Save Me In Time

As the cool heat of the liquid hit my lips, I replay events that continuously flash through my mind. My body barely ached, as a matter of fact, it never does. But I’m constantly putting it through the ringer day in and day out, giving myself this impression that I’m never truly present, a notion that leaves me feeling like I’m always on the run, always on the move. I get so mentally exhausted and run down by these thoughts. But I know it’s no use feeling this way, especially when I’m the only one in my city who can save it. Slamming a guy here, choking another guy there, throwing a car half a football field away from a small child. All of this to just hide away when it’s all over. I whine incessantly, but I know this is the way it has to be. The safest way is for me to coexist with the people who don’t know me, because I’ve seen what happens to those who save others. The one time you let them down they never forget it, and they never forget you for it. It turns into a love-hate relationship, and not one that is back and forth, no. It’s one where half of them love you, and understand, but the other half? You can never make things right again. Never.

I remember a conversation that I was having with… her name doesn’t matter, I just remember her, and I remember our conversation so vividly. “You can’t save everyone. Sometimes, you just have to save the one person that matters most, yourself. Please try to remember that the next time you start getting down on yourself, okay?” I remember nodding, but I couldn’t stop beating myself up about the incident that changed my life, and a family’s lives forever.

I also remember the family, the rants, the disappointment, the yelling, and screaming on top of the cries. I remember the blood soaked pavement, the arm still outstretched as if reaching for a savior. The arm attached to the broken body. When the body hit the ground, it was like watching a mannequin break but the body still held together by…flesh.

“You could’ve caught her, you could’ve saved her!”

“You’re no hero!”

“Fuck you!!”

“If you’re listening out there, where ever you are, you’re no hero,” said the most popular talk show host in the country on her primetime morning show the next day. Her face was a sneer, full on anger searing through the tv screen. Her eyes were glazed with fresh tears, but her hatred seemed more real than the tears. “You’re just some person with abilities, abilities you barely use. And for all these ‘powers’ you possess, you couldn’t be where you were counted the most to be. You. Are. No. Hero. I hope you heard me, and heard me clearly.”

I couldn’t say she was wrong. I couldn’t say she was right. Her cameramen and producers, writers, and the rest of her staff damn sure weren’t going to tell her any different. Who was I to say differently? I listened. I watched her show that day, and I let her defiant words hit me where it meant to. It pierced more than any bullet, it cut more than any knife to me hearing her say those things, seeing the look in her eyes. She wasn’t the main reason I decided they didn’t need me around as much anymore. I made the decision all on my own, all because of that crumpled mass of human that laid on that pavement.

I still helped. Help. I still let the human in me continue doing the best I can with what was given to me through some miracle, or phenomenon. I still enjoyed making sure some old lady wasn’t mugged by some punks, took them down and made sure she got her bag back. I still enjoyed making sure kids weren’t harmed by an accident, and I made sure to steal myself away as well, back into the shadows as soon as my good deed was accomplished. It was all I could do to ensure that I wasn’t on the news or the internet anymore. If the would be victim wanted to talk, they could, but I didn’t want to stick around for that. I retreated back to my hideout, and I made sure no one knew where I lived. That as well was important to me. I, too, needed a safe haven, and my apartment was it. Far away and on the outskirts of the city where no one who knew me personally would come looking is where I choose to be. It was safer for everyone that way.

Most nights, I drink. I drink to forget, but always end up remembering, sulking. I become a lump of wallowing. I do this even when I’ve had a good night, even when someone is no longer being hurt. I make sure they’re safe, but inside I know I’m just going to die a little as soon as I get comfortable and alone.

I drink to forget. But she always visits me. She smiles, and I stop crying for that brief moment. She comforts me with her words and bright smile. “Hey big guy, what you crying for?”

“I miss you,” I whimper, tears spilling down my chin.

She walks over to me, her smile warming me down to my toes. She touches my shoulder and leans down in front of me, her hand resting on my shoulder, and her other hand casually caressing my hand that held the bottle of Irish whiskey. “I’m always with you, you know that. I haven’t gone anywhere. Remember what I told you?”

I nod. “How can I forget?”

She sighed, pressing her cheek on mine, and she felt so much like home, so real. “Even the strong need a break, need a moment. And you feel. You have to remember that you’re human, too, just different. You can’t save everyone. Sometimes, you just have to save the one person that matters most, yourself. Please try to remember that when you’re sitting here, drinking this poison, okay?”

What she said, what I remember her saying, breaks me down. The tears stream down my face, hiccups became uncontrollable. “B-but you m-m-mattered most to me! YOU! And I couldn’t…I-I couldn’t s-s-s-save you!!”

The chair barely held me as I shook with pitiful sobs. She leaned back to look me in my face as her smile began to waver, then vanished as blood poured down her face. In complete horror, I pushed away from the vision, bottle falling from my hand as I stood up abruptly. “Amina, AMINA!! NO!” Then off in the distance, I could hear a menacing chorus of laughter. I balled up my fists, rage filling me up more and more with every second that passed. That laugh that kept feeding my hate, fueling my need to keep fighting on the good side as long as I could. That laugh that stole my Amina from me, and the laugh that I was going to find and choke the life out of.