I straightened it gently and sat down on the hood of the car, lighting it with my Zippo. It was good, harsh and stale and deep in my lungs. I just smoked and stared at the dark pool of urine trying to spoil the floor of that garage. Somewhere above us tires squealed, but that was the only sound I heard and it was lonely. It was cold down there, and a little damp, and my cigarette burned down all too quick.I looked through the car quietly, just in case the woman woke up. The only thing in the glove compartment was some papers, registration and insurance, crap like that. Nancy Parker was the name on everything, the address someplace in Utah, Salt Lake City. The car had Utah plates too. I hadn't noticed before, but I got out to look cause I was curious. A map of Washington state, with maps of Seattle and Spokane and a couple other places on the back. There wasn't any writing or anything on it. I wondered if she was a Mormon or something, they were weird.I found the woman's purse, Nancy,. "So come on, big man. Here I am. You want me? Then FUCKING GET ME!" Steve roared at his father, feeling the pressure inside of him crack, a torrent of mental energy directed at the man who had made his life a living hell before him.Steve's father clutched his chest, his eyes widening at shock. With the pressure released inside of Steve's head, the realization of what he was doing hit him hard. His father fell to the floor, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. After a moment, he stopped moving.Steve stood there for a moment, then started to move. He put his hands against his father's neck, checking for a pulse. He had CPR training from a health class, and tried frantically to remember what to do. No pulse. He grabbed the phone, quickly dialing 9-1-1.By the time that the ambulance had arrived, his mother had awoken. His father was declared dead at the hospital. The coroner would later rule a heart attack is what killed him. Steve knew better. It was his rage, and his power, that.
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