CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX - APOLLO

Nocturnal Struggle

Apollo swung back and forth on top of the bed.

If he had any more nails to chew on, he would’ve done so instead of nibbling on the tips of his fingers. Perhaps having these powers was a curse instead of a blessing. It certainly wasn’t a responsibility he was willing to carry, not at this stage in his life. When you’re only sixteen years young, you’re still learning about yourself and the world around you. Not how many prison inmates would be chomping at the bit to shove their dicks inside you.

They’re going to lock me up and throw away the keys. Apollo wriggled his head to push the thought out of his mind. Most people in this position would’ve used their powers and killed every police officer …

“No, no, no, no, STOP!” Apollo sprang to his feet and went into the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face. Wide timid eyes stared back at him in the mirror. “This is not the face of a stone-cold murderer,” he said, shutting off the tap. It didn’t sound convincing. Am I a stone-cold murderer?

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Apollo leaned in for a closer look, water trickling down his forehead. This face was soon going to be all over the news. Everyone in Ontario and beyond would’ve recognized him as a school shooter without knowing the full story.

“No, no, no, think!” Apollo said, storming out of the bathroom, pacing between the window and door. I didn’t kill those students at school, but I left my fingerprints on the gun that critter used! Stupid, stupid, stupid! Apollo smacked his forehead a few times, stopping in front of the window. He reached out with his mind to draw the curtains back. Apollo took a deep breath, looking at the crescent moon.

Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself, and it’s my anxiety getting the best of me. He took his fingers and gently massaged his temples, wincing at the drums banging at the sides of his head. Damn it, not again! Apollo looked at the clock: 11:44 p.m. Even though it was relatively late, being cooped up in this damn hotel room, fretting about when the police were going to arrest him wasn’t going to solve anything. I’m going for a walk.

Apollo went into his garbage bag and grabbed the first hoodie he saw, exiting the room and down the flight of stairs leading outside. He envisioned himself at a bar, gulping down shots of hard liquor like there was no tomorrow. By the end, if he blacked out, he knew he'd done his job of ridding himself of the discomforting thoughts plaguing his mind.

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