A Sad Kind of Superhero

A loud cry echoed down the hall, drowning out the sounds of beeping, vomiting and voices. The cry belonged to a young boy, one of the many patients of the children's hospital. He had been diagnosed with fibromyalgia. He was 11 years old. Too young to be diagnosed with a chronic pain disorder, Madeleine thinks. The door to the boy’s room was slightly ajar, the nurse having just left to briefly talk with his doctor. Slipping through the door, Madeleine gave the young boy a small smile.

“Hello, Georgie. How are you feeling?” Georgie looked up at her tiredly.

“Sore.” Madeleine laughed lightly, and the boy smiled. She took a seat beside his bed and held out her hand. He placed his small hand in hers, wincing as he moved his shoulder. Georgie’s pain had started in the chest and left shoulder, before growing. She rubbed his hand.

“You’ll feel better soon, you know. The doctors are taking good care of you, and you’ll be back with your family in no time.” He nodded, looking down the bed. He was quiet for a moment.

“My uncle had it,” he murmured, “he always complained about the ache and random shooting pain. I always thought he was really weak, like Grandpa said. I get it now.” He looked back up at her. Madeleine knew she had to help him. She could hear the voice of his Grandpa as he thought of it, a gruff old voice snapping at his son, calling him a prissy little girl. He hadn't understood that his son had a physical problem, and thought he just couldn’t handle the pains of growing up. I didn’t raise you to be a weakling, he would say. Madeleine knew it hurt Georgie to know his Grandpa would probably think the same of him. She gripped his hand a little tighter and hushed him. She closed her eyes, and cleared her thoughts. In her mind, she pictured a door, leading straight to Georgie’s mind. When she opened it, she could see his grandfather, glaring hatefully at his son, and endearingly at his grandchildren, the kids of his other son, the strong son. She cleared the pictures away, replacing them instead with what she knew the young boy liked. A breeze, the sound of waves crashing against the rocky cliff, the scent of salt water, a large lighthouse overlooking the everlasting ocean. Overhead, a seagull squawked. She felt Georgie’s hand go slack in hers as he fell asleep. She used this time to pull the pain away from him. Her own body began to stiffen and ache, slowly at first, then more sharply. A wave of fatigue washed over her, a thumping began to emit from the back of her head. The room was too cold, she realised, right as her stomach clenched. Gritting her teeth, Madeleine withdrew back into her own mind, and tried not to cry as she realised just how much discomfort this young boy had been in. Her hands felt funny, as if she’d been sitting on them for a long time. Opening her eyes slowly, the first thing she saw was the child sleeping comfortably on his bed, for the first time in months. He sighed softly, his head turning to the side. She stood slowly, trying to get used to the new ache and pain in her once perfectly healthy body. She forgot for a second why she had stood, but remembered quickly and left the room, smiling at the people she passed. When she reached her apartment, she slid down the wall into a sitting position, taking deep breaths.

It was time, she knew. Time to bequeath all the pain, suffering and anguish she had taken from others to someone else, someone who deserved it. Resting her head on her knees, she thought through all the terrible people in the city. So many muggers, rapists, Karens, politicians, but did they deserve all of it? Could she give it away in segments? Probably not. Taking another deep breath, a sudden thought hit her. She knew exactly who to give it to.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………… Johnathon Wane. A police officer who had abused his position to abduct, rape and brutally murder children. He’d gotten away with it for thirty years until he made a mistake and one child escaped. He’d been found and reunited with his mother and told her everything. Of course, no one believed him right away, until a search was done of Wane’s property, revealing a cellar with the bodies of a young boy and an older girl, both had been dead for a while. Wane had been arrested, charged and sentenced to the death penalty. He had a week to go before he was executed.

Madeleine stood at the cell door, watching Wane. She’d come to do a “routine” check on him, make sure he wasn’t ill or injured or on drugs or anything like that. As she entered his cell, she noticed several things about Wane, the first being that he was covered in bruises and scrapes, undoubtedly from the other prisoners.

When her checkup was finished, she asked him to lay down, claiming to have one more thing to do. She placed one of her hands on his, the other on his forehead. In her mind, she pictured a similar door as she had with Georgie, and all the children before him. She opened this door, entering Wane’s mind. Immediately, pictures of the beaten and raped children flashed in front of her. It took everything she had in her to focus. With each bloodied child, she knew she had made the right choice.

Madeleine took a deep breath out, pushing all the pain and negative energies out of her mind and body and into his. She heard him gasp, but kept her hands still. She didn’t put him to sleep, or send him to a different place like she had with Georgie. As dark as it was, Madeleine wanted him to feel everything, the pain creeping into his joints, bones and muscles, the fear, sadness and anger creep into his mind. His body tensed, and he began to tremble. For a brief second, she wondered if it were too much for him, but decided she didn’t care. She kept pushing.

Wane’s body stilled, his breathing evened, and he lost consciousness. Madeleine smiled, packed up all of her medical equipment and left, feeling lighter than she had in years.

It was good, she decided in that moment, to be powerful enough to take the pain away from those who don’t deserve it, and give it to those who do. He may only have a week left, but that week was going to be hell for the serial killer.