The Tower.

The death and destruction of one thing, for the start of another. Drama, major life changes and chaos. Destruction. Surely there are millions of ways to interpret The Tower in tarot but all of them have a similar underlying theme. A major life event is about to unfold. Mine is happening now. I knew this was something that would eventually happen. I knew that we would end up here at some point in our relationship. I couldn’t exactly blame her really. I’d been disappearing apparently for weeks at a time. I didn’t even know what I was out there doing during these time frames. I was getting involved with for all cases and purposes, extremely illegal activities, even outside of the general investigative vigilante stuff. Hell– I possibly had possession of a brand-new street drug that was currently in the hands of one of Industry's most notorious Villains.

That being said. I’d honestly been trying so very hard to make this work. I desperately wanted things to be ok. Maybe admittedly it was selfish, wanting something normal in my life that wasn’t going to fall apart but believe me. I've tried. Calls, long talks at night, sleepovers. The various many times we’d re-evaluated what our relationship had meant to us. All of these things are important for any relationship. We both had put in so much time and so much work. I don’t want it to sound like she hadn’t either. She’d put up with so much of my bullshit since even before the transition that quite frankly, I am a little surprised this hasn’t happened sooner.

I come with a lot of emotional baggage. I understand that. I come with a past that isn’t entirely easy to swallow for everyone. I come with an entirely different personality sometimes too. But I do try. I try so hard to make things work for the people around me. I try so very hard for my own personal bullshit to stay sealed and to not let it leak out onto everyone. It is hard though, when there is so much to deal with. Maybe Stacy was right. Maybe I should get into therapy.

Three cards sat on my desk, illuminated by the dual curved monitors as the little Jefferson animation paced nervously. The Lovers, reversed-The Tower in the center and The Fool. I took the read as myself being the fool here and the tower obviously coupled with the lovers reversed was going to mean breakup. I didn’t need to be a fancy detective to figure that one out. But the fool also represented a new journey. I had a single clarifier card laying across the 3 main ones too. The Ace of Swords sat glaring up from its sideways position. The creepy thing about this deck was, outside of its vague themes of horror, it looks so similar to things in my life. The Tower, for instance, was a stack of broken computer monitors tumbling down a hillside graveyard. That looked strikingly like my Graveyard.

I sat looking at the pull as I held two cups of tea in my hand. The steam curled around me as the smell lingered, berry flavored. It was both of our favorites. I sat the cup on the coffee table in the lobby. Jess sat on the couch, leaning against the wall. Her long dirty blonde hair had been messily wrapped into a ponytail. She wore a hoodie with one of our favorite bands on it. Her jeans, while torn, looked expensive and her fit was tied together with the new shoes she’d just gotten last month. She looked wonderful, as usual. She smiled up at me as the mug made a clank onto the table. I never bothered with coasters or anything. It was an old table I found in a warehouse somewhere. I couldn’t even tell you where anymore. Seeing her reminded me of how messy my curly hair had gotten. I fidgeted with it as I set my cup down next to hers and plopped onto the couch too.

“You know, you would look great with straight hair honestly.” She said, her voice was soft, always had been, which was sometimes hard to hear.

“You think so? I’ve had this curly hair forever though.” I smiled at her, fidgeting once again with my curly, bushy orange hair.

“I do.” She nodded, taking a sip of the tea with a smile and a sigh. I sighed as well, knowing what she was going to say next.

“So–” I began.

“AJ. I think we both know what’s about to happen, yeah?” She asked bluntly. I can’t quite say I didn’t appreciate the bluntness. I hated fishing and beating around the bush.

“Yeah.” I sighed. “Is there anything I can do to change your mind here Jess? You know I absolutely love you right?” I asked.

“I know. I absolutely love you too, but no. There isn’t. You have to admit. This has been difficult. I know for you, but for me too. I’m trying to balance work at the IPD, I’m trying to balance working as one of the lead coordinators of Fear Patrol and I am currently dating one of our highest graded targets.” She said, setting the mug back down with a slightly harder thud than mine.

“I’m sorry.” Was all I could manage to say. I wasn’t sure what else to say. I’m sure she was right. I’m sure it was difficult to balance these things but also, had she even considered how hard it was for me too? How difficult it was trying to make sure I didn’t do anything that would jeopardize her career? How I tried to make sure that there wasn’t anything that could hurt her, from my own actions. I always made sure she was protected. Graveyards sake, there were days when I’d patrol the Fear building just to make sure she got in and out ok. I don’t know, was I starting to sound too selfish? Maybe I had made it harder for her. Maybe I was gaslighting myself here?

“No. Your opinions are just as valid here AJ. Take a step forward and defend yourself. You want her? You want to keep her? Tell her.” There were times I hated the voice in the back of my head. It sometimes seemed so out of place for me, but there were other times where it made sense. I nodded. What followed–I can only describe what followed as a brutal fight. One of the worst fights I think we both had. We both had stood our ground; we both had said some things. A lot of swearing, a lot of past traumas re contextualized. There had even been a point where both of us ignited flames in our hands. We would never have hit each other of course but this was definitely a heated conversation. I’d made the joke once, which finally got us both to laugh. That was good, she was still laughing at my jokes. After hours of this conversation, it was finally decided that we’d separate and go our own ways. A couple good years' worth of a relationship, down the drain. Some things had been said at the end though that kind of hurt, no they really hurt. They stung like hell actually.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“You couldn’t manage to save this relationship any more than you managed to save Crystal from that car crash.” She’d spat. I couldn’t help myself but to tear up. That was an incredibly low blow. I felt the tears bleeding down my face. A small flame erupted from my gloved hand. Jess got defensive again. We could have been finished. We could have calmly finished our pieces and moved on, but this sentence sparked another three-hour conversation. More things were said and honestly, the ugly side of my girlfriend had finally shown. She started saying things that she’d apparently had on her mind for a while. Including the fact that she wished I’d given myself up and allowed myself to be imprisoned. She would have preferred me being under the watchful eyes of the government 24/7 than free?

We fought. For those three hours. A rekindled anger burned inside me. I’d never felt this betrayed and hurt before. Surely, I understood her position on things. But–it wasn’t just career versus relationships anymore. This was my own freedom. She’d preferred me being imprisoned to us working things out because this was too difficult to juggle. That's what it amounted to. Oh, we fought. Finally, after those three more hours, the dust settled. My tea kettle screamed as smoke blared from it. I waved my hand and cut the ignition of the stove.

We both sat in silence, Jefferson idled on the screen. I focused on everything but her. The darker colored paint of the walls. The carpet. The fact that I should throw some trans flags down here at some point. I looked down the hall towards the bathroom, it always creeped me out for some reason and I couldn’t place exactly why. I always saw some creepy faceless woman staring at me from the darkness but I’d always just written it off as a traumatic memory of the car crash and what my brain thought Crystal looked like. I stood finally, making sure the stove was in fact off. I rounded the corner and Jess was standing, playing with the zipper of her hoodie.

“I love you, AJ. I always will. I’m never going to give this place up or turn you in.” She smiled.

“No. But you’d prefer it if Melony actually got me.” I said harshly, but quietly. She didn’t say no. She just frowned a faint smile finally cracking.

“I love you and I hope for the best of you. I hope you eventually get the help you need and that you recover from these demons of yours Hun.” She said, placing a hand on my shoulder. I removed it. I wanted to embrace her. Believe me I wanted nothing more than to go back before these last few hours and just hug her, listen to her day. Tell her about mine. But that was gone. I was never going to experience that again.

“But you’d still prefer if Melony had actually killed me.” I whispered. It was something she’s more or less alluded to during the last stretch of our fight. I remember her words being something along the lines of “This would have been easier if she’d been a better shot.” Things get said in the heat of arguments. But there’s a difference between reminding someone they didn’t take the trash out one-night last week and outright saying that your life would be better off if your partner was dead.

“I’ll have Jenn swing by the house later on to bring back some of the things you have at the house. I’m sorry this couldn’t have worked out Hun. I really, really am. I think, though, that this might work out better for both of us in the long run this way really.” She started towards the stairs leading up and out of the bunker. She turned to face me; her face concealed by shadow now. “You know, you really should consider giving yourself over to The Institute. I’m sure I could convince the board to get you a better living situation than others in The Basement. It’s something to keep in mind Hun. I love you.” Those were the last words she said to me before I heard the bunker doors slamming shut behind her. I couldn’t help my anger. A flame, dancing with splashes of darkness throughout, blasted from my hands and up towards the door. I screamed in anger as tears of heartbreak once again poured from my eyes.

She actually wanted me to surrender. She wanted me to be studied by those bastards in the Institute. She wanted me to be under the knife, to be evaluated for ‘science” when all they actually ever did was torture us. They sent us to die. If you were considered too dangerous for society, which as per my evaluations as a child, I would be. Especially, especially given my fucking double powers. It wasn’t common. They’d absolutely dissect the hell out of me. That was something those cozy fuckers in the office, like Jess, didn’t like to bring up but we all knew. They experimented on some of us there. Horror stories have surfaced from survivors. It's terrifying what they'll do to us in that place and here she is, asking me to just give myself up so she can get the win on this one? Fuck that.

The pain shot back through my body. Oh yeah that's right. I had been recovering from literally being shot and impaled. She hadn’t even asked how I was doing. I sat down in the chair at my desk. The tarot spread still gloating at me.

“Well, that didn’t go as you’d wanted, did it?” Jefferson innocently asked.

“Wanted, no. Expected, more or less. Minus the fact that she literally wants me dead.” I could feel the tears still dropping. I looked at the spread and drew another card. A clarifier I know usually you do those before the big thing the cards allegedly predict but I wanted some weird sense of justification to the argument. Call it morbid curiosity. I shuffled the deck and pulled a card from the middle.

The Hanged man, which looked oddly like a prison cell to me. Could have just been the timing and the situation, the stress and everything. I dropped the card and flopped down on the couch with a heft that hurt like hell. A flame conjured in my hands as I started tossing it up and catching it like a ball.

I had a lot to think about. How to move forward. What to do with this Woodpecker. What to do with Jess now. I was single. This hurt more than the physical wounds. I got up and grabbed the remote for the tv. I turned it on. It had been a while since I just layed back and watched something. I turned my phone off, grabbed the blanket–that had been a gift from Jess and curled up. I opened a streaming service, picked my favorite comfort show and drifted to sleep in tears. All I could hope for now was that maybe something good would come from this. Maybe I could move forward.

Maybe.