"Hi, Mom," I greeted, shifting my body to hide the box of Ding-dongs behind my back. The last thing I needed was my mom giving me a lecture on the importance of eating healthy.
If my mom had seen the box of Ding-dongs in my hands, she shockingly chose to ignore it, sliding her mask off and heaving a deep sigh as she limped into the living room and plopped down on the leather couch. My mom was normally not known for making dramatic entrances, and I raised my eyebrows in surprise as I examined her.
She looked terrible. Dark bruises blossomed under her bloodshot eyes, her hair was disheveled, and her pristine suit was torn, wrinkled and covered in broken glass and rubble. Various cuts and gashes covered her body but I noticed a particularly deep gash on her thigh, wispy black tendrils trickling out of the jagged wound. She must have gotten into an intense battle with a Reigner. My mom was exceptional when it came to hand-to-hand combat and she normally battled Reigners, but she had never come home looking like this before.
"Mommy! Mommy!" Chelsea dove into her lap headfirst, bouncing up and down. "I'm hungry!" Normally, my mom would have grinned and replied with, "I didn't know your name was hungry!"
Instead, my mom ignored Chelsea and immediately drifted her sluggish gaze to Fahrenheit, who stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, staring intently at an abstract portrait on the wall as if he had just noticed it. "Brewster? Don't tell me you have more bad news." Her face seemed to pale, as if she had seen a ghost.
Fahrenheit stuttered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "N—no. I just wanted to make sure Nicole got home safely."
Bad news? What was she talking about?
"What are we eating?" Chelsea demanded. "I'm starving!"
"Well...I'm afraid we're having leftovers," My mom admitted, lowering her voice at the dreaded word and turning to Fahrenheit. "If Nicole invited you, I suppose you can stay for supper."
"Bleh! I don't want leftovers!" Chelsea whined, kicking against my mom's shins. "I want pancakes!"
"Not tonight, Chelsea." My mom's voice cracked from exhaustion.
"Wahhhhhh! I want pancakes!" Chelsea slid off her lap and wallowed on the ground, kicking and beating with her fists. My mom scooped her up and limped to her bedroom, Chelsea now sobbing.
Lovely. My mom was getting tears and snot all over her suit.
I turned sheepishly to Fahrenheit. "Welcome to the Fletcher household, where we rush Chelsea to the doctor when she goes a day without throwing a temper tantrum."
Fahrenheit let out a nervous, strained laugh. "Maybe I should go."
"No." I replied, surprised at my firmness. "We had a deal." I paused hesitantly, shrugging. "Although I already broke the deal because I told you we'd be having lasagna."
Fahrenheit began pacing the living room, hands clasped behind his back. As soon as my mom showed up, his whole demeanor changed. On top of that, my mom had entered the room sporting serious wounds I had never seen on her before.
Strange.
I took a deep breath and blurted, "What was my mom talking about?"
Fahrenheit paused his pacing and stiffened, his back as rigid as a board. "I don't think I should be the one to break it to you."
"Break what to me? Is something wrong? Does it involve me?" My mind began racing as I thought of worse-case scenarios.
"I can't tell you," Fahrenheit insisted. "Your mother should be the one to tell you."
YOU ARE READING
Unmasking the Nightmare
Science FictionSuperheroes and supervillains. That's what they were in the beginning. Until they matured and the superheroes became the Elites and the supervillains became the Reigners. Now things are much more complicated. Nicole Fletcher, daughter of a famed Eli...
