Long Past Dawn

I think back to when I would just see the heroes on the news, wondering if I could ever be like them. Now I am, and I hate it. I open my mouth and say two words, that might just be the start of this story, or maybe it's the end. "I'm ready."

Batman nods, no one says a word as we walk out of the warehouse, outside are three black cars.

I watch from the passenger seat of the first car as the scenery outside changes from the city to suburb and finally into open fields. After about an hour we pull into a grassy meadow, wildflowers seem to sprout in every available corner of the meadow, in the very center of the meadow is a large beech tree, its trunk is worn with time and I can only imagine how long it's stood there for.

I open the car door and step out, the grass comes up past my knees, like a sea trying to drown me. I walk over to the large tree, its leaves cast a jade glow on the ground as the sunlight dances through them. It's beautiful.

At the base of the tree is a hole, six feet deep. I know what's at the bottom before I can see it. A coffin sits at the bottom, it fits in perfectly, as if the hole was made for it, or it was made for the hole. A large mound of dirt sits next to the hole, and next to that is a shovel.

I swallow back the lump in my throat, everyone is gathered behind me. They say nothing but I know what they're thinking. "Can I be alone?"

I just face straight ahead as the question leaves my mouth, I don't want them to see the tears forming in my eyes, or the anger in my eyes. I hear them turn to leave as the grass sways. I close my eyes as the cool breeze makes my hair dance in the wind.

I open them again before I go to pick up the shovel. My hand shakes as I shovel in the first scoop of dirt.

My heart pounds in my c.h.e.s.t. My legs feel like jelly, my breath comes out short and raspy. It feels like I could pass out at any moment. But I dig my nails deeper into the wood of the shovel. I. Have. To. Do. This.

With each shovel full of dirt a memory comes to mind of Jikan. Her smiling, her laughter, her tears, her dead body, her wings, her face when I couldn't protect her. I don't hold back the tears anymore, they rush freely down my cheeks as my shoulders shake from more than grief.

With every shovel full of Earth a small bit of me is buried with her. With every shovel full of dirt a memory of the fake mother I came up with is buried with me and Jikan.

By the time the grave is full the tears are gone and I'm trembling with anger, I didn't just bury Jikan and the past years of my life. I buried the person I used to be. And the person I am now is out for blood, for revenge, for Jikan, for the innocence I won't get back, for the little girl I can never go back to being, and to protect every other kid so they don't have to turn out the way I will.

I turn around, leaving the beech tree and the fresh grave behind me. A silent promise on my lips. I will avenge you Jikan.

In front of me are Wonderwoman and Black Canary, the others stand further behind them. I don't even pause as I shoulder on past Black Canary and Wonderwoman, but after I pass them I can tell they're following me. I get to the first of the black cars and kick the tire as hard as I can. No one says a word but they don't have to.

We get into the cars again and if the first car ride was suffocating then this one could kill, no one says a word as we drive back into the city. Away from Jikan and away from the me that I buried with her.

By the time we get back to the warehouse, four perfect ovals are bleeding in my palms from me driving my nails into my hand, in a vain attempt to numb the pain.

Which is worse? I ponder to myself, emotional pain or physical? I scoff at myself, quiet the philosopher, aren't I? I breathe in the New York air, a chill has crept into the air and just from that I can tell winter is just around the corner. I breathe out and it turns into a cloud of smoke in front of me. Quiet the spectacle when you think about it.

I look ahead of me at the warehouse, grey cement that looks like any of the others in the area but somehow it feels different, I don't know how to describe it, it pushes you away and pulls you in at the same time. I shiver as the wind passe over me, it feels as if it's not just passing over me but through me, taking the last of my warmth with it.

For a moment I hesitate, a small part of me not wanting to step forward into this world, a part of me that still thinks I can go back. I snuff it out like a candle flame and I step forward into the warehouse, ready for anything and everything.

With every step, I grow lighter until I realize what weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I'm not afraid to die anymore. I've lost enough that I don't mind dying anymore. It's a strange feeling, knowing that I'm able to accept the fact that I'm ready without even a shrug.

But until then, I'll fight. I'll fight for Jikan and those who can't. I'll fight against not only the villains that superheroes fight. I'll fight so I'm the only one who has to know this pain. I'll fight because it's time for me to stop running. I'm ready to die and I'm ready to fight.