[ WP ] You live a a world in which you can be granted any superpower in times of emergency . There have always been strict laws about not using such powers at any other time , with no explication as to why . Today you find out what happens when you do so .

My eyes stung. A trickle of blood had found its path down my cheek, gathering at one eye then falling to the pavement in a steady drip. I… was alive, at the very most. But I wasn ’ t sure how long that would last. 
 
 
 The shrapnel had pinned me to the ground through my shoulder, and the reminders of what used to be a car rested on top. The pain sharpened my senses, made every sensation unbearable. 
 
 
 I needed to escape, but moving would only make it worse. I peered outside, view half-obscured by panes of shattered glass. 
 
 
 “ Anyone out there? ” I called, voice rasping with the exertion. From my position upside down, I could see the remnants of a black car, in a state much worse than mine. It had gone up in flames. “ Hello? ” I yelled. “ Help me! Please, anyone! ” 
 
 
 The small pool of blood had collected under my head, and I could see my face reflected in it. Contorted with terror. 
 
 
 “ Is anyone there? Please, God, I ’ m afraid to die! ” 
 
 
 Agonizing minutes passed, and my voice was gone. I was going to die, in the middle of fucking nowhere. I was alone. 
 
 
 Something in me snapped. A burble of laughter sprung up in me, hysteric and crazed. I wanted to cry, to scream, to do anything. It dissolved into a coughing fit. 
 
 
 My bloodied fingers curled around the piece of shrapnel, and without thinking, I yanked it out with an agonizing scream. I grit my teeth, pushing upwards with my hands and feet to pull the pieces of the car off me. Broken glass bit into my palms. I pushed it to one side, and the warped frame of the car skidded several metres away. I was… alive. 
 
 
 I lay on the cool pavement, closed my eyes, and slept deeply. 
 
 
 The wail of police sirens woke me with a jolt. The day had drawn dark, and the strobing lights of the police cars hurt my eyes. I sat up. A burly man in a police uniform stepped out of the car and approached me, pointing to the car wreck. He spoke, but I couldn ’ t care less. I wasn ’ t listening. 
 
 
 My body was white-hot. Every move I made was effortless and measured. I ran straight at the man, knocking him onto the ground. His eyes widened with surprise. 
 
 
 My hands were already at his neck. His face bulged. His struggles didn ’ t hurt me, and my grip stayed firm. His pulse fluttered under my fingers like a dying bird. 
 
 
 My back stung. I turned, and saw his partner- a tall brunette, gun levelled at my head. The bullet laid on the ground, smoking. With a free hand, I touched my back. It was unblemished. 
 
 The man had stopped struggling. The officer screamed, firing a few shots into my chest. I staggered back with the impact, and felt my ribs. Nothing broken- only the bullets lying in the dust. I turned to her. 
 
 
 
 
 & nbsp; 
 
 
 & nbsp; 
 
 It was over quickly. 
 
 
 
 & nbsp; 
 
 
 & nbsp; 
 
 
 
 I left the mangled bodies and cars at the road, and started walking. My footprints left red imprints on the road. 
 
 
 I... was alive. 
 
 
 & nbsp; 
 
 Unedited, just trying to get into the habit of writing. 
 
 [ ] ( # s `` Powers make you homicidal. Permanently.'' )
