The Last Superhero by Astrid 'Artistikem' Cruz Page B

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