My name is Robert Freeman, and I saw my family die in front of my eyes.
My wife, Lily, and my son, Georgie, were bidding me farewell as I set off for work. Before I left, I noticed that my son was reading the autobiography of the 33rd Don.
'Interesting read,' I thought to myself. 'Might pick it up someday.'
I worked a normal office job at a newspaper company, where I was the head of printing. It wasn't the flashiest job, but it paid the bills—and then some. I was wearing my usual light brown suit with a hazel-coloured tie that had my morning toothpaste spilled on it. My shoes were squeaky clean and reflected the sun right into my eyes, while my black, professional hat absorbed all the light it could—or, as I saw it, sucked up all the negativity around me.
I made my way through the front door, and right before entering my car, I turned around to say goodbye to my family. I turned and saw them still staring at me dotingly—a truly beautiful memory. I began to wave goodbye, momentarily allowing my eyes to rest. When they reopened, I was greeted with the sight of my family sliced into pieces, strewn across my front porch.
I was soon arrested as the main suspect in the murder, which was when my ability started to appear. I was lying in my prison bed when my eyes closed for a few seconds, as they had done that day, and when I awoke, I was surrounded by green belts and ribbons spinning around me. I looked up to see that a massive, gaping hole had been created in the ceiling of my cell, opposite where I lay. Guards came rushing down and dragged me to the lowest level of the police station—Level 7.
Here, I was tested on hourly. I would only be granted sleep in one-hour increments before being woken up again to experience all sorts of bodily horrors in the name of research and science. I had next to no understanding of why this ability plagued me. All I knew was that I could control wind using my arms. I overheard the results of some of the tests, stating that the ability was embedded into my biology and genome, but I also heard talk of a tumour beginning to develop in my brain.
Whether it stemmed from my powers or from the testing—I was going insane.
My name is Robert Freeman, and my family has been kidnapped.
I am currently being held in the Berry Town police station's secret seventh floor, where I am a victim of inhumane testing. I must save my family and free myself from this testing, as it is actively growing a tumour inside me. These agents have me locked in a vacuum-sealed room, only allowing me to breathe through the ventilator they have strapped to me. They feed me nutrients through IV drips, which also contain drugs that suppress the movement of my arms. However, when I am actively being tested on, I am brought to a normal room where I barely have enough strength to use my powers weakly.
My plan is to slightly cut myself with my own power and carry that blood to the ventilator. Droplet by droplet, day by day, I will cause a distraction that forces them to allow air into my sleeping room, where I am not actively drugged.
After escaping and robbing a nearby man of his clothes, I made my way to the local supermarket. I needed not only to figure out a route to my family, but also to gain exceptional knowledge of the premises where they were being held in order to increase my chances of success. I panicked when I saw a young couple going for what seemed to be the final copy of the magazine detailing Parliament's layout, so I used my power to an extent I never had before—annihilating nearby aisles and sending them to the floor. I proceeded to kill more agents who had been sent after me by the Don to prevent my family from being saved.
Here I am, back in my prison cell, where my powers awakened for the first time—this time, armless. I'm unable to use my ability, "Actions Speak Louder Than Words," anymore and am stuck staring blankly at the ceiling.
That was a lie.
I am not staring blankly. My eyes are full of rage, targeted towards those who have my family captured. How dare they?! How dare you, God?! Here I am, stuck, unable to use the only trump card I had against the most powerful beings in the world. How am I going to save my family?
It turns out I had been thinking aloud, as the guard watching my cell finally spoke.
"You really don't get it, do you?" the young man said, turning to face my cell.
"Your family isn't kidnapped, you dumb shit. Your family is dead. Done and dusted. Deceased. No longer living. How many times do we have to spell it out for you?"
My eyes widened as memories of that day surged through my mind. I remembered the autobiography. I remembered the farewell. I remembered waving goodbye. I remembered their bodies.
"Huh, looks like it finally got to you. You finally understand what actually happened. There is no kidnapping, and there is no Don. The Don doesn't even know who you are. What could he possibly want with your shitty family?"
I pounced at the prison bars, hoping to bite the man's throat out.
"You think that's bad?" asked the officer.
"Let's put it this way. You had wind powers that mirrored your hand movements. If you sliced, the wind sliced. If you punched, the wind punched—pretty simple. What did you say you were doing before your family was sliced?"
My chest tightened.
"You were waving. That's it! You were waving—your family was sliced."
My heart fell into freefall.
"It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together."
"You killed your family."
I fell onto my back, hitting my head hard against the concrete floor. The officer's laughter was drowned out by my memories of that day.
I couldn't have killed them. I mean, I would know if I had killed them. My powers hadn't awakened by that point, so how could I have? It didn't make any sense. How could I have killed them? The recurring thought that bombarded my mind was the moment I had blinked. I didn't see what happened when my family was killed. I only saw the before and after. Maybe a small instance of my power began manifesting in that very moment.
No.
There's no way.
I would have known.
Right?
My name is Robert Freeman, and I killed my family.
"Lucan, Prisoner 004 has bitten his own tongue—badly. There's a lot of blood. I am requesting urgent care—I repeat, urgent care!"