CHAPTER 8
Sparks
What was it all for? What was any of it for? The suffering, the heartbreak, the loss. Was it all for nothing?
I killed Jack. Raised my pistol and fired. I felt his blood smear on my cheek. He raped me, abused me, tortured me, but when I killed him, I felt nothing. No, worse than that, I grieved. All of this training, fighting to become stronger. It’s all a lie. I’m still weak and broken.
And Astrid. I fall to my knees overwhelmed by the pain crashing into my body from all directions.
I lost what felt like the love of my life, and for what?
I spent my entire life trying to destroy those responsible for Synergy Labs, needing to prevent another tragedy.
I was willing to give that up for her. Truly, I was.
To let my mother’s memory die and allow myself to dive into a childish crush.
I know now that’s all that it was. Fleeting infatuation between two incompatible people.
Then I got dragged back into the whole Synergy mess, but it was okay, because I could keep her safe.
I’ve learned since then that I was the only one who survived the Synergy Labs explosion.
Jack lied to me for years, telling me ghost stories about an organization that goes bump in the night, wanting to turn me into a weapon.
I don’t know what is true anymore, and I don’t want to find out.
I’m done with it. But for her to walk straight into the mess herself?
It’s a slap in the face to every sacrifice I’ve made.
I was done. I walked away from it all. Fuck duty and honor and love. It was time for me to put myself first. Exercise, healthy habits, a career, financial success. I feel so empty. The hole inside of me aches and threatens to drag me down into it. Haven’t I given enough?
I burst into the gym. Empty. Good. I lock the doors to keep it that way. I find the nearest punching bag. Fuck the gloves, fuck the hand wraps. I throw the hardest punch I can. I feel the impact from my wrist to my shoulder. The agony is brutal, but it doesn’t drown out the anguish from my trauma.
I punch again.
Again.
Left. Right. Left. Right.
It’s too much. I can’t take it anymore.
I collapse on the ground. All I want to do is scream, to yell and shout and wail, but no sound comes out. I want to throw a tantrum and bang on the floor and kick the walls. Instead, I curl into a ball as silent tears rack my body.
I miss my life before. I miss the coffee shop, ice skating, dancing in the living room. I miss a warm bed at night, a tender hand soothing an injury, a voice calming my fears. I miss her.
What was it all for? I don’t have a clue.
Once all of my pieces have been carefully taped back together, I walk back into the interrogation room, a slice of watermelon in hand. I find my chair on the ground and sit across from Astrid, painfully aware of how closely she watches my movements. I truly didn’t mean to scare her.
“Are you thirsty?” I ask, extending a proverbial olive branch. She stares suspiciously as I extend the watermelon.
“This isn’t water,” Astrid states.
“I’m not stupid,” I reply. She begrudgingly takes a bite of the watermelon.
“Am I a prisoner here?” She asks delicately.
“No.” I shake my head and take a bite of the fruit for myself.
“Then can I leave?” She follows up.
“No.” I hold my finger up as I swallow. “Well, you can, but we’d have to drug you and find your car and it’s a whole thing.”
“I see.” It doesn’t sound like she does.
“We can’t have a known vigilante knowing where our base is,” I elaborate. “Bad for business.”
“Did you do something worth reporting?” She narrows her eyes at my knuckles, bruised from my earlier meltdown.
“Oh fuck off, Astrid.” I roll my eyes. “It is completely legal to beat up a punching bag.”
“You’re bleeding,” she states nonchalantly.
“What?” I glance at my hands. Bruised yes, bloody no. She juts her chin toward my shoulder, and a fresh trickle of blood has dribbled free of the gauze. I must have popped a stitch. Luca is going to kill me. I shrug. “So I am.”
“It is alarming how comfortable you are with being injured,” Astrid observes. I’m getting really tired of this conversation.
“Synergy Labs.” That got her attention. “You have two minutes, say whatever you want to say, then I’m leaving.”
No sooner have I finished my sentence than she is rambling at full speed.
“I got my powers the day the explosion happened. I began thinking that they were related so I decided to start digging. Then I put together all of the details you told me about your mom, and I think it’s safe to assume she died in the explosion.
Then I was like, duh, the explosion probably gave you your powers too! ”
I blink at the rapid amount of information she just threw my way. It’s startling to have someone recite my past back to me, especially due to how tightly I keep it under wraps. She doesn’t seem to notice my visceral reaction, continuing on with her saga.
“So then I was looking into what caused the explosion, and I think it was some kind of foul play! The scientists were planning on publishing data that would ruin the profitability of their research, thus ticking off the big wigs. Plus, Mimi said the spirits were angry and unsettled, which isn’t as likely with a standard accidental catastrophe. And you know how…”
She continues on with whatever point she has next.
I’m not listening. I stand and wander aimlessly around the room.
Is it possible that I’ve got this all wrong?
I thought my mom was developing a weapon, but it’s been so long, I don’t even know why I thought that.
And if she was murdered… that changes everything.
Does it though? I have no incentive to get involved. If anything, it would bring pressure down on my organization, which I’ve put so much time and effort into building into what it is today. I glance back at Astrid, apparently finished with her spiel, waiting for an answer.
“Please,” she begs. I don’t know what she’s asking, I stopped listening.
“How could I trust you?” I allow my vulnerability to show through the cracks of my shell.
“I’ve never done anything to intentionally hurt you.
” Astrid’s eyes are round and sincere. “The night I broke up with you, I made so many mistakes. If I had the chance, I would do everything differently. But I have always cared about you, and I still do. So much so that it is supremely bugging me that you’re not applying pressure to your cut.
You’re bleeding, Sparks. You need to take care of that. ”
“Promise me one thing.”
“Anything.”
“If all of this goes sideways, you can’t turn us into the cops.” I hold her gaze. “I can’t work with you if I’m constantly worried that you’ll learn something you shouldn’t.”
“Okay.” She nods. “Your crew gets immunity. I won’t touch them.”
I grab a knife from the floor and cut off her restraints. Astrid immediately grabs my arm and places her hand over the bandage.
“Fuck, Astrid,” I hiss through my teeth. “Could you warn me before you grab where I was just shot?”
“You were shot?!”
Oh boy. This is going to be exhausting.
After a quick stop in the med bay at her insistence, we go up to Astrid’s car to grab the box of “evidence” as she calls it. I think she’s being a bit overdramatic. I type my code into the keypad and set the box on my living room floor.
“Is this where you live?” She scans the room.
“Yeah.” I shrug. “This is my place, I guess.”
“It’s… nice.” Astrid is trying to be polite, but it doesn’t feel sincere. “Very crisp.”
“What’s wrong with it?” I look at the living room, suddenly defensive. Everything is in its place, the table is dusted.
“Nothing’s wrong,” she reassures me. I stare at her until she continues. “It’s just sterile. Cold. There isn’t anything here that makes the space a home.”
I pause, letting her words soak in. Nothing I hadn’t heard before. I shake my head and refocus.
“Grab whatever you want from the kitchen, water included.” I gesture accordingly. “Bathroom through there. I’ll be right back.”
I walk into my closet and grab a t-shirt and sweatpants. I come back to find Astrid munching on potato chips. I toss the clothes to her.
“Not sure if you wanted to change out of your clubbing outfit,” I suggest. “I mean, you look nice, just not super comfortable.”
“Thanks.” She blushes and steps inside the bathroom to change.
I notice she’s set out a notebook. I flip it open to the first page and scan through the chicken-scratch writing. Something about this feels familiar, but I can’t quite place it.
“Are you able to understand any of it?” Astrid peers over my shoulder. I’m startled by the familiar scent of her shampoo – peaches and honey. I didn’t realize how accustomed I grew to that smell until it wasn’t there anymore.
“Um, I guess I recognize some letters.” I point to a formula on the page. “‘K’ is kinetic energy, and ‘U’ is potential energy. But do I understand the notes as a whole? Not really. Maybe if you give me an hour with the textbooks I’ll have more.”
“That’s more than I understood.” Astrid plops onto the couch beside me. “Oh wait, your mom worked at Synergy Labs, right? I guessed that correctly?”
“She did, yeah.” I nod and look away, hoping to hide the lump in my throat.
“Did you ever meet any of her coworkers?” She asks. “I know it’s a long shot, but I found a series of letters and I’m trying to figure out who to deliver them to.”
“I went to the labs once, on the day of the explosion.” The memory is foggy, but I try to remember as much as I can.
“I was mad at her for something that’s so stupid in hindsight, so she took me to work with her to try and perk me up.
I don’t know why she thought that was a good idea because it was so boring to me.
But I did briefly meet some of her coworkers. ”