man, was the archer vigilantly that had been slayed in the line of duty. He had been patrolling one of the major cities to the east of them.
Public opinion was very mixed on the subject. There were strong arguments on both sides. Some citizens thought he was doing a public service. That he was helping decrease crime like any patriotic american should do given the chance. Others thought he was another menus to society. They believed that we should all leave the crime fighting to the supers and go about our daily lives. Some even thought it was a good idea to start a protest at her father's funeral. Her father's friend would never allow such a sight of disrespect while the family grieved. The had effectively scared off anyone looking to make trouble at the service. But Lyra had seen the discarded signs saying things like 'Leave the hero work to the real heroes'. Those cowards disgusted her.
"Are you one of those?" Lyra stood walking towards the fence. "One of those self righteous assholes that believes the only ones worthy of fighting for what's right are the ones who prance around in tight spandex with super powers."
"I was-" Lyra jabbed Warren in the chest with her finger.
"My father trained everyday to protect people. My father fought everyday to protect people. He sacrificed everything to protect people. He saved countless lives. He didn't need super powers to do any of that." Each point was exclaimed with another jab to the chest.
"But I-" Lyra grabbed Warren by the collar pulling his upper body over the fence.
"My father was a god damn hero." She shouted in his face. "Now half the world is using his death as a lesson to anyone hat wants to stand up for what's right. The are treating him like a fucking criminal. They are talking about him like he was your dad, like a despicable villain."
Warren's lips turned down into a scowl. "Well at least my dad's not dead."
He instantly regretted what he had said. He wasn't there to start a fight or hurt her. Things were not going as planned. He didn't really have a plan. But before her could apologize or take it back Lyra shot forward headbutting him right in the nose.
Warren was on the ground, blood dripping down his face, as Lyra stood above him looking down. She spun on her heels and walked inside slamming the door behind her.
"Smooth kid. Real smooth" Warren glanced at the man with slicked back black hair and goatee as he popped another bite of pie into his mouth.
"Yeah" Warren got to his feet and wiped the blood from his nose with his arm. "What do you know?" He bit back.
"I know better than to piss off a member of the Wilson clan." The man licked the back of his fork. "Especially the women."
"Whatever" Warren brushed himself off and marched inside.
