I was stupid for thinking that I would be able to sleep. I'd like to say it was the throbbing pain of the burn on my right hip and leg, but that honestly probably made me feel better. There was a punishment for killing somebody, or at least something I could point to to say "this is why I had to do what I did." Lacking any of the distractions pizza or television or even just hanging out with my father provided, my mind was free to dwell on my day and the fact that I was a killer.
I can't say for sure whether I had slept fitfully or not at all, but by two in the morning I decided that I had had enough staring at my ceiling for a night, and so I rose, intent on possibly burning off some of my energy. If I could force my body to sleep from sheer exhaustion, then at least I could sleep. Maybe these dark thoughts would leave my conscious mind alone in the light of day...if I could just get through the night.
Padding softly on the carpet of my bedroom, I slowly turned the doorknob until it was unlatched, and then creaked my door open. I started into my hallway when I heard a soft whimpering that stopped me in my tracks. I knew immediately that my father was plagued by his own dark thoughts. I could hear the soft sounds of a man weeping into his own pillow. Since the Simurgh and especially since my mother had been taken away, he was damaged goods. Most of the time he could pull himself together and face the world, but when something unexpected or stressful happened, especially something personal, he could spiral into some pretty dark mindsets and tendencies.
The worst that I could remember had been almost two years ago. The Simurgh had attacked a city in Wisconsin that was only two hours away, and I think something about the news footage he saw, or maybe her relative proximity had sent him into a fit that had lasted days. He wouldn't work; he wouldn't eat; He would barely shuffle himself to the restroom. Mostly, he sat on his bed, rocking back and fourth mumbling "No, not her. Not her." I had done what I could, but uncle Jason and aunt Rita had called a D.D.I.D. therapist that specialized in nervous episodes triggered by the Simurgh's influence and he had been hospitalized for over a week. They said the only times he would come out of his depression was when I would visit him.
I stood outside his doorway, debating on whether I should let him know I was up. I could probably go in there and calm him down, maybe even enough that he could fall asleep again...but I just didn't have it in me. My day had just been too full and hectic. I was emotionally drained and I couldn't do it. It took a toll on me every time I had to see him like that, every time I had to hold him and rub his hair like I was the parent and he was the child with a nightmare. I couldn't handle that today. Tonight, whatever.
I slowly made my way to the kitchen, still working to make as little sound as possible. Trying to do something to exhaust myself was pretty out of the question; I couldn't risk dad getting up and finding me missing. So I couldn't sneak out, but at least I could get a drink and maybe find something to relieve some of the pain of my burn. I got a glass from the cabinet and slowly filled it with water, wanting to ensure it didn't make much noise. Then, I got an ice-pack from the freezer and made my way back to my room. Although I was no longer thirsty and the ice pack mollified the worst of the pain, I laid awake for a long time more.
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The weekend had finally arrived. I had only two days left of school and the burns I had received the previous Tuesday had gone from fairly painful to extremely itchy, especially when I did anything to make myself sweat. Honestly, I think I preferred the pain. I had still not managed to convince myself to talk to dad about my powers, but I had resolved to do it this afternoon after I got back from the hardware store with uncle Jason, who had promised to take me there on a shopping trip to pick up tools and other supplies I had thought of that could be useful to carry around at all times.
Living in an apartment didn't really lend itself to having a large tool selection that I could pilfer from. In fact, the only tools I knew about were in a "toolbox" in name only: it was about as thin as a thick book, and its other dimensions were about the same as the screen for my dad's desktop computer. It had various tools a person might need for whatever situation like a hammer, a wrench and socket set, and probably some pliers or something. I hadn't bothered to look in there because each tool had an designated spot in the hard plastic where it fit. There was no way I could get away with bagging some of those and pretending that we just didn't have them or that they were just lost.
I was a bit surprised and more than a little touched that uncle Jason was willing to do this with his own money, but he had mentioned that once I was in the Wards he would just start siphoning off my trust to pay for it. He was kidding. I think. As we pulled into the large store's parking lot, uncle Jason pushed the lock button on the car door, presumably to make sure that I stayed and heard what he had to say. "Lily, these tools will be for getting you out of difficult situations and to help protect you if you get into trouble. If I find out that you went looking for trouble like you did on Tuesday then I'm taking them all back. Understand?"
I nodded, but then decided that a verbal affirmation was probably better. "Yeah." And I did. It made sense because I had almost died. By all rights, I probably should have died. I was lucky that making Voltaic's armor disappear had worked, I was lucky that he didn't have any under-armor, lucky that I had hit one of the few spots on a person's back that could render them unable to react. So yeah, it made sense. The Wards were supposed to stay out of dangerous situations, and they got the armor, equipment, and training to handle the dangerous situations they were supposed to be avoiding. I currently had none of that, but when I became a Ward myself his stipulations would probably be moot anyway, since he knew I couldn't very easily do anything contrary to my orders just to uphold his stipulations. "Thanks, Unk." I said.
It seemed like he was never very fond of my nickname for him (if you could even call it that), but he had never really told me to stop, so I was set on using it until he did. I didn't want to waste too much money, so I was planning on just getting the most useful of items, or items that would be somewhat useful in the most situations. The one thing I was still undecided about was a multi-tool. Sure, they had a lot of usefulness for the price, but every item on it was inferior to a full-sized version of the same item, and it's not like I was hurting for space.
Hearing the doors click to unlocked, I levered open my door and we made our way inside the hardware store. I quickly realized that Saturday morning was not a great time to go to a hardware store. At first I thought there must have been a special deal or a limited offer for how many people there were, but when I asked uncle Jason, he just said that that's how hardware stores are on Saturday, especially in the early summer.
I quickly decided against the multi-tool when I saw how comparatively affordable the tool sets like my dad had at home were. Sure, I didn't need the case, but all the tools seemed good enough that they wouldn't fall apart. Looking over my options, and what each piece seemed to cost individually, I eventually decided on one of the smaller sets, only 39 pieces. And the fact that it came in pink had absolutely nothing to do with my decision. The tool set came with a hammer, pliers, scissors, a tape measure, a nice hex-head screwdriver chassis that I could put one of several common (and some uncommon) heads onto, a box-cutter razor, a tape measure, an Alan-wrench set, and a few smaller screwdrivers that looked like they must be more for something like watches or other delicate electronics than normal screw-driving needs.
In addition to what came in the box, we bought several other things, including a handful of self-setting screws, some nails (two sizes!), a roll of stainless-steel wire, a roll of twine, an LED flashlight, a nylon rope, a cigarette lighter, a ratchet and socket set, and several steel ball-bearings. Most of the stuff was pulling from a general idea of "be prepared." Even though I was trying not to buy larger ticket items, the shopping trip still ended up costing more than I thought it would, and I was getting ready to put some of it back when uncle Jason quieted my protests and stoically paid for it with a credit card.
When we were back in the car I wanted to go right to absorbing all my spoils-of-war (if you would have been in that store, you would have called it war too), but he insisted we wait until we get inside somewhere private so that we could be sure that nobody would notice. Even though it was the sensible thing to do, I still made faces at him for it for half the trip home. He deserved it.
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Well, what do you think of Lily getting geared up? Anything she needs that I left out? Let me know how I'm doing in a review!
