“My head is killing me…”
Tanya lifted the gauze on my forehead and reeled. “Well, you did just get your ass handed to you,” she sighed.
I rolled in her bed, still in costume, and ached. “Did you see?”
“Everybody with a TV saw,” she said and patted the blood away; “and now all the local channels are talking about this Vortex guy, who they think he is, and where they think he comes from.”
Every time I closed my eyes I felt my body sink. The world kept spinning and I would slip under until I opened them again; my stomach kept turning. More than the pain, more than the nausea, there was the ever lingering thought that he would show up at any second to finish me off.
Tanya stroked my hair and drew strands from my eyes. “Kaira, listen to me.” Her tone weighed my thoughts to the ground. “You have to go to the police,” she said. “They’ve got people who can handle this. Maybe they can call in one of the big name heroes.”
“I can’t go to the police,” I whispered.