The True Hero

Used. Constantly being used. Every waking second is spent devising a way to break out of the cycle. Oh, how I hate that feeling of being drained, but always being asked to do more. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I dislike my job. That’s not it at all. It is almost satisfying to know my place in life. Helping people is what I live for. I know a lot of people don’t get to that point. But the lack of control. That is what I hate. I have no choices, no options, no way out. As hard as I try, I can’t do anything to stop it. 

Sudden movement jerks me from the battle I am constantly fighting. It plays inside my mind over and over as if on repeat. The feeling is indescribable. Bracing myself for the onslaught of questions waiting for me behind the door, I turn the handle. 

A wide grin is the first thing that I see when I walk into the room. I immediately smile back, not allowing it to reach my eyes.

“It’s nice to see you again Kelly. I only hope that next time it is under better circumstances.” The doctor speaks softly and slowly, as if trying to soothe an injured animal. The only reply I offer is a tight smile, which I’m sure looks about as real as most over-processed foods. I knit my fingers together anxiously, waiting for him to continue speaking.

“Well, would you be willing to describe to me what is going on?” He asks kindly.

“Umm…” I struggle for a moment to find the words, “I feel like I am at war with myself. Now, I understand that a lot of people feel this way, but for me it is different. Almost like it,” I pause gesturing at my head, “is trying to fight me.”

His eyes widen in understanding, but he doesn’t say anything to me. I continue, “Every time I do anything with,” I gesture at my head again, “something forces me to do something else.”

He nods again, this time half paying attention as he jots notes on a pad. 

This job isn’t all bad, I know that I am not making that clear. The relief filling their eyes with tears always helps. It reminds me why I don’t fight it. Why I am not supposed to want or need anything besides the satisfaction of getting the job done. In my mind, I smile so wide that my nose crinkles. 

There are certain things that I love about what I do. For example, I love knowing that with each person I save, I save someone who is loved. I get to protect not only one person but their entire family from tragedy. They are spared the pain. They get to stay together. That is probably one of the most important things I could wish for. 

A strange feeling races through me. Almost like adrenaline, but with more force. It rips through my being and forces me to release all the energy I have been holding back. 

Power surges to my fingertips and I have to fight the urge to start laughing. It bubbles in my chest, and I cannot restrain it any longer. The sound of joy leaps through my lips, even as I crave more. The small metal bars the doctor is holding drops to the ground and I remember the sharp crackle of electricity. 

But something resists again. As quickly as the power flooded in, it is gone. My nails bite into my palms, hoping that something will change back. Nothing happens.

I collapse into the chair beside me. My fingers work through the knots in my hair as I look at the doctor desperately. Anger drips steadily into me like an IV. It fills me up. Frustration digs into me and refuses to let go. 

The doctor only looks at me curiously. He meets my eyes unwaveringly. I stare back, my face pulled into a scowl.

“You said this would work! You said that if anything would work, this would. I don’t know if you are seeing something else, but it is not back! If nothing else, you made it worse!” He bares his teeth. It takes me a moment to realize that this is another one of his smiles. 

            My grip tightens on the energy. Every part of me throbs with the remainder of the shock, but I force my head to clear. I force myself to get my thoughts in order and brace myself for the next charge. I know that it is coming. I try to imagine forming a protective bubble around myself, but I know that it won’t change anything. I know that no matter how hard I try to help others; I cannot save myself.

            This is why I need things to change. To escape the constant fear. To free myself. To help others. Or maybe all three.

The shock zings through my skin but there is no release. No rush of power. Frustration threatens to overwhelm me once more. I turn to the doctor, words hot on my lips. But they won’t come out. I begin to lose control little by little.

Memories of joy come first. With each one, I feel myself relax into it. The grateful smiles on people’s faces and the looks of surprise in their eyes. As if they cannot believe they are still alive. Happiness begins to replace the anger in my heart. Slowly. Ever so slowly I feel it start to return. 

My hold is loosening. But this time there is a difference. Like thread being pulled gently through a needle, I trickle away. I let it. I can feel it. Growing stronger. I am not being stretched thin. I am not being pulled in a constant game of tug-of-war. A small part of me fights it, just like I always have. But an even larger part embraces it like an old friend. 

My power fills me like it never has before. Not my desire for power. Not the constant war with myself over it.

            Almost as if the doctor can sense a change in me, he rises. I know that this wasn’t his doing. I know that he had no control over what just happened. And I am so thankful. My feet plant firmly against the ground and I stare back at him. Without another word, I walk into the hallway not bothering to glance behind me.