ession as he explained my condition. Severe spinal trauma. Nerve damage. He used a lot of medical ter

else. My body was just a prison now. A prison from which I would plan my war. The physical paralysis

lawless. She wept, her tears looking so real. She stroked my hair and

care of you,

had to play my part. I looked at her with what I hoped were dead, grief-stricken eyes. I let my jaw hang slack. I le

d out, making my v

confirming her belief that I was broken and oblivious. Her expression softened wit

me, feed me, talk to me about funeral arrangements for the boy she had murdered. Each word she spoke, each gentle touch, was an act of profou

earing the little Captain America costume he loved so much. He wasn't looking at me. He was just there, a small, vibrant splash of color in the sterile white room. The

hings to go home for a few hours, something fell

hain. A miniature replica

caught in

on. He never went anywhere without it. He insisted on clipping it to the

ce station. Or lost in the wreckage. There was n

king through the debris of my life, salvagin

r back to me. When she turned around,

he said with a smal

erheard. They were a physical object I could see, a cold piece of metal that confirm