Make Me Strong

"For once in your fucking life can you act like you're not so goddamn far above everyone else? Can you at least pretend you give any level of shit about other people?"

Broen was getting bolder now, if for no other reason than his anger was getting the better of him. He released his clenched fists and turned to look at Fredrick directly. Okay, that was a mistake. He barely held back a flinch.

"Yes. Fucking yes. I'm doing now what I wanted to do back then. Get into culinary school. I want to cook cause it's the thing I'm best at that doesn't involve superpowers. I was in that goddamn school for weeks while they chipped away at my fucking mind. And you didn't even notice I'd gone missing. Some caring, loving father. At least fucking Basilio noticed when his son went missing."

Broen sat back in his seat and huffed loudly. What did he want from all of this? He didn't want to feel fucking scared anymore. But he didn't know if he could do that, knowing that at any time Fredrick could swoop in and try to ruin everything he'd gotten here. He was petty enough for it after all.

"That's rough because that's what I want. I don't want him to just leave me alone. I want him to understand why I want nothing to do with him. To realize that maybe, just maybe, the split in our relationship is the fault of the grown-ass man and not the ten year old kid he fucking abused."

Broen opened his mouth a bit and then closed it. He gave an impassive shrug. "He's right. I'd have done the bare minimum and then blown my brains out on national TV. I had that planned out."

He looked at Fredrick, grimacing hard. "You were never a father. You never treated me like a son. I was some kind of child soldier to you. And you expect me to look at everyone else who didn't have their parents burning them and beating them and starving them and tell you it wasn't so bad. You didn't even do the bare minimum of what it fucking means to be a parent."

"What part of I was a fucking child don't you understand? What part of you have no right to martyr someone else for your fucking cause do you not understand? If you wanted to be a hero so much, you should have done what all good heroes do and fucking die!"

Broen was shouting now, standing up with both hands firmly the table. People stopped and turned to look at them, but for the most part turned away to ignore the outburst.

"I've done good here. Not just well. But good! I saved the lives of a dozen people when my workplace got attacked. I helped then police take down corruption in the force. I let a cop shoot me rather than let the Headmaster fully take me over. I lost my powers and worked my ass off to get new ones. I helped Zoraida learn to defend herself when her life was in danger. I helped Chloe Black stop a bunch of wild demon possessed animals. I have friends. I'm liked. I'm loved. And I did all of that without you because I was allowed to be what I fucking wanted to be!"

Broen's pupils narrowed severely and he had to hold himself back from flying across the table and strangling Fredrick right then and there. "NO! NO! You don't get to take credit for fucking ANYTHING! I am not a fucking hero. I'm just a decent human being. More decent than you ever were!"