Adrenaline flowing hard, I leap. Defying gravity. Hell, I’ll say it. I’m soaring.
Of course, I was leaping over puddles. Even with a cape, I can’t fly over the tops of buildings. I’m a superhero, not suicidal.
After slipping him a fifty, the bouncer never notices as I sneak backstage. Keeping to the shadows, my ever-expanding self is invisible, dark costume bleeding into black. Sure, maybe the steroids made me hard to miss and people cross the street away from me during the day but we all have to make sacrifices for our cause.
I never thought it would be Tracy though.
I spot him instantly on the stage, strumming his guitar and slurring some country-music-pop-piss like he thinks he’s God. He looks exactly like his profile pictures. Trying too hard to be soulful and eyeing up the few people in this bar bothering to glance his way. Were they actually looking back?
My teeth grind as my clenched fists find nothing to take it out on. What did they see in him? Sure, he looked alright. But he could barely put a chord together and his voice needed more auto-tuning than mechanically possible. Tracy had mumbled something about listening and not running off in the middle of the night dressed in spandex as she slammed the door. Whatever that meant.
She hadn’t been herself when she left. Muttering and distant, not like the Tracy I knew at all. He did something to her when he took her away from me that night.
It’s my responsibility to deal with monsters like him. I can’t let him do this to anyone else.
Whatever it takes.
Jennifer Lynch - Writer 