It smelled like the grass after rain. That’s what she noticed first. It reminded her of running through the pouring rain with her family, one lap around the house, as a sort of impromptu tradition. It managed to stick for years each time it rained or snowed. The memory should make her smile—it would’ve if she were sane. But it didn’t. She just curled deeper into herself.

There were no walls she could see around her. She could not see the floor. She could barely see herself. It wasn’t particularly cold where she was, but neither was it warm. And it definitely wasn’t wet. So she didn’t know why it smelled of sweet, soaked grass.

Her toes started to burn from carrying the weight of her entire body as she sat in a fetal position. She rocked a little back and forth on them, hoping to ease away the pain. She didn’t exactly have the strength to move much more than that.

She untucked one arm and held her hand out. Her eyes stared hard at the lines in her palm, as if they might tell her why.

As if they might give her comfort.

She could hardly see the lines in her palm anyway. It was so dark where she was. How could something she couldn’t see give her comfort, anyway?

She curled up again, pressing her forehead to her knees. Her long, red hair fell around her shoulders. She rocked back and forth on her toes. She wasn’t even sure if it was tile or hardwood underneath her feet. All she could tell is that it smelled sweet. Like summers gone by, like friends who traded her away. Like the terror and the fear that overwhelmed her as she lay in bed, the window cracked, and the smell coating the air in her room. It was dark then, too.

She stopped rocking and ran a hand under her nose, sniffling under her breath. God-forbid anyone knowing how hurt or broken she was. She couldn’t have that. She couldn’t deal with that. The pity. The loathing. How some would treat her as a child and others would slap her wrist and tell her to buck up. She couldn’t handle that.

Her toes burned and she realized she had stopped rocking back and forth a while ago. She numbly wondered when.

“Am I doomed to fight these battles alone?” she whispered into her jeans. “Am I doomed to watch people suffer around me, unable to do anything about it?” For a long time no one answered.

Then one voice spoke up from the darkness: “Have you forgotten we’re here?”

The girl looked up, green eyes stained with tears to see the first of them all step out of the darkness. Though there was no light anywhere to be seen, the girl could see the woman as if it were midday.

The woman wore armor. Thick around vital areas and looser around joints. She smiled her side-ways grin—the one she had gotten from her creator.

“Hey.” Jade said.

“And you call me a sap,” said another voice. A teenager stepped from the darkness, also clearly visible. A sash was tied around her eyes.

One-by-one, the girl’s companions stepped out from the darkness to form a semi-circle around her. Some were tall. Some were short. Some had silver eyes while others had a deep and vibrant blue. Some were fully formed while others were blurred, as if being viewed on a hot day from miles away. Some had wings while others had scales. Some were human. Some were not.

Regardless of hero or villain status, all stood shoulder to shoulder, gazing down at their crippled creator. Some had soft smiles on their lips. Others held determined glares, though they were not unkind. A few of them held hands.

The girl sniffed, eyes flicking from one to the other.

“She did forget about us,” said Aris, a short, thick-boned woman grumbled. She crossed her arms with a tired smile. “Thanks a lot, creator.”

“I didn’t…” Creator started.

“You totally did,” Alex said, a teenager who held a cigarette between her lips. The red tip of the cig glowed. “I’m a little hurt.”

“You didn’t think you could come to us?” asked Samuel in a small voice, his soft blue eyes filled with concern. “Haven’t we always been here for you? Hasn’t He?”

“Miss,” Thaddeous started as he rolled up the cuffs on his suit, “I thought higher of you.”

“Yeah, so did I,” Seymouir said. His black wings flared out a bit with agitation. “Have we ever truly left you?”

“Listen, jack-ass.” Jade sighed, rubbing the soft area underneath her chin. “Come running to us and you’ll always find Him, okay? And together, you won’t ever feel hopeless.”

“You promise?” Creator asked.

Jade fixed her with a stern gaze. Together, every single one of them spoke one single word:

“Yes.”

Creator thought she felt grass beneath her feet.