My Very Own Superhero

Copyright

My Very Own Superhero is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

MY VERY OWN SUPERHERO: A NOVEL

Copyright © 2020 by D. S. Tossell

All rights reserved.

Editing by KP Editing

Cover Design by KP Designs

- www.kpdesignshop.com

Published by Kingston Publishing Company

- www.kingstonpublishing.com

The uploading, scanning, and distribution of this book in any form or by any means—including but not limited to electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the permission of the copyright holder is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized editions of this work, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

Table of Contents

Copyright

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Epilogue

About the Publisher

Prologue

Gwen

Age 5

My cheeks ache as my palm slowly makes its way up the sore spot. I can feel the heavy tears flow down, but I hold in my sniffle.

Mommy hates it when I cry.

Do what I told you, Gwen. Looking up at my mommy’s face, I watch as her face turns from angry to frustrated.

B-but mommy, I’m hungry. Her face turns red and I clutch Mr. Rabbit closer to my chest, letting my hand fall from my face and drag my tired feet over towards the bedroom.

Mommy hates it when I’m around when Mr. Slope comes over. She always makes me hide in the closet for a long time. I have Mr. Rabbit, but my tummy is starting to hurt. Mommy didn’t have breakfast this morning and it's almost night time. I reach the closet and slide open the dirty door, climbing in between the garbage bags of clothes and other junk.

Mommy always says we have to be ready to run out of here, so we keep everything in garbage bags.

Once I find a good spot, I reach for my book, cracking open the closet door just a little bit so that I can see and read my favorite book, Corduroy. Mommy bought me the book a long time ago when I was in her belly, and since it’s the only one I have, I read it every night.

I’m almost done with my book for the second time in a row when I hear a really loud banging noise coming from the other room. I put my ear closer to the small slither of light and jump when I hear the banging noise again followed by my mommy screaming bad words.

Mommy? I whisper, not sure if I will get in trouble for going out there right now. My tummy is rumbly and it’s hurting again.

More loud banging and what sounds like Mr. Slope yelling, but I push away the bad words, focusing again on my book.

Help me, someone help me.

I look up when I hear my mommy’s voice screaming for help. I sit up trying not to make too much noise, which is hard because of the plastic garbage bags. My hand grabs hold of the closet doors, but I still before opening them further.

Mommy told me to stay put and I can still remember the last time I got into trouble when I snuck out for forgetting Mr. Rabbit. Mommy’s punishment hurt, but after, she always holds me and says sorry. That time she didn’t. My ribs were hurting really bad after she threw me against the wall, and it wasn’t until later that night when I wouldn’t stop crying did mommy say sorry.

Mommy was always sorry.

Laying back down in my spot, I clutch Mr. Rabbit tightly, shutting my eyes and lowering my head as far as I can. Mom’s screams don’t stop, the banging doesn’t stop, and it isn’t until my eyes start getting droopy does all the yelling and bad words and the banging on the wall finally end.

I startle when I hear the front door open and shut with a loud slam, rattling the whole apartment.

Mommy? I call out, a little louder just in case mommy is sleeping. My stomach grumbles again and this time it’s really painful. I step out of the closet, holding Mr. Rabbit close to me and tip toe into the living room.

Mommy is on the floor sleeping. I walk past her, not wanting to wake her and run straight into the kitchen. There is nobody else here, but that doesn’t mean her boyfriend won’t be back. Mom’s boyfriend is always here.

The dirty yellow kitchen cloth hangs loosely from the fridge handle and I use that and all my weight to open the door. Cold air blows toward me, but there is nothing, but empty beer bottles in the fridge. Wiping at my face, trying to stay steady enough to keep looking, I jump up on the counter and open the first cabinet where mommy hides all the crackers. I find a small bag and grab them jumping back down off the counter and running back to the room. Jumping into the closet, I settle into my spot and eat the remaining few crackers.

My tummy is not satisfied, but I don’t feel more pain when it grumbles. Gripping my book in one hand and Mr. Rabbit in the other, I lay back down and read my favorite story. I wish I was Lisa; I wish I could find a friend like Corduroy and help him in his adventures. My eyes start dropping again, but startle once more when I hear the front door bang against the wall.

What did you do, Slope?

I tried to─

No, I don’t want to hear that. Look at her man, Travis is going to kill you. My eyes blink faster as I hear the voices grow louder.

Mommy, where are you?

He doesn’t have to know, as far as he’s concerned blue ice killed Janice. Just help me get her up and I’ll find a place for her.

You want me to move her? Hell no. Why don’t you just make it look like she overdosed?

Because you dumbass, once the coroner takes a look at her, they’ll obviously rule that out. Now come and help me.

Fuck, man. Fine alright, I’ll help, but are you sure you covered all your tracks?

Tracks?

Yes man. Like is there anybody else in the house? She got any kids or anything?

Fuck, she has a little girl. I don’t know where she is, but Janice must have put her to bed in her room. Let’s check in there first.

Whoa. What the hell do you plan on doing to her once you find her?" My body shakes and I cover my mouth with my hand, my other still clutching onto Mr. Rabbit.

I don’t know, man. Just fucking help me.

I can hear the bedroom door open, followed by drawers being pulled open as the bad men go looking for me. Why isn’t mommy telling them something? I’m scared.

Where is mommy?

This the only bedroom? The man asks Mr. Slope.

I’ve never liked him because he always makes mommy sleep for a long time, then when she wakes up, she’s really mad at me. When he doesn’t come over for a long time, then mommy is nice. Mommy finally just made me start going to the closet. I don’t like that either, but it’s better than staying with Mr. Slope.

Yeah. She’s got to be in the closet. My back hits the wall as they both come closer and Mr. Slope slides open the closet door with a loud thud. I fall back against the garbage bags and scream when a large hand grabs my shirt pulling me up by it. There you are you little shit.

I close my eyes and hold my breath. I don’t like his breath. It smells like our garbage cans and mommy’s funny beers.

Slope, what do you want to do with her? I turn and see the other man whose face has a long scar across it. He’s skinny and short and has gloves on with holes on each finger. He steps closer and looks at me as I struggle to get out of Mr. Slope’s arms. Fuck man, she’s small as hell. You may as well take her to a damn firehouse.

Firehouse? Are you stupid? Mr. Slope asks, as his grip becomes tighter. I yelp out when his fingers dig too far into my shoulder. Shut the fuck up. A slap against my sore cheek shocks me and I immediately begin crying.

Mommy. Mommy help me. Mommy help me, I scream.

Mommy never comes.

Mommy’s always sorry.

I said shut the fuck up. Another slap and this time my crying gets louder. My cheek hurts, I’m scared, I’m hungry.

Where is mommy?

Fuck man, she’s going to bring some unwanted attention. Let’s get the fuck out of here. The other man walks out of the bedroom and I hear the door slam shut from the living room. Mr. Slope swears more bad words, then looks down at me. Sitting me down on the floor where my cries stop, Mr. Slope grabs my hand, leading me to the living room.

Is he taking me to mommy?

Walking through the living room, I see mommy in the same spot she was in when I came in to get the crackers. I run over to her, letting go of Mr. Slope’s hand, screaming and crying, ready to tell her that Mr. Slope hurt me, but she doesn’t wake up. I scream more, pull and push her body, but she doesn’t wake up.

Mommy, please, I cry more, then get pulled back by Mr. Slope. I turn rubbing my eyes and hiccupping.

Kid, let’s fuckin’ go, now.

No, I want my mommy. I try to pull away, but Mr. Slope grabs hold of my hair and pulls me to him, picking me up. I scream out, my head hurting really bad, but Mr. Slope just walks to the front door. I can see mommy’s legs, but they’re not moving. Mommy!

Mr. Slope opens the door, but stops and says another bad word when Mrs. Johnson stands there with a wooden bat. Mrs. Johnson never comes out of her apartment, only to get her deliveries, but sometimes she will smile at me.

Lady, get the fuck out of my way.

Not going to let you take that little girl. Give her to me and I won’t tell the cops where you are, they’re already on their way.

You stupid─

You’re wasting precious time, son, Mrs. Johnson’s voice is calm, and sad, her gray hair that’s always matted up in a bun is loose today, and she’s wearing her thing that mommy calls a moo-moo. She waves the bat in the air ready to hit Mr. Slope causing him to step back and say more bad words. Does this mean I don’t have to leave mommy?

Fuck. Mr. Slope throws me to Mrs. Johnson and part of the bat hits my ear, but I jump down watching as Mr. Slope runs right out of the apartment and runs right over to mommy. I can feel Mrs. Johnson comes over to me and lays her hand on my back, but I don’t turn around. I just want mommy.

Mommy wake up. Mommy please, Mr. Slope, he hit me and my head hurts.

Mommy doesn’t wake up.

Gwen, sweetheart, come with me. I don’t listen to Mrs. Johnson. I just cry and lay next to mommy. She smells funny and her lips have nasty stuff on them, but I curl into her body like I do when we sleep.

Mommy just wants to sleep.

But mommy doesn’t wake up.

She doesn’t wake up when the policeman comes and pulls me off her, she doesn’t wake up when I scream for her, and she doesn’t wake up when they put a white sheet over her body.

Mommy is always sorry.

And I’m scared.

Chapter 1

Brandon

Good work today, Brandon, Mac calls out, as I hang up my safety vest in the office.

Thanks, Mac. See you tomorrow, I shout back, but he’s already on the phone, his raspy voice littered with coughs from his thirty years of smoking filters in through his extremely loud conversation.

Shutting the door of the trailer behind me, I walk out and head towards my beat-up old Chevy pickup, chuckling when I see Sean laying on the hood of the truck like a pin up girl.

Off the hood, you dick, I mumble, as I get close enough to see his eyes are not only closed, but he’s pretending to be asleep.

Oh, come on, Brandon, I thought we could go out tonight, meet some girls at a bar, bring them back to your house, spank them if they're naughty.

You’ve got some weird standards man. I shake my head and growl when he climbs down from my truck dramatically, causing the hood to bend in. Asshole.

Oh sorry, did I damage the resale value of this old beauty, Sean states sarcastically, patting the hood with his fist as I walk around and get ready to hop inside. We both know this truck isn’t worth its value, but it’s the last thing I have of my fathers. Oh, come on, Brandon. Let’s go out tonight, get some drinks. We can even go over our plan to start up our business venture that we had the other night.

Turning around, I hold the door open and smirk at my best friend of over ten years. Business venture? We were both drunk as hell, laughing our asses off at the stupidest things when you came up with that so-called plan. Besides, I’m exhausted, I’m going home. I turn and head back into the truck, slamming it shut as Sean makes his way towards the door.

You mean to tell me you have no thoughts about starting up your own construction business? I pause, just before the keys touch the ignition.

I’ve always been the jock, the football player, the basketball star, the athlete. My pops coached every team I was in since I could walk and as much as I loved the time we shared, I mostly did it for him. Working with my hands has always been my dream, and if I could open my own construction business, I’d be all for it. Problem is, we have no idea where to start and until I do, it’s going to remain a dream.

Come on, Brandon, you know you have to do something with that money anyways. Why not do something you’ve always wanted now that you have the capital?

My keys automatically hit the ignition and I look over at my best friend, placing my seat belt on quickly. Look, I’ve got to go; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Brandon, look man I’m sorry─ Before he could say more, I drive off, leaving Sean in the dust. My heart rate settling more and more the further I am away from speaking about the inheritance I received after my parents death.

Shutting my eyes, I ignore the impending pounding in my head at the former images of me going out to the scene and identifying what was left of my parents after a man high off his ass, lead a group of police cars one hundred miles an hour down the wrong side of the road.

He survived, they didn’t.

My drive home is uncomplicated. It takes no more than half an hour to get home and park in the driveway of my Victorian style new home. Dad helped me find the land, and together we were able to build it. It’s nice to be able to say I helped build my own home and for the cash value, it was a steal. It was in a great neighborhood and I had amazing neighbors, one of which, Miss Bowen enjoyed bringing me overloads of delicious homemade goods while I repaid her by fixing anything in her home that needed attention. Mom always said it was too big for me to live in on my own and to anybody else that has a set of ears, that was mom talk for ‘find yourself a wife and pop out those grandbabies already.’ Mom was like that, never wanted me alone, always wanted to know if I found love.

Guess she will never know.

Shaking off the saddened memories, I walk inside, throwing down my jacket and keys along with my phone and wallet. It’s been perfect weather lately, cold enough to warrant a jacket, but warm enough to never need it on. Growing up here in Naperville, it’s always been perfect days upon perfect days and for everyone that enjoys the cold and snow, it’s the perfect destination for both.

Walking through my house, I spot the remote in the same spot I had it in earlier, Football season starts soon and I for one, cannot wait. I walk towards the kitchen, open the fridge to grab a beer and that’s when I notice my old answering machine flashing a red light on its surface.

What the hell? I whisper, slowly creeping over to it as it were possessed. No one uses home phones anymore, and it’s a miracle I haven’t thrown this thing out, but mom bought it for me the moment I entered my new home, telling me that having a home phone symbolized having a home. Never knew what exactly that meant, but I kept anyway. Now as the red-light flashes over and over and the number one appears on the small LED screen, I briefly wonder if her voice is what I’ll hear on the other line.

Pressing the play button my eyes narrow in confusion as a woman with an extremely sexy voice comes over. At first, I don’t quite comprehend what she is saying, so I play it back three times over until the words finally settle in.

Belle from social services…

Accident…

Need to call right away…

My finger hovers over the delete button, intending to put a stop to the alluring voice telling me news about something happening to someone I knew, but I don’t press it. Instead, I stomp over to the living room, down the hall and to my room for a hot shower.

A prank.

It has to be a prank.

Some kid got my number and decided to have his older sister play along.

A prank.

Has to be.

Right?

Chapter 2

Belle

Hanging up the phone with fury, I blow out a deep breath, watching as my brown hair flies up and slowly back down as I lean my head the palms of my hands.

Dramatic much? I turn and roll my eyes as Kyler strolls over in his perfect stature.

I’m not being dramatic; I just hate that I haven’t been able to get a hold of someone, my monotone voice is full of dread and sorrow. I have been trying to get a hold of Mr. Carter for three days now. Being a social worker, I am used to people not bothering to answer their calls, but I would think with the messages I have left him, I would have gotten a call back by now.

Mr. Carter still not responding huh? he says, perching his hip up against my desk. I look up at his form as he crosses his arms across his broad chest.

Kyler Branson is what everyone calls a lady killer. He’s been a social worker for over ten years, but looking at him you would guess his full-time job would be modeling covers of GQ. He’s tall, with dark brown hair and a thin beard. His nose is straight and jawline the same. He’s a pretty boy, the office’s Hemsworth, but he never settles down with anyone. When I first came here a few months ago, I was stricken by him, but he’s become one of my very best friends in such a short time.

No and we have nothing on file for him except his home phone number.

People still have those? I shrug my shoulders then grab the phone located on my desk once again. Kyler, grabs hold of it before I can dial, then places it back on the base. Sweetheart, you need a break, a breather, some much needed CPR. Let’s go out and get some sweets.

Before I can protest about carbs and unnecessary sweets and how my body seems to gain weight just from simply smelling anything delicious, Kyler lifts me up by my arms and drags me out the door.

You’ve got to get your mind off work, Belle. You can’t save everybody every single time.

I know that.

My monotone bratty voice is back and when Kyler turns and gives me a knowing look, I know he can hear it too.

Come on, you can treat me to a blueberry muffin and a coffee. We walk