Lovesick

Abel

PROLOGUE

I never wanted to fly.

It was never something I thought of whenever someone asked that stupid ass question about superpowers. You know the one.

“If you could have any superpower…”

The first thing that always popped into my mind was strength. I wanted to be the strongest man in the world. So I could hit my dad back when he knocked me around when I was too young to defend myself. So I could fight mami off when she got into too much liquor and wanted to fuck me up a little.

Or a lot.

Next, I’d want to be invisible. So I could walk into stores and take what I want. So I could take care of myself so the hunger pangs didn’t keep me up like they did most nights. So mami couldn’t get pissed that I came out looking more like her than my dad, making it easier for him to claim I wasn’t his. So I could live at my dad’s house without him ever even knowing I’m there.

Like the secret he kept me as all along, hiding my existence from even his parents. I’d haunt his halls, just so I could feel a little bit of the love he gives his real familia .

But flying? Never.

So how I ended up on the ledge of a twenty-second story window is something I’ll never understand.

I could hear mami now, her voice raspy from chain-smoking and screaming at me all damn day.

Do it. You’re already here, idiota. Everyone’s watching you now, pendejito .

But I never wanted to fly, mami .

And I never wanted so many fucking eyes on me.

There are TV crews and cops and fire trucks, and I feel like something just snapped me back into consciousness, with the world staring up at me while my toes hang dangerously over the ledge. The wind is different up here, more violent, threatening to push me over. And I’m scared as fuck.

“Don’t worry, son. We’ll get you the help you need,” someone is yelling from the window beside me.

Son . The one word no one calls me anymore.

But he doesn’t know that I don’t need any fucking help.

I just need to get my ass down from this fucking window.

And maybe a joint.