When they met, the first thing he noticed was the metal cuffs around both her wrists. The second thing he noticed was her energetic personality. He saw her from a few feet away. That’s when he saw the cuffs. His friend was talking to her. He went over to say hi. He was introduced to her, and her to him. That’s when he noticed her personality. She was bright in a way that felt off. It’s wasn’t happiness so much as energy all the time. She was witty, making jokes a lot throughout the conversation. She also said things she shouldn’t, he came to find out over the course of their time together. But she was otherwise nice, cool, fun, and hey, she was pretty and it didn’t hurt.
“I have to go, but I’ll catch up with you later.” They waved goodbye to her. He noticed the cuffs again.
A few days later, he was back. He was supposed to be filing papers away, getting coffees, and canceling meetings, but he would rather talk to the weird girl he met. So he did. And they talked. It was nice.
Then, his friend, the one that introduced them, invited them both to hang out. They both came. They exchanged numbers at some point during that time, and then they talked for a while. He considered them to be officially friends. He liked her.
Something is wrong. She’s way too quiet, which would be quiet at all. She was always talking. But not now. He didn’t know if he should say anything, so he didn’t. He asked around, but no one knew what was up, but everyone had noticed.
He found her messing with the cuffs around her wrists a month later. “What are you doing?”
“Making them stronger.” She was quiet when she said it. It sounded wrong. He said okay. He sat down, but he let her stay quiet.
That’s when he learned what they were. Inhibitors. For her sake, and the sake of everyone around her. She was powerful, far too powerful for her own good. She wore those cuffs to protect herself and others. She put the super into super power.
She was excited that day. Not about anything. Just in her way. They got to talking. He learned something about her. A lot of things, actually. He learned she had doubt, she had fear, she had pain, she had darkness. And she hid all that in her bright smile and impulsivity.
He found her sitting in her car. She let him in. She was quiet. That’s when he noticed the tears. He got scared. What was he supposed to do? How should he handle this? He asked what was wrong. She shrugged.
“Can I stay here with you?”
She nodded. She cried. Her body was too warm and the air was too cold. She cried harder. “It’s just, so much. Just so much. I can’t…” He remained silent. She cried harder, the air got colder.
She lost it.
She pounded her wrists on the steering wheel, screaming. Hot tears rolled down her face. He looked at her, unable to help.
“I didn’t ask for this,” a sob cutting through her voice, breaking up the sentence. “For these-these things.” She shook her arms around, referring to the cuffs around her wrists.
He reached out to touch her arm, but she jerked away causing her arms to twitch and shake for a few moments. “Just-just give me a second.” She pleaded.
Her breath caught as she took a deep breath, tears still falling down her cheeks, trailing to her neck. A shudder traveled down her back. Her arm jerked again, pressing into the horn of the car.
In the quietest voice, she murmured, “I’m sorry.”
He felt a tug at his heart. What could he do? He had no idea what it was like to be her, to live like her, to see the world the way she did. How could he help?
After a substantial stretch of silence, he slowly turned to face her better, reaching his hand out cautiously so she didn’t startle. “Can I please take a look?”
She shook her head at first. He prompted once more. She hesitated, but finally relented, surrendering her arms for inspection. He moved the cuffs out of the way, revealing raw, tourchered skin. Red, purple, blue. He knew she wouldn’t take them off. He had to work around them. He reached into the back seat, feeling around for the sparse first aid kit. She sniffled with the occasional hitch in her inhale, or a shaker exhale. Her eyes were red, naturally. He forced himself to help her with this one thing, and not to think about the rest of it right then. He could only do this, so he’d do it right and work from there.
Silent tears slowly, gently rolled down her face.
Once he finished, she plopped her hands into her lap, letting them sit there, limp. Her eyes stung. She blinked in an effort to soothe them, but to no avail. She was so tired, but she didn’t want to go to sleep. She had to stay awake. She had to keep going. She had to control herself. Control. Something she always had so little control of. Herself.
That’s when he noticed her fighting. He told her to lie back. To rest.
“No.” She said. “I don’t want to fall asleep.”
“Then don’t close your eyes. Just be still.”
She obliged. She fell asleep anyway.
He didn’t see her like that again for a while. She smiled again after a few days. She went to sleep. She did things. She was good.
They sat down. They talked again. She told him that she doesn’t know what happy feels like anymore. She says she thought she knew years ago.
“Tenth grade,” she says, “I knew happiness for the first time for three months in tenth grade. And then it was all gone.”
I asked her what happened. She says she’s not sure. It was either her fault or ‘his’, whoever ‘he’ was. She wouldn’t give him a name. Just ‘he’. ‘He’ said. ‘He’ did. ‘He’. Apparently, she really liked him, maybe a little too much, but nothing bad. Just overbearing. He understood why that may be. He had met her. He felt she was too close, freaked out and told her to leave him alone, like she was crazy. Sounded more like ‘he’ was the crazy one.
As much as she hated that ‘he’ affected her, ‘he’ did.
“I feel…crazy for letting it bother me after all this time. I just got to thinking that all I had worked for was for nothing, that I hadn’t gotten better, and that I was exactly where I started. He undid all of my progress in that one moment. And maybe it’s on me—maybe I’m crazy—for letting it undo all of my hard work.”
They went inside. He left for the night. That’s the last time he saw her.
A few weeks later they found her. She’d been kidnapped by a big-time crime organization. They took off her cuffs. She had a panic attack and without the cuffs to neutralize her power, she blew the place up, bad guys and all. The only thing left was her, untouched, but gone.
He was the last one to see her before she was kidnapped. He felt guilty. If he had talked with her a little longer. If he had gone home later. If he had walked her to her car. If he had called her like he wanted to that night. If, if, if. But didn’t.
The air was cold that day. That’s when he noticed the world was greyer, the sun dimmer, colors duller. He saw a shift in everyone he met. It’s like everyone knew something was missing. And there was. She was. And it just wasn’t the same.
