After they tucked me into bed with extra stories. They went into their room, thinking I had gone to sleep. And I could tell that my parents are not at ease at all after knowing the fact that I am also like those super powered humans.
"What do we do, Emma? She's just five. We did not expected her to bloom this early."
"I know, but do we have any other choice here? We can't abandon her now."
"I am not saying that. And I am well aware of the choice that we made that day."
"So, we protect her. Whatever it takes."
"What if there are more incidents? What if someone finds out? You saw what happened to that family in Ohio–their enhanced son accidentally hurt a classmate, and they had to move three times to escape the harassment."
"Then we need to be more careful. We'll teach her control as best as we can."
"But what if something happens and we are not there to contain the situation. Like today, we got lucky that she broke that glass in her own house and we were here to handle the situation."
"I know this is a lot for us to handle right now. We can do this together, we have each other and Mia, our little angel, she has us."
"You are right, we have each other and she has us. We'll make sure that she is protected at all times and we need to teach her responsibility."
But there was one question stuck in my dad's mind. How are they supposed to teach a kindergartener control?
The answer was pretty simple. Just like the way a 5 year old is taught everything else. With patience, with love, and with lots of practice. And they knew that the world is not ready for someone like me.
"Emma, I am just worried that–this could get their attention towards us. And you are well aware of the life that we had left behind."
"That's not going to happen. We made a vow to give Mia a normal life. We knew the moment we made this decision. That this was coming one way or another."
"I know, but this is too early. Don't you think?"
"It doesn't matter now. She's here with us and we made a vow for her to have a normal life."
The next morning, mom takes me shopping for new measuring cups–plastic ones this time, "Just to be safe." But she also sits me down for the first of what would become thousands of conversations about control, responsibility, and the importance of being careful with my strength.
"Your abilities are like a superpower," she tells me as we practice opening jars very, very gently. "And what do we know about superpowers?"
"They're supposed to help people."
"That's right, and what else?"
I think hard. "That we have to be careful with them."
"Very good, and?"
This one takes me longer. "Umm... they make us special, but they don't make us better than other people."
Mom beams at me. "Exaclty. Your strength is a gift, Mia. But it's what you do with that gift matters, not how strong you are."
Over the following weeks and months, they slowly introduced new rules and lessons. We practice "gentle touches" with everything–door handles, pencils, hugs with friends. Dad builds me a special punching bag in the basement where I can let loose safely. Mom teaches me meditation techniques to help with emotional control, since my powers seem tied to my feelings.
Honestly, I'm glad that this happened as we bonded over these lessons and practices. Mom, dad and me, we developed a special connection over these lessons and the time we spent together.
They never made me feel like a freak or a danger. Instead, they frame everything as an adventure, a special training program that only I get to participate in.
"You're like a superhero in training," Dad tells me one evening as we're working on control exercises. "But even superheroes need to learn how to use their powers responsibly."
"Would I be a real superhero someday?"
"You can be anything you want to be," Mom says from the doorway, where she's been watching us practice. "Hero, teacher, scientist, artist–anything. Your powers don't define you, sweetheart. Your choices do."
Looking back now, I realize how incredible they were. Two ordinary people, suddenly faced with raising a child who could probably lift their car by the time she was ten, and they never once made me feel like I was too much to handle.
They researched everything they could about enhanced individuals. They adapted our home to accommodate my growing strength. They practiced conversations about how to handle questions from teachers and friends.
Most importantly, they loved me unconditionally while teaching me that my abilities came with responsibilities.
"Those who hold power must also bear the weight of responsibility," Dad would say, reminding me that I hold the power and I also bear the responsibility of using this power. And not to hurt anyone but to protect the weak.
They kept their promise to protect me, to help me grow up as normally as possible despite my abnormal abilities. For fourteen years, they were my shields against a world that might not understand what I was.
They taught me that being different wasn't something to be ashamed of–it was something to be responsible about.
And now they're gone, murdered by someone who just kills for pleasure. Or for money.
But their lessons remain. Their love remains.
And their belief that I could use my gifts to help people, to make the world better, to stand up for what's right–that remains too.
---
I blink away tears as the memory fades, bringing me back to my dorm room, back to the present , back to the choice I made.
My laptop screen has gone dark while I was lost in the past. I tap the trackpad, and the Prometheus Academy confirmation page reappears.
Please expect a response within 24 hours.
My phone buzzes with a text form Jessica: How are you holding up? Do you need anything?
I stare at the message for a long moment before typing back: I'm okay. Thank you for being here for me."
Of course, as I said nothing has changed. We are still the same old friends we were as always. And whether you move out of here I am still going to be there for you whenever you need.
I look around my dorm room–at the engineering textbooks stacked on my desk, the MIT sweatshirt hanging on my chair, the acceptance letter from the mechanical engineering department that I'd been so proud of just a few months ago.
I set the phone aside and lean back in my desk chair, looking around the room that's been home for the past year and a half. Jessica and I had decorated it together during freshman orientation–fairy lights strung around the windows, photos of our families on the bulletin board, her collection of coffee mugs cluttering the mini-fridge.
I get up and start pulling photos off the board. Most of them are of me with Mom and Dad–Christmas mornings, birthdays, the day they drove me to MIT for the first time. In every single photo, they're beaming with pride.
I find the picture from my high school graduation, where I'm standing between them in my cap and gown. Mom had cried during the entire ceremony, and Dad kept whispering "That's my girl" every time they called my name for another academic award.
"I'm going to make you proud," I whisper to their faces in the photograph. "I promise."
My laptop chimes with an incoming email. My heart skips a beat when I see the sender: Prometheus Academy Admissions.
I click on it with shaking fingers.
Dear Miss Santos,
Thank you for your application to Prometheus Academy. After reviewing your academic records, ability assessment, and personal statement, we are pleased to offer you immediate admission to our program.
We were deeply moved by your circumstances and your desire to channel your grief into purpose. Professor Stone has personally reviewed your application and expressed interest in having you in his Enhanced Criminal Justice program. He believes your motivation and background make you an ideal candidate for specialized training in enhanced law enforcement.
Given the time-sensitive nature of your situation, we are prepared to have you begin classes as early as next Monday, should you choose to accept this offer. All necessary arrangements can be made for your housing, meal plan, and course registration within 48 hours of your acceptance.
We understand this is a difficult time for you, but we hope that Prometheus Academy can provide you with both the training you seek and the support you need. Our counselling services are available to all students, and Dr. Hearst specialized in helping students who have experienced traumatic loss.
Please reply to this email within 24 hours if you wish to accept our offer. Someone from our student services office will contact you immediately to begin the enrollment process.
Once again, our deepest condolences for your loss. We look forward to helping you honor your parents' memory by becoming the hero they believed you could be.
Sincerely, Dr. Helena Dean of Admissions Prometheus Academy
I read the email three times, my heart pounding harder with each pass.
They want me. Not only they want me, but they're fast-tracking my admission because they understand what I'm going through. Professor Stone–the expert in enhanced criminal justice–wants me in his program.
At the back of my mind I was also debating with the thought. Rumours I have heard.
Do they really understand my grief, do they really get what I am going through. Or is this just a play to use me and turn me into a weapon. Are they having an agenda of their own, that I might get roped into.
I won't know for sure until I get into the Academy. And besides, there is no other way I can get the resources and learn how to track and hunt down Scorcher. So it looks like I don't have a choice of anykind here.
Here goes nothing.
I hit reply and type quickly, before I can second-guess myself.
Dear Dr. Helena,
I accept your offer of admission to Prometheus Academy. I'm prepared to begin classes as early as next Monday if that's possible.
Thank you for expediting my application and for Professor Stone's personal attention. I'm eager to begin training and to learn everything your program can teach me about enhanced criminal justice.
I understand this is an unconventional path, but I believe it's the right one. My parents taught me that those who hold power must also bear the weight of responsibility. And I'm ready to take on that responsibility.
Please let me know what steps I need to take to complete the enrollment process.
Sincerely, Mia Santos
I send the email and immediately receive an auto-reply confirming that someone from student services will contact me within the hour.
My phone rings almost immediately. The caller ID shows a number I don't recognize.
"Hello?"
"Is this Mia Santos? This is Jennifer Walsh from Prometheus Academy student services. Congratulations on your acceptance!"
The representative seemed lively, and full of energy.
"Thank you. I… I can't quite believe it's real yet."
"I understand this is all happening very quickly. Dr. Helena asked me to personally handle your enrollment to make the transition as smooth as possible. Do you have a few minutes to go over the logistics?"
"Yes, absolutely."
"Wonderful. First, housing. We have a private room available in the upperclassman dormitory, which would give you more privacy during this difficult time. Does that sound acceptable?"
"That sounds perfect, actually."
"Excellent. Now, for course registration. Professor Stone has recommended a specialized track that focuses on enhanced criminal justice, investigative techniques, and advanced combat training. You'll also take the standard courses in power development and control theory. Does this align with your goals?"
At that moment there was only one goal, that I could think of finding Scorcher, and making him pay for what he had done.
"It sounds exactly like what I need."
"Perfect. Your class schedule will be sent to you via email tonight. Now, for practical matters–when can you arrive on campus?"
I look around my dorm room again. At the life I'm about to leave behind.
"How about this weekend? I need a few days to wrap things up here at MIT and pack my belongings."
"That works perfectly. I'll email you a complete arrival packet with campus maps, dormitory information, and a welcome schedule. Is there anything else you need from us right now?"
"Actually, yes. Is there a counselling department? The acceptance email mentioned Dr. Hearst."
"Absolutely. Dr. Hearst specialized in trauma counselling for enhanced individuals. She's helped many of our students process difficult experiences. Would you like me to schedule an appointment for your first week?"
"Yes, please."
"Done. Miss Santos, I know this is an overwhelming time for you, but I want you to know that everyone at Prometheus Academy is committed to helping you succeed. You're not going through this alone."
From the time Officer Grey told me my parents had died in fire. Up till now, this was the first time. I had tears of relief, not from rage or grief but from relief. These are the tears of relief, of hope, of possibility.
"Thank you," I managed to say. "That means more than you know."
"We'll see you this weekend. Safe travels."
After I hang up, I sit in the quiet of my dorm room and let myself feel something I haven't felt in days: determination without despair.
I'm going to Prometheus Academy. I'm going to learn everything Professor Stone can teach me about tracking enhanced criminals. I'm going to develop my abilities beyond just raw strength and basic flight.
And then I'm going to find Scorcher.
But more than that, I'm going to become what Mom and Dad always believed I could be: someone who uses her power to protect others, to prevent other families from experiencing the loss that's torn my world apart.
I pull out my phone and dial Jessica's number.
"Mia? What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong. Actually, something's right for the first time in days."
"What do you mean?"
"I got into the school I applied to. I'm leaving this weekend."
"This weekend? That's so fast!"
"I know. But it's the right choice, Jess. For the first time since my parents died, I feel like I know what I'm supposed to do."
"And what's that?"
I look at the photo of my parents on my desk, at their proud, loving faces.
"I'm going to make them proud. I'm going to become someone who protects people instead of failing them."
"Mia, you didn't fail your parents."
"Yes, I did. But I'm not going to fail anyone else. I'm going to make sure of that."
There's a pause before Jessica responds. "I don't completely understand what's happening, but I can hear it in your voice. You sound... different. Stronger."
"I feel different. Like I'm finally becoming who I was meant to be."
"Then I'm happy for you. Scared, but happy."
"Don't be scared. Be proud. I'm going to do something important, Jess. Something that matters."
"You already matter, Mia. You've always mattered."
"I know. But now I'm going to matter for the right reasons."
After we say goodbye, I stand up and walk to my window, looking out at the MIT campus where I'd planned to spend the next three years earning my engineering degree.
That person—the Mia who wanted to design bridges and buildings—feels like someone from another lifetime. That Mia had parents to make proud with her academic achievements. That Mia believed the world was a safe place where good people were protected and bad people faced consequences.
This Mia knows better.
This Mia knows that sometimes, if you want justice, you have to fight for it yourself.
I start pulling clothes from my dresser and folding them into my suitcase. Each item I pack feels like another step away from my old life and toward whatever comes next.
Tomorrow, I'll withdraw from MIT officially. I'll close my bank account here and transfer everything to the account near Prometheus Academy. I'll say goodbye to professors who believed in me, to classmates who never knew the real me, to a future I'm choosing to abandon.
But tonight, I make one final promise to my parents' memory:
I will find Scorcher. I will stop him from hurting anyone else. And I will prove that enhanced individuals like me aren't weapons to be feared—we're guardians to be trusted.
Mom and Dad raised me to believe that my strength was a gift to be shared, not a burden to bear.
It's time to start sharing it with the world.
Even if the world isn't ready for someone like me.
Because ready or not, Mia Santos is coming.
And she's not the scared little girl who broke measuring cups anymore.
She's something much more dangerous to people like Scorcher.
She's someone with nothing left to lose, and everything to fight for.