The Last Superhero (17 page)

Insert heavy pause here.

“
She
spent some time in the hospital because of a previous condition that
was rekindled by the accident. I went to see her and she looked so
fragile, so pale, yet her eyes were so full of life. It made me
suddenly aware that there was still some life inside me too since, at
that point, I had practically given up on everything and everyone.”

“
Did
she know who you were?”

“
I
revealed my true identity to her and it didn't deter her from
contacting me. Soon enough, we were too involved to deny our mutual
attraction. The first time I tapped into her mind and saw her dreams,
her desires, I learned how much she'd suffered in life and that all
she wanted was someone she could pour her love into. She knew who I
was, who Salvatore Jr. was, and still she was willing to make me the
object of her affections. It was troubling; I didn't want anything to
do with anyone, but she managed to crack the walls I'd constructed to
keep humanity away. Thing was, right after we moved in together, she
fell even more ill and the doctors had no idea what was wrong with
her. Then she'd spend some time in the hospital and get better, only
to get ill again once she was back with me. It was horrible. I felt
so impotent, so incapable. It wasn't until it was too late when she
told me about the nightmares and I was so angry and, at the same
time, so worried about her. Her already weak heart couldn't take it.”

A long, loud, languid,
lingering sigh. Hazel eyes turn to me with such fear I can't deny.

“
I
can't lose you, Giana. I can't lose you like I lost her.”

Oh fuck.

“
Steven,
what did she do in your nightmares? Didn't you see her? You've seen
me
.”

His eyebrows ride up. “I
don't know, Giana. I can't tell if I saw her or not. I don't usually
see faces, only blurred features.”

“
Usually?”

“
You
I see clearly. Somehow I know it's you I must attack, even when the
images aren't clear enough for me to tell what it is I'm doing.”

“
Did
you see Michelangelo take flight?”

Consternation. “What?!
You saw him?”

“
The
statue, it came to life at the start of the nightmare.”

“
Did
he talk to you? Did he...” Voice breaks, stutters. “Did
you touch him?”

“
I-I
wanted to. Don't know why, but there was this magnetic thing that
made me feel like I'd die if I didn't touch him. Then he started
flapping his wings and the whole house was destroyed and then it was
you.” Wait. “I did get to touch you, though, and it
burned.”

“
I
remember feeling something burning me.”

“
I
grabbed you. After I tried to kick you in the face and you caught my
ankle and it burned your hand.”

The creases in his face are
turning deeper with every word I say, every detail I tell.

His eyes turn towards the
photo still in his hand. “I remember feeling this immense
fear.”

“
Well,
you got pretty scared when I told you that it wasn't you, that it was
your Id, and I don't know where I got the idea of telling you to take
the mask off, but it seemed to rub you the wrong way.”

“
My
Id?”

“
Freud.”

“
Huh.”

“
It's
repressed while you're conscious because it lies in the unconscious.
Yours seems to use your nightmares as an escape. It controls them and
goes even further, using your power to project itself into other's
brains. When you're unconscious, your Ego and Superego aren’t
there to control your Id, but when someone else's get in its way, it
knows.”

Now he's looking at me like
I'm some sort of apparition.

“
Pray
tell how you came up with this conclusion.”

“
Rereading
some stuff. Come on, makes sense, both times I knew I was inside a
nightmare. This time I wasn't even asleep and kept telling myself
that I could control it, and it worked. I ran and jumped and even
sent you a flying kick that I would never be able to do in real
life.”

Awesome, I know.

Not for him, though. Not
awesome at all.

“
I
hurt you.”

“
You
stuck a knife between my breasts.” Nonchalant tone.

Agitated face. “WHAT?”

“
Steven,
hear me out. You reckoned you were dealing with someone that could
hurt you, hence the fear you felt. That man in your dreams isn't you
and my presence affects him in a way that he can't predict, he can't
deal with it.”

“
I
stuck a knife in your chest!”

“
No.
You didn't. Nightmare Salvatore Jr. did. Threw it at me, got stuck
halfway, then when I told him I loved him he pushed it all the way
in.”

He gives an exasperated leap
to his feet, the photo still clutched in his hand. Blink, blink,
blink. Blink back tears. Blink back thoughts. Blink back the pain
getting hold of you.

“
This
can't happen again.” He puts the photo away, kneels at my feet,
takes my hands in his. “I love you and that is the reason why I
can't let you near me when I'm asleep, Giana. Or you'll end up being
another victim of my personal hell. I. Can't. Lose. You. I won't be
able to live with myself if I do.”

Free one of my hands and run
it through his hair as he lowers his head to my lap and his hands
slither up my thighs, my waist, my back, and I double over this man
who has morphed into nothing more than a quivering mass.

Hear him cry, hear him come
undone at the thought of never having you again.

And you feel sorry and want
to cry but also determined on finding that thing you need to find.

A way to make all this
sorrow be nothing but The Past.

17

Poking Steven for more
information proves to be a pain in the ass, but I do get a bit more
out of him.

That while brewing him a
strong cup of coffee and handing him some aspirins for the hangover.

Not that he has much of that
anymore – the nightmare shook him good.

However, he does cough up
more details about Genevieve's involvement in them, which were
reduced to her watching as he wreaked havoc around her and then
getting hit by whatever thing he was doing. For the most part, she
couldn't move or speak or do anything at all.

By the look on Steven's
face, it's apparent he loved the woman and still can't shed the guilt
he feels about her death.

One can't be angry or
jealous of a dead person. Come on, that's... and... well, it's
evident that he feels strongly about me by the way he's imploring me
to give up on trying to help him.

'Feels strongly.' That
sounds so polite and so not strong.

He did say he loved me.

Oh, right, he was drunk.

But Nightmare Salvatore Jr.
was rather affected when he heard me say that.

Hmmm.

Agh. This is not the time to
start a hissy fit.

“
I
won't let you.” He's pushing down the book I've got my nose
buried in and I don't like it when people do that; it's rude.

Soft lips kiss my frown
away.

Not falling for that. Frown
those motherfuckers tight, gurl.

“
Let
me finish this chapter.” Push the book back to my face and
block him out of view.

I can hear him pacing around
the library. I can smell him after he's taken a long bath and changed
into some comfortable clothes. I can see him looking out the window,
drowning in his own thoughts.

And I take my time spying on
him over the book I'm holding, something akin to happiness enveloping
me. That something that tells me I'm foolish enough to try and fight
against those demons hidden behind his eyes.

His chest moves to the slow
rhythm of his breathing, his hands hidden in the pockets of his plaid
pajama pants and I'm a man under Medusa's stare.

That until my phone sings
and he sends a raised eyebrow my way.

Simon.

Mark the page, leave the
seat, put the book down on it.

“
Hey.”

“
Hey.
Are you busy? Can we talk?”

I shoot Steven a glance and
he dismisses me with the wave of a hand.

“
Yeah.”

“
Wait
then. I'm putting Richard through.”

“
Dad?”
The question is blurted while I'm standing at the threshold and it
reaches Steven, who quickly strides to my side.

“
Giana,
baby. How are you? Where are you?” The friendly voice travels
through the line like a warm hand caressing my ear.

“
Not
okay.” I step out of the library and Steven stays by the door.
“What's going on?”

“
Your
mother's being hospitalized as we speak.”

“
What?!
We just had lunch some hours ago! Where is she?”

“
I'm
with her,” Simon cuts through. “She's okay.”

“
I'm
her daughter! I should be there. And, Dad, how is it you know about
this when you're miles away?”

“
Giana,
please,” Dad pleads. “Calm down and let me talk.”

Steven's waiting, silent,
expecting but not daring to interrupt.

“
Her
condition has worsened to the point I suggested hospitalization,
which she didn't want to do here in Madrid and asked me to give her a
couple of days to get back to you and then go about it when she felt
better. She's currently doing the necessary paperwork to be admitted
tonight.”

“
And
what do you have to do with all this, Simon?”

I hear him take a breath
through the line.

Dad's quick to reply. “You
realize you and your mother's insurance won't cover all the costs...”

“
Oh,
don't give me that!”

“
Giana!
Would you please behave? I didn't expect her to make this decision so
soon, so bear with me on this one.”

A hand touches my arm and I
give a jolt.

Steven's standing beside me
in the corridor.

Not that I'm registering
where I'm at, though.

“
How
long will she be there?”

“
I
don't know. I have no idea, Giana. Her pulmonary function is
compromised to a point where it's become more than worrisome.”

Why is everything growing
taller all of a sudden? Did I pick the wrong bottle to drink?

No. It appears I've just hit
the floor in an ungraceful manner.

“
What
are you saying, Dad? What is it you are really saying?”

I'm
sitting
on my butt, my back to the wall, concerned Steven hovering above.

“
Only
God knows what I'm talking about, Giana. The thing is that I need you
to stay calm and focused and to keep doing whatever it is you're
doing. And, above all, don't reproach her about her decision.”

“
What
the fuck? You know better than anyone that her judgment has never
been trustworthy.”

“
It
never has, but this isn't the time to reproach her about it.”