CONTENT WARNING: This chapter contains trigger worthy topics, namely bullying and attempted suicide. Even if it is a fake attempt. Reader discretion is very much advised. Both topics are heavy ones so I apologise beforehand.


Flashback II

Winslow High was where hope went to die.

Or something equally dreadful. For what were its long hallways filled with graffiti and its claustrophobic bathrooms smelling of mould and its suffocating classrooms where boredom ruled if not hallmarks of an environment where hope no longer existed. So, what can you call the place where hope dies? Hell? Was high school Hell on Earth then? For Taylor, it might as well be. But never mind that for now, let's continue that train of thought: Winslow High as Elpis's murder scene.

On top of natural drama that occurs wherever and whenever a large number of teenagers exist together, there was also the gang violence supported by a system that once upon a time tried to enforce order but gave up after being hit back too many times. Not everyone remembered those first teachers who denounced misbehaving students to the principal never to be seen again the next class period, but those events became so engrained on the school's memory that the effects were still felt.

If the broken system wasn't enough the pervading feeling creeping into the student's hearts proved to be too much. Outside its walls the city was falling into decay and the corruption can be felt inside the school. Gang signs and dilapidated lockers and decaying furniture polluted the view of whoever laid their eyes upon the school, followed by packs of roving gang members, packs of the run-of-the-mill high school bullies, packs of loners, victims, oblivious people, and all those who tried to live a normal teenage life despite their surroundings.

But what was the point of good grades when the biggest employers in the city were the gangs? They certainly didn't care about grades. What was the point of putting hard work and effort if you were a person of colour or gay or transgender and because of it you'll never receive the fruits of your labour in this town? A guarded existence of constantly looking beyond your shoulder, flinching at swastikas or wincing at mere glances from other people; never knowing if the next person you meet will put a shiv in between your ribs for being who you are. What was the point of perfect attendance records when there was a large chance, you'll end up dead two minutes after leaving school grounds? A drive-by shooting, a gang fight, a cape fight, consequences of a random cape's power, or even, God forbid, an Endbringer, were all immediate threats inside or outside the school. This type of continuous existential threat did very little good for the minds of youth who were meant to have every expectation to live well into old age.

An apathetic attitude, therefore, prevailed. Innocence of childhood died when entering teenage hood, when one inevitably started to realise ones parents weren't always right, that the police won't always protect them, that their friends might move on or abandon them, that love wasn't unconditional or eternal and the future is not certain.

By the time High school came hope was on its last throes. It inevitably drew its last breathes inside the supposedly hallowed halls of this school.

Hope's death, however, might be delayed if did well enough to go to Arcadia, or if both of your parents were white and well enough to support the tuition fees of Clarendon. But was that delay good? Is ignorance of the truth of the world around you better than realizing the precariousness of life? Building your view of the world on wrong assumptions and ideas was like building a castle in the sand: inevitably the sea will come to tear it down. Usually for teenagers the sea came for the castle when that castle was still small, but what would happen if reality crashed down on an adult? Someone who built their castle large and high, restful in the security of its foundations for the entirety of their life only for it to be swept away by the waters?

Well, the bigger they are the harder they fall, as they say.

At least Taylor knew her castle had long since disappeared underneath the waves. The waters came and went and with new insight into the workings of life she could build it anew and better than before.

Finally arriving at said school Taylor's thoughts went to more pressing matters, namely how to quickly get to class without anything happening to her.

Her troubled mind had problems in keeping itself in one train of thought since that night but damn her if she wouldn't dedicate her last working brain cells in this task.

Quickly passing through Winslow's main doors she kept herself to the wall at the right in a hurried, but not too hurried, a pace. She made two turns to the right and up the stairs, a turn to the left and finally reached her locker. Finding it undisturbed she unlocked it and in one fell swoop took the notebook she forgot to get last time she was here and closed it again.

If everything went right, today would be her last day she would spend in this horrendous place. Her preparations took a long time to put in place but the fruit of her labours would be sweet. Now, she only had to go to class, act normal and then leave. If the Fates were good, the Trio would simply be their normal selves as well and-

"Hey, Taylor!"

Did she… she just jinxed herself, didn't she?

If she wasn't trying to be as apathetic as possible, she would have punched the arrogant bint and the traitorous bitch right then and there. Unfortunately, these past few weeks she was instead trying to look more depressed and apathetic than usual, so she simply turned around to look at the arriving group of people. Somehow, she just found it more depressing how easy it actually was to immerse herself into such moods.

Count to 10, Taylor, you have everything planned out, can't waste weeks of preparations just to punt the bitch to next month.

As usual, it was Emma leading the group of teenage sycophants with Sofia and Madison right behind her. She was wearing the best clothes that daddy could buy with her red lustrous hair left flowing to her waist. Sofia was merely wearing a jacket and faded jean sporting an amused grin with a look of contempt splattered on her face. Taylor just ignored the gnat named Madison.

"You're still coming to school?" Said Emma, with a teasing tilt in her voice.

"We thought you would have dropped out already!" Continued the echo chamber named Madison.

"Yeah, we were thinking you would have dropped out and joined your daddy in the drug house!" Emma said sweetly.

"Oh wait. She can't even do that can she?" Interjected Sofia, her grin transitioning from amused to bloodthirsty. "He ded." She snorted. "Don't worry, keep being yourself and you'll join him right quick."

Count to 50, Taylor, remember the plan. After today you'll never see them again.

She turned around, hoping her clenched hands didn't jump from their place at her waist straight to their faces. She couldn't even fully turn around before a hand grasped her shoulder and threw her to the lockers with a clang. She tried to supress the full body shudder that tingled her spine and made her twist her neck and ignored the colourful flashes that crossed and sparkled in the corner of her vision.

Oh! The things she could do to them now. Maybe she'll make them her test subj… no, Taylor, remember you can't tinker on them. Count to 100. Remember the plan.

"Where do you think you're going? We haven't stopped talking to you!"

She gritted her teeth and tried to close her eyes, only to be shaken violently against the locker, with a big metal lock digging at her back and hurting her further. She opened her eyes only to see her vision blurred with a sickly fog. Sofia's face appeared out of the fog very close to her own face, her face set at an angry disgusted look.

"Don't think you can turn you back on us while we are still speaking to you."

"Yeah, Taylor. Who thought you would be so rude? Didn't your mom teach you better?" Emma spouted from behind Sofia.

"Look-"

But before Madison could continue the farce, Taylor was saved by the literal bell. With a click of her tongue Sofia one-handedly shoved Taylor to the locker again making her drop to the floor. She said a few more scathing words about how she got lucky, but Taylor was no longer paying attention. Her eyes were clouded and her mind full of fog. Flashes and whispers were being bombarded into her mind and she couldn't really focus on the Trio, who were now departing to class. It took a few moments on the floor of the hallway for her to regain her bearings. The few people passing through not paying attention to her.

After this episode of sickness ended, she finally got up from her downed position, picking up the bag that fell during one of Sofia's shoves at the same time.

She took a deep breathe, tried not to think negative thoughts on how her episodes were growing worse and she moved swiftly to Mr. Gladly's class.

The day proceeded to go as expected. The Trio harassed her all through the day's classes and at lunch time, when she hid beneath the staircases reserved for the staff, she got hit from above with a mix of raspberry soda and beer, making her both sticky and stinking of alcohol. After that impromptu shower given by the Trio she told herself that enough was enough and left school.

The first thing she did when she reached her house was take an actual bath.

After that she decided to put her plan into motion.

She sat her desk and wrote a few letters. One for Kurt and Lacey, who had taken custody of her after what happened to her dad. Although they had tried to make her come live with them, they too were barely making enough money for themselves so Taylor had refused and subsisted of her dad's life insurance while staying in the house.

Yesterday, however, she had discreetly sold the house and the furniture inside to a real estate agency, one of the few still operating in the bay. Her tinker stuff had long since been relocated to the new apartement, but she had spent the last few weeks organising her father and mother's stuff into crates and sending them to the dump outside of town, exchanging half-way for different crates and sending the real ones to her new home base. With this particular letter she was giving them the money of the sell while apologizing for what she was about to do.

Three letters followed. She even wrote one to Emma and Sofia, though granted Sofia's was only filled with two large red-inked words: Fuck You. The final one was her last will and testament, which basically gave everything either to Kurt and Lacey, her distant grandma, or as donations to charity.

By the time she was done the moon was rising. When she finished she got dressed with the best clothes she had in her wardrobe, picked up a small sack filled with only what was needed for the next part of her plan and got out of the house.

She took one last look at everything before she left.

She probably would never come back to the house.

Trying hard not to have a breakdown she quickly turned around, went to the front door and, after locking the door, she left for her last destination before her last part of the plan.

:::

Annette Rose Hebert
1969-2008
She taught something precious to each of us.

Daniel James Hebert

1970-2010

The anchor who kept the ship from drifting

She keeps looking at the grave whose dirt was only now getting settled. The flowers that she put contrasting with the grey stone and black letters of the gravestone in front of her. She sighed sadly and spoke to it.

"Sorry, mom. Sorry, dad. This will probably be the last time I'll be able to see you. I hope you are together wherever you are and that you can rest in peace." A pause, then a snort. "Don't worry too much about me. I'll be fine."

A few moments pass and Taylor silently weeps, a few tears down adorning her cheek. Then there's a huffing sound and a heavy intake of breath followed by a slowed breath of air.

"I'll be going then. Goodbye mom and dad. Thank you for taking care of me and raising me well."

:::

It was a long way down from the starting point of her jump.

When she finally hit the water, it was like being hit by a truck. Thankfully, the most recent dosage of her compound held true, and she came out of it (mostly) unscathed. The worst part was trying not to hit the sea floor after her drop and then swimming all the way from there to the agreed location.

By the time she dragged herself from the frigid cold Atlantic waters to the small ramp that dipped into the sea a mile from her initial position she felt like her body was one giant bruise. She didn't break any bones but…

Note to self: next project should be on upgrading the brute formula.

She was simply resting, belly-up, arms and legs splayed around like a starfish when suddenly, a large warm towel is dropped on her head.

"Hi, Tay-Tay!"

She adjusted the dropped goodie across her body and sighed, already feeling slightly warmer despite the cold still being felt in her bones.

"Hi, Aisha."

Taylor looked at the person who had just approached bouncing energetically. Today Aisha was wearing a black top beneath a biker's jacket with faded jeans and her hair was, as usual, a mess but one that was carefully coordinated to only look like a mess. The single large strip of violent purple dashing through her hair accentuating her face and was falling down her cheek. Her lips were painted chocolate, but the rest of her face had very little make-up which Taylor thought was completely unnecessary to begin with since her new friend ('cause what kind of person helps fake a suicide if not a friend) was drop dead gorgeous.

"I wasn't actually expecting you to jump from the highest container crane, ya'know? You almost gave me a fucking heart attack." Aisha says with an amazed tone of voice, then she hands Taylor a couple of bandages and a bottle of povidone iodine. "Here for the wounds."

"You thought I was actually going to do it?"

Aisha simply looks at Taylor, her eyes searching something from Taylor's face, as the wet girl looked after her self-inflicted wounds in her arms.

"For a few moments? Yes."

A few moments of silence passed as both girls seemed to be consumed by their own thoughts. Aisha was now looking at the far away crane with a pensive look.

"Did the camera watched my fall?" Taylor broke the silence with her inquiry.

"Yup. Did you leave the razor up there?"

"That and enough hints of blood for whoever comes to investigate figure out what I did. I left my letter at home like we planned so there's no doubt of what happened."

With the wounds bandaged and her body warmer than before she got up from her crouched position. The dark secluded corner of the docks where Taylor swam to barely let her see her new friend if not for her improved vision so Taylor could only vaguely see the expecting look adorning in her companion's face. Not wanting to look at it for too long she bent down to pick up the respirator and goggles she used to swim underwater across the docks.

"So, now you are free."

"Now I am free. I can do whatever I want."

"You are going to need a new name, right?"

"Yeah, haven't really thought about it."

"How about Sera?"

"Sarah?"

"No, Sera, like serum. We make it an inside joke."

"Hm. Sure, why not."

Aisha's face transformed to a look of giddy anticipation.

"What are we going to do tonight, then?"

"Tonight, I am going to rest. But tomorrow we are going do what we'll be doing every night from then on." Taylor said sporting a similar look to Aisha's. "We try to save the world." Then she shrugged. "Or at least, this little corner of it."