The Loop

July 30th

“Adam? If you get this message, please call me back as soon as you can. Mom and dad aren’t answering their phones, and I just really need to talk to someone right now.”

It had been weeks since Sarah’s brother had killed himself, and outside of the support from my parents the few days immediately after it happened, it was like everyone else had moved on. Not Sarah or her parents, of course, but for my family and my other friends it certainly seemed like it was old news.

I could hardly blame people for feeling that way. My friend’s brother’s suicide must have seemed inconsequential in the face of all the momentous global events that had happened since. There were literally people flying around and shooting lasers from their eyes. The army was saying that they were putting together a special squadron of these so-called Hyperhumans—a few idiots my age had started calling them ‘Hypes’ ironically online, and it was starting to catch on—to hunt down terrorists. Other countries were probably doing the same thing, and that was making a lot of people scared.

I didn’t follow mass media much, but even I couldn’t ignore the stress on the faces of reporters when I glanced around the corner into the living room while my parents sat together for the nightly ritual of the evening news, nor the tension in their voices. They were trying very hard to hide it, and mostly doing a good job—they were professionals, after all—but I was learning very quickly how to hide my tension and stress, and I’d gotten better at picking up on when others were doing the same.

So yes, with all of that happening, it was no wonder that Ben’s death had been so quickly swept under the rug. For all these people, it must have seemed like a lifetime ago, and in a way it was. But now something else had happened, something worse, and I was breaking down completely with no one to help me, or to even notice that I needed to be helped.

Last night, Sarah had sent me a cryptic text that read: “Thanks for being such a good friend. I’ll miss you, Ange.”

This hit me for two reasons: one, I hadn’t been a good friend; I’d withheld information that could have saved her brother’s life, and two, why would she miss me? Where was she going?

I hadn’t texted back. I’d thought of going to Adam for advice, but I’d dismissed the idea almost immediately. I knew what he would have said: “just give her space. She’s probably tired and going to bed. You can talk to her in the morning.”

And fuck me, but I’d done exactly what the Adam in my head had suggested, as pissed at him as I was for the results of the last advice he’d given me.

But I hadn’t talked to Sarah this morning. I would never talk to Sarah again. Her parents had woken her up late at night and taken her downstairs to the van in the garage. That’s when she’d messaged me. They’d all gotten in and left the engine running. The garage door had been down, and a hose had been run from the exhaust pipe of the van to the front window. They’d fallen asleep peacefully—at least I desperately hoped so—and never woken up again.

A murder-suicide like that should have been the biggest news in a small town like ours, but instead I hadn't heard it mentioned. The lead story on the local news was about some Gabriela woman who’d been missing for a few days, and the only reason that anybody cared about it was because the police suspected powers were involved in her disappearance somehow.

In fact, she’d already been missing for several days before journalists took an interest. Construction workers had found the office where she worked trashed when they went back in to continue working after a three day work delay caused by some issues with the building’s power. Police had come in to investigate on the suspicion that that’s where she’d been abducted. They’d looked at the surveillance footage from the outside of the building and seen Gabriela walk into her office, where there were no cameras, and never walk back out.

Powers, I thought. If it weren’t for powers, they wouldn’t give a shit about this Gabriela, either. If it weren’t for powers and the sensationalism and the ratings that news coverage of powers-related events got, then horrible, everyday, mundane occurrences would happen with absolutely nobody being aware or caring.

I slammed my fist down on the kitchen table. I got up and walked to the sink to pour myself a glass of water, but I was shaking so badly that I could barely get two gulps in without spilling water all down my front. That only made me angrier.

I’d watched the news intently all day hoping for some mention of Sarah’s family, if only to reassure myself that it really had happened, that I wasn’t the only one who noticed. They never mentioned it. In the end, it was our mutual friend, Michelle, who’d broken the news to me. She said her parents could pick me up and I could spend the night there. I’d told her that wouldn’t be necessary, I’d be fine.

But outside of nodding and saying “oh honey, we’re so sorry,” and giving me a quick hug on their way out the door in the morning, my own parents hadn’t been there for me at all. And Adam had left for work before I’d even heard what happened, and now he wasn’t answering his phone.

I was starting to feel like my thoughts were spiraling. My breathing was shallow and fast. My head was floating away and my vision was narrowing.

I sat down on the ground, hard, and rested my head against the wall. The family cat, Patty, came up and sat down on my lap, purring like an old, rusted engine. I scratched behind her ears and tried to calm myself down. It wasn’t just sadness that was cutting into me, nor loss, nor hopelessness, I realized; it was something closer to rage. An entire family had been wiped off the map in a matter of weeks, and no one seemed to give a shit. No one had the time to care, or even notice.

It was those stupid fucking powers and the idiots flying around showing off. People were scared by it all, but not as scared as they should have been, and they were also disgustingly excited. Like these Hypes would really help anyone. Like anything that was happening could possibly lead anywhere positive. It was such bullshit.

I’d heard there was a Hype in Austin who could heal the sick with a touch. Where the fuck had he been when my friend’s brother needed healing? Powers came along a little too late to help Ben, and they sure hadn’t helped his family, either.

The world was as screwed up as ever, and everyone was acting like something had changed. These superpowers could only make things worse, I thought.

At nine-fifteen, Adam walked through the door, looking exhausted.

I didn’t give a shit how he looked.

“Didn’t check your phone all day?”

“Sorry, Ange, what? Did you try to get a hold of me?”

“I left you three voicemails and probably about a thousand texts.”

“Oh shit, I’m sorry. I had my phone on silent. It was kind of a crazy day.”

“A crazy day? You think you’ve had a crazy day?” I leveled a look of pure fury at him. My heart was beating harder again, and my breath was coming in gasps, but now it felt good. It felt righteous.

He looked at me absently, his head somewhere else, but in a few short seconds his face turned concerned.

“Oh my God, Angie. Your friend Sarah? I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”

The wind of resentment was taken out of my sails as he stepped toward me and folded me into a hug. He rested his chin on top of my head and said sorry over and over. I realized after a moment that I was crying. I felt my hair getting wet and realized that he was crying, too.

We stood like that for a while before I finally pushed him away, suddenly not wanting him to see me so vulnerable. I remembered then that I had blamed him for Ben’s death. That seemed so stupid, now. Ben had been sick. Even if Adam had given me the worst possible advice, I was the one who'd chosen to follow it. No one could have known where that would lead. Adam was and had always been uncertain and indecisive, and if I’d wanted someone to tell me to intervene, I should have gone to anyone else. But Ben’s death wasn’t on me, either. It was just something that happened. No one can see where any road will lead, not with any certainty.

All of this revelation came to me, into my mind, as if from some external place. It was like an angel whispering in my ears, easing me toward acceptance. But there was a lingering question that had been nagging at me since the moment before Adam had hugged me, and it was growing more insistent with each passing second.

“How did you know?” I asked.

“How did I know what?”

“How did you know about Sarah’s family? If you weren’t checking your phone, and—”

He took a little longer to answer than he should have.

“Mom … mom texted me first thing when she left for work this morning. Told me to call you and check in at some point. I, uh … With the day I had and how hectic things were, I’ll admit I forgot. And for that, Ange, I’m very sorry.”

“So you’ve known all day? And you forgot until you came home?”

There was a bit of that anger, just the embers of it, but I could feel them starting to flare up again. I was conflicted now, though, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to explode at him anymore.

“Save your apologies, Adam. It’s whatever. I’m fine.”

I stomped up the stairs to my room, and as I ascended, I again felt my thoughts turning in a more peaceful direction again, like something was pushing them in that direction. My mind turned toward patience, toward forgiveness, toward acceptance and moving on. I pushed back. I rejected those thoughts. They didn't feel like my own. I shut them out.

I might not have wanted to be mad at Adam anymore, but I did still want to be mad.

I came back around to powers as the thing to be mad about as I threw myself onto my bed, chest pounding and hands shaking. I pulled out my laptop and set to work.

There were people online—people who were committed to fighting back against these Hypes and the bullshit and the propaganda and the distraction—and I aimed to help their cause in whatever way I could.