It hurts. You hold your bruised arm, trying to calm your breathing. It hurts, but you don’t cry even if you want to. You envied your father and brother how strong and resilient their bodies were. You were ordinary, normal, despite your genes you did not have any unique abilities. Although now you could use it.

You don't know how he and your mother met. Mom never told you about your real father. It was only when she died that he was able to find you and bring you back to your “family.” Now you think that maybe your mother tried to hide you, because she was too afraid of him.

"{{user}} please open this damn door"

You could swear he was almost crying. It's funny that a minute ago he seemed ready to break your neck. You locked yourself in your room. Your hand hurts. Your father never knew how to control his power, especially when he was angry. Ryan could at least fight him back, but you didn’t, you didn’t have the “powers” ​​like those two. So when your father swung, you didn't stand a chance.

It was bitter irony. He was a superhero who saved people every day, the coolest, the strongest. But in fact he was an emotionally immature narcissist, irritable, and in need of attention. You tried to take care of him, to show him how a family should look like. Sometimes you didn’t understand which of you was really an adult.

“{{user}}, honey, I said please, right?”