Maybe

It was several weeks later, and I had begun to juggle the possibility of turning in my stepfather. Warren and I hadn't spoken of the incident, and no more threats had been shared – partly because Mike hadn't laid a hand on me since the fork incident – so we mostly sat in silence during lunch. It had become routine for me; reading at the lunch table and accepting the soups that Warren slid my way, never forgetting a spoon alongside it. Eye contact was minimal, but he spoke to me during Mad Science and made a visible effort to remain civil. Even when he and Will beat the villains in 'Save The Citizen' (a cruel game that Coach Boomer, our supersonic screamer gym coach had invented) he didn't say a word about the match to me. I didn't know what kind of words were hiding under his facade, but I was very much terrified of what he might have had to say. Partly because it all would have made logical sense; Warren would say that I should march straight up to the police headquarters and have my stepfather arrested, get my mother through rehab treatment and get myself into a safe foster home until she was safe enough to take care of me. I had explored my options, and besides the chance of Mike sending one of his friends to wipe me and my mother out, the plan was relatively airtight. Despite this, all I managed to do by the end of the week with my knowledge was apply for welfare. I was seventeen and in my junior year, meaning that I was eligible to apply and had a viable reason to. I didn't know if Warren liked this idea, but if he didn't he masked it well and simply grunted when I told him.

This meant that I would be able to save money, and that I would most likely end up moving out after finding a job. The key goal was to build towards turning Mike in, but day after day I just couldn't find the courage. What if I did get placed in a foster home? I didn't want to go live with someone I didn't know – and I certainly didn't want a medical team sending my mother away to rehab. If my mother was going anywhere, I was going with her, and a foster home wouldn't let me do that. So despite what Warren might have thought, this ran deeper than what his assumptions supplied him. I still needed time to think; the only risk factor was what Mike could do in this time span I had established.

"ELEANOR!"

It turned out he could do a lot.

I didn't reply at first, trying to creep my way through the house so that I could escape in peace. Warren had invited me to try the famous Paper Lantern's Chinese food, and I wasn't about to turn down that opportunity especially since my welfare check had just come in the mail. Unfortunately, Mike had come down on me at just the last minute, and I was praying that he hadn't detected the whiskey that had 'gone missing' last week. As usual, I had no such luck, and before I knew it I was being pressed against the front door just like my second day of school. I felt a deep pang of deja-vu, but a very awful and twisted kind. There was spit and the stench of alcohol being thrusted into my face – enough to make me reel and try to squirm away from his grasp even further. I could sense my oxygen levels depleting; Mike was yelling and I was wheezing and desperately trying to get a foothold somewhere, but to no avail. The black overcame me frighteningly fast, my last memory being Mike's angry face in between his two arms, squeezing my neck so hard it made his face red.

I came to five minutes later – as my clock revealed – slumped against the door curled into a fetal position. It took me a minute to get up and meander to the sink to get some fresh water in my system before I realized that Mike would be on the warpath again once he realized that I had arose and would most likely come after me again. Once I got into my room he didn't bother me, but if I was out here anything was possible. So I took my bag and fled, not even questioning where my mother was and too eager to join my friend and fill myself with a good meal. I was halfway down the street when I heard the breaking of glass, and down the block when I heard the shouting. I heaved a sigh and continued along my path. It was getting dark out now, so I hurried until I was greeted with the bright red lettering of the Chinese Restaurant and hurried inside to the warmth. It had gotten rather cold out, and my worn in skinny jeans didn't do much to defend my chicken legs from the weather. My combat boots were helpful, but I had been forced wear two layers on top so that I didn't catch a cold. I also had a hat and gloves – the gloves weren't so useful when their fingers were all missing, but I didn't care much. I walked through the rows of tables, finding the place almost cleared out for the evening, and then spotted Warren at a booth nearby with a red-haired girl sitting across from him. This was cause for curiosity, so I creeped closer.

"To let true love remain unspoken," He was speaking to her just as I approached their table. "Is the quickest route to a heavy heart."

I nearly stopped and turned right back around; I was clearly breaching on a sensitive topic and didn't want to disturb – for all I knew this was his girlfriend – but then I remembered seeing her around school, and at that point she had spotted me in all of my stressed glory and nudged Warren. He turned to face me, hair slicked back into a ponytail and apron around his waste, and shot me a smile.

"Layla, this is Eleanor," He introduced me as I approached cautiously, nervous about meeting a new person. "She likes to read – doesn't talk much."

I almost snorted at his description – it was true that I didn't talk much with anyone else besides Warren – but merely settled for forcing a sweet smile out of my lips and shaking hands with Layla. She left seconds later, thanking Warren and bidding him farewell until school tomorrow. I watched her go, wondering whether or not to take her place or to simply stand and wait for my friend to decide for me. He seemed to choose the former, and motioned for me to sit down as he cleared Layla's plate.

"I gotta finish my shift," He nodded towards the kitchen. "I'll bring you something to eat and I'll be out as soon as I can."

I nodded, settled myself down and refusing to take off any of my clothing – I enjoyed the warmth and staying bundled up. It wasn't until he came back around five minutes later with some food, and ten minutes later with his old hair back and his familiar jacket, that I really began to tear out of my comfort zone. He watched me in avid fascination as I scarfed down the food as fast as possible, using the chopsticks to the best of my ability and hopefully not making myself look like a fool. At this point I didn't really care; I just wanted to eat forever based on the signals my stomach was sending me. Warren watched as if he had never seen anyone eat this way before, and I briefly wondered if he had ever breached the topic of eating disorders and binging; it was the closest voluntary behavior that I could compare my involuntary diet to.

"Sorry," I apologized, mouth full. I truly was; I hadn't eaten a proper meal in days since my first check hadn't come through, so I was particularly famished.

"No," He shook his head, leaning back in his seat and shooting me a lazy smile. "Go ahead – get some meat on those bones."

That seemed like a long shot considering my body didn't allow me to gain a pound past 110, but I didn't say anything to the jab and continued to eat until my plate was empty. I then stopped for a moment, breathing and taking the giant glass of water beside my plate. It took another minute to finish it all, but I did so with a satisfied smile. I guessed that a bit of light returned to my eyes, because Warren complimented my complexion and mentioned that my paleness had gone away.

"You're bags are better," He pointed to my eyes. "Getting more sleep?"

"I guess," I yawned, somewhat disproving his point. "I read when I can't sleep."

"Same," He huffed. "But no matter how much sleep I get I'm always exhausted."

I could relate to that.

"What was Layla doing here?" I asked after a moment of silence, curiosity taking over as I eyed my friend across the table. It wasn't exactly suspicion, but I was merely wondering why the girl had shown up at Warren's work.

"She was supposed to meet Will," Warren began to explain, stealing some of my water and causing a slight smile from me. "The girl's in love with Stronghold and he stood her up tonight."

"Ouch," I grimaced, feeling sympathetic towards the girl. It wasn't fun to be left alone, especially when someone had agreed to plans with you. At the same time, however, I felt slightly comforted by the fact that her eyes had been set on someone different than Warren. The Homecoming Dance – happening in October – was a popular topic at school these days, and everyone was very amped up about who was asking who and who was angry at someone else. I rarely listened in on these conversations, but it was hard to ignore after awhile and I found myself amused by some of the antics of the students. I definitely wasn't going; big social events – especially where there was no alcohol allowed – were not my thing, despite the fact that I probably wouldn't even be asked. Despite this, I continued to feel safety when I heard that Layla had her interests set on someone else.

"Yeah," Warren dragged me out of my thoughts. "Knowing the idiot he doesn't even realize she likes him."

My eyes snapped back to his face, where he regarded the candle (which I could only assume that he had lit himself) with a steely gaze. I decided to change the subject, considering the fact that it wasn't a good idea for Warren to be thinking about Will and his powers at the same time, and also that I wanted to get my mind off of his eyes and his muscles.

"When did you find out about your mutation?"

Warren searched his memory, clearly not used to being asked and obviously showing that he didn't search the libraries of his brain for that answer much. "When I was ten, I think. I got angry after my dad and I had a fight, and I torched a book I was reading. You?"

"I was five. My mom fell down the stairs and hit her head," I explained. "I didn't know what to do so I wanted to stop the blood flow with my hands, and I realized something was happening."

"What is your power?" Warren made a face, as if realizing just now that all this time he hadn't known what my ability was.

"I'm a healer," I responded, playing with my long sleeves and chipped fingernails. "I can regenerate."

I watched for his reaction, which was a mere surprised recognition and a slight leaning back. That left the unspoken explanation that I couldn't bring back the dead, so Warren fired off his next question.

"What about diseases?"

"Haven't tried."

"Infections?"

"Same thing."

"Yourself?"

"Pardon?" It was here that I faltered, and acknowledged my hesitance to explain the one weakness I had. When I told people I was a healer, it was a natural assumption that I was able to heal myself, so I had originally thought that Warren would have made the same mistake. It would have been slightly obvious with all of the injuries he had seen on me; if I had been given the gift of regeneration for myself I wouldn't have had injuries at all. Yet, I felt I owed him an answer, and told him the truth.

"Can you heal yourself?"

"I can't..." I practically hung my head in shame; I didn't like admitting my limitation out loud, especially since it was such an ironic one. What kind of healer was I if I couldn't heal myself as well? "No. I can't heal myself. I've tried, but...no."

He was quiet for a second, trying to read the expression in my eyes before sighing and picking up my plate. "Regardless, that's kick-ass."

A smile spread over my face, causing him to return it and promise to come back to walk me home. It seemed like each time I spent a bit more time with Warren, we came a bit closer together. I got to know him better, and he got to know me better. Even if it was in microscopic increments – literally – we were becoming closer friends. I smiled at the thought, and made my way to the bathroom after slipping on my jacket again to make sure that my neck hadn't developed any marks. Of course, upon entering and looking into the mirror, it was clear that I wasn't going to be that lucky. Bruises were starting to form, encircling themselves around my neck and throwing me into a panic. I frantically searched my bag for my cover up, slapping it on as fast as I could and making sure that I covered any parts that could develop bruises.

I stopped after a minute, acknowledging a deep pit of negativity and guilt in my stomach as I realized that if this didn't end soon, it would be the story of my life. Covering up Mike's tracks as he ruined my life was not something that I wanted to do, but I was too frightened to make a step towards brightening my future. Sure, welfare was a step up, but it still hadn't eliminated the problem. I furled my eyebrows, staring at myself in the mirror as if trying to figure out my own brain. I sighed after a minute, realizing that moping about it wasn't going to get me anywhere, and packed up my bag again to go meet Warren at the table.

I found him waiting, bag in hand and chin in his hand.

"How much was it?" I walked up to the table, opening up my wallet and expecting to be charged.

"Don't worry about it," He shook his head as he rose. "It's on the house."

I merely smiled, thanking him for the gift and followed him out the front door of the restaurant. I would have to remind myself to take him out sometime in the future to repay the favor. We made simple conversation as we walked, talking about our favorite movies and what kind of music we liked. It turned out we both had a passion for old rock and adventure movies, despite our differences in watching humor – obviously myself – and horror. For me, my life had been horrible enough to get me off of stupid thriller movies forever, which included the stupid box-office hits like Saw and Scream. I had had enough of gore and jump scares; I got enough to them at home and had healed enough bloody injuries in my time to know that they were never any fun. Warren, on the other hand, had a sweet spot for them, and ate them right up like no tomorrow. He had seen all of the majors I could think of, but kept naming off random titles like 'The Skinner' and 'Hotel 666'. I couldn't keep track, and eventually we agreed to keep the conversation on classics, which we could come to an agreement on. We reached my house in ten minutes or so, still chatting amiably as he walked me up the creaky front steps and onto the porch. The ratty old wood wouldn't hold for much longer, but I doubted that Mike would want to replace it. Knowing him, he would most likely destroy the whole thing and just place a box as a step. Like everything else he did, it would be pathetic and stupid.

Suddenly the door swung open, and I was greeted with the site of my mother holding a cigarette in one hand and a beer in the other. She leaned on the door for support, stumbling slightly and trying to see who was standing next to me. Warren didn't say a thing, not even shocked at the sight of a woman like her. My mother wasn't exactly scary, but with her skeletal figure and sunken eyes she seemed more like a malnourished junkie raccoon than a human being. I was convinced that that was where I got my genes.

"Eleanor, honey," She slurred, leaning forwards. "Who's this?"

"This is Warren, mom," I introduced him, doubting that she would even remember his face tomorrow. "We had dinner."

"Dinner?" She smiled, hiccuping once with a strange smile on her face. "L-like a date?"

"No," I rolled my eyes, amazed at the fact that she was able to embarrass me any more than she already had by showing up at the door drunk. "Not like a date, mom. Thank you."

"Well exshcuuuuse me," She drawled, stumbling again and burping loudly. "I'm sh-sorry Warren – would you like to come in?"

"I've gotta head home," Warren shook his head. "Last bus leaves in about an hour. Thank you, though."

He didn't seem very thankful.

I bid him farewell with the promise of seeing him at school tomorrow, not missing the way that his eyes followed me as I ushered my mother inside and shut the door. After a brief moment or two of trying to control her, she promptly vomited on the floor, and I was forced to lead her to the couch and let her recover whilst I mopped up her stinky mess. It was sad, really; at this point in time it should have been her that was taking care of her daughter after a first night of drinking or something alone the lines of that, but the roles were reversed and this wasn't a normal family. I set the mop down in the corner and dumped out the bucket of waste, grimacing and going to wash my hands as soon as possible. When I returned to my mother I found her passed out cold, so I did her the courtesy of stubbing out her cigarette and placing her beer on the table. I didn't even want to ask where Mike was, so I did myself a favor and lead myself upstairs, preparing for bed and falling asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

Unlike all other mornings, this one had gone relatively fine. Mike had shown up again from god knew where and was surprisingly sober, eating a big breakfast at the table and only giving me a heated glare as I came down the stairs. I didn't retaliate, simply grabbing a slice of bread out of the fridge and making my way to the bus stop. I definitely needed to start eating breakfast more; nearly passing out from hunger in my early morning classes was not acceptable, and Warren was starting to notice.

"You have to eat normally," He reminded me at lunch that day as I finished my salad and ate his soup. "No skipping meals and shit – make sure you have a good dinner too. Hell, buy something here and save it."

"I can do my own groceries," I insisted, stretching my sore neck. I was grateful that I had remembered to put on my makeup this morning. "I just don't have anywhere to keep them."

"Are your parents really going to eat the food you bought?"

"Mike's not my dad," I muttered, frowning heavily and realizing that I had let something slip. My eyes went wide, and he frowned as well.

"Who?"

"Mike," I explained. "He's my step-dad. If I bought groceries he would probably eat them. He and my mom are really lazy."

And drunk, and abusive. My brain chided, but I pushed the little voice away.

Warren let the topic slide with a final grunt, and we both went back to our reading. He had finished The Bell Jar and moved onto Bifocal, a powerful novel speaking about racism and terrorism in the United States and how it effected teens as well as the rest of the world. I hadn't read it yet, but Warren had promised to let me borrow it once I had finished The Return of The King. It was almost embarrassing how many times I had read through the Lord of The Rings, but not as shameful as the total amount of times I had read through the Harry Potter series.

Suddenly there was a clack as a lunch tray was set down in front of Warren and I (one day he had switched his positioning so that he sat beside me instead of in front of me, and I hadn't protested) and Layla sat down with a smile.

"Hi Warren," She began with a bright smile, looking towards both of us. "Hey Eleanor."

"Did I do or say anything last night to make you think this is ok?" He leaned forwards towards her, sending out his intimidation tactic first.

"Haha," She chirped, shaking her head. "You're so funny – but seriously, you're never going to believe what happened. I was just about to ask Will to homecoming when wouldn't you know it; I told him I was going with you instead!"

"I don't remember that being the plan..." Warren narrowed his eyes venomously as I looked between them, confused and feeling like I was watching a baseball game. I didn't know why Layla would have told Will that, unless he had done or said something to make her so angry she would have resorted to asking his mortal enemy to the dance instead of him.

Ah – I understood now. This was a game of spite.

"Hey Layla," All of a sudden there was another girl sitting at the table, clad in purple and asking Layla about the history homework. She didn't seem hesitant to sit down and didn't ask Warren first, instead opening her book up and turning to her green hippie friend.

"What are you doing?" Warren spat, glaring at the purple girl.

"It's called sitting," She spat back, staring him down haughtily.

"No one sits here but me and her," Warren motioned towards me, causing both girls to eye me curiously. I shrank even further in my seat, wanting a hole in the ground to swallow me up. I didn't like these types of situations; meeting new people wasn't my forte. With Warren, I had been eased into it after the initial shock – getting to know him slowly was more comfortable for me and it felt more natural that way. But making friends right off the bat? That was something that my comfort zone didn't like at all. I felt exposed and raw, like a fish that had been caught that was ready to be gutted.

"Mhm," The girl pretended to understand, then continued on her conversation with Layla. "What'd you get for number four? I didn't understand if Tigerman was either a) bitten by a radioactive tiger or b) bitten by a regular tiger and then exposed to radiation."

Warren was visibly trying to contain his rage, but it didn't help when a short kid donned in orange plopped himself down on the other side of Warren and began a conversation as well.

"Hey," He began excitedly. "We're eating at Warren's table now?! I feel extremely dangerous!"

"Woah," Warren began to get overwhelmed as I looked at him with a half panicked expression. Then, just like another ant coming out of the ant-hole, a tall boy dressed all in yellow sat himself down uncomfortably close to me and began to talk.

"It this guy bothering you Magenta?" He asked the girl in purple, pointing towards Warren.

"Try the other way around!" My friend glowered, staring around at the new additions to our lunch table. "Does anyone else in this fucking crayola box need a homecoming date?"

Ethan raised his hand, and I was almost tempted to do so myself, but kept my body rigid and continued to listen. Layla began to laugh unnaturally and hysterically, almost as if she was forcing it, but when Will walked by with Gwen Grayson – one of the most popular girls at the school – Warren seemed to understand.

"Please," Layla begged. "I will make this as painless as possible."

"So you're not doing this 'cause you like me or anything," Warren confirmed, shaking his head. "You're doing this to get to Stronghold."

"Yeah..." Layla admitted, eyeing the two of us curiously.

"And I'm in," Warren retaliated, shocking the whole table and showing off a bright smile before returning his face back to a scowl. "But I'm not renting a tux."

He got up, purposely knocking the kid dressed in yellow with his bag, and waiting for me to finish packing up as well. I had already begun when he had gotten up; if Warren was leaving I was leaving too – there was no leaving me with these new kids. I wasn't in the mood to socialize with anyone else today, so I definitely wasn't going to push it. He and I walked in silence for a bit, until we found a secluded hallway near our next classes – I had fallen into the rhythm of school again and memorized my class schedule – until the bell rang. We didn't say a word as we departed, but Warren slipped a small slip of paper with a phone number on it (I could only assume it was his) into my hand before parting the crowds as he made his way to Hero History, whilst I trudged off towards Math. The day went relatively smoothly after that, and it wasn't until Wednesday that Layla had another run in with Warren. We were sitting outside before classes started, reading on one of the long blocks that created the foundation for the school, when Layla ran up to Warren just as Will was approaching and made sure that he overheard their conversation.

"Hey cutie," She sat beside Warren and disregarded me completely. "I was just thinking about you. I cannot wait for homecoming! I finally..."

She trailed off as Will and Gwen finally passed, staring behind their backs in the hopes that one of them noticed, and didn't notice that Warren's hand started to smoke until she had received a fireball to her hand.

"Ow!" She looked towards him in surprise.

"Don't ever call me cutie," He growled, picking up his things. "Come on Elle."

I looked at him in shock for a moment – it was the first time that he had called me 'Elle', and it sounded particularly nice coming out of his mouth – before sliding my bag over my shoulder and following along. I shot a shy smile at Layla, who smiled as best she could back despite her situation and watched us walk off towards the front doors. It had been days since I had met her and still hadn't shared a word; to be honest she seemed like quite a nice person as well as the rest of her friend group, but I just wasn't ready to throw myself into fast friendships like that. Her and Magenta – the purple girl – seemed very chatty and amiable, and I was shy and nerdy and quiet...I supposed that they wouldn't have liked me at all. There was also the fact that they were freshmen and I was a junior, meaning that I didn't see them in any of my classes and didn't have a better chance to get to know them besides lunch.

I followed Warren all the way up the stairs and down several hallways until we had reached our first class of the day, Mad Science, but it wasn't until the end of that period that he spoke. Our classes didn't come together for the rest of the day besides Power Placement, so clearly whatever he wanted to say needed to be said now.

"Can you do one thing for me?" He asked, packing up his books. I didn't respond, merely stared at him with a faithful gaze. Good grief; I almost felt like a puppy sitting and waiting for instructions from my owner. Obviously it wasn't the situation, but I had always been submissive, so I assumed that submissive I would stay.

"Could you promise me to call that number if you need a place to stay?"

My eyebrows shot up, before I regained control of my face and realized what had happened. He hadn't necessarily figured out my situation, but Warren had put two and two together and made the conclusion that I was being abused, and without accusing me or talking about my situation in any way, he had provided a safe space for me and given me something positive. He'd found the loophole, and he was trying to work that angle. I bit my lip and stared down at the paper whilst he waited for an answer, nodding after a couple of seconds and hearing a relieved sigh from him.

He said nothing else, but I felt one of his large, warm hands brush against my back in a comforting manner as he left the classroom. I forced down a shudder and continued to English, trying not to think about the choice I would have to make tonight. In all technicality, every night was a dangerous night to be at my house, so by Warren's logic, I needed a place to stay every night, which meant that every night I should call him up and ask for a place to stay. The reality was it couldn't work like that at all, which meant I either needed to expose my secret, or talk to Warren. The bastard was forcing it out of me either way.