Five Year Gone (Paire) Part 3/?

Sandra trudged slowly up the stairs of her apartment building, pulling her keys from her pocket as she approached the door. She was weary after a long day on her feet at the diner and wanted nothing more than to take a long, hot shower and to curl up in bed.

She stripped her clothes off on the way to the bathroom. Flicking on the light and the fan to the tiny room, Sandra entered quickly and with a purpose, not bothering to shut the door behind her. Reaching in between the curtain and the wall she turned the water on, testing the temperature with her hand before taking it out. She finished removing her clothing and tested the water one more time before climbing in to the shower.

Hot water cascaded down her back, and she let out a small moan.  She allowed herself to relax for a moment; it was a rare occurrence, Sandra letting her guard down. Although she led a seemingly ordinary life, every moment of it was spent glancing over her shoulder. Some would call it paranoia, but she knew that it prudent to be cautious. Her ability had turned her into a criminal in everyone’s eyes. It made her angry that she had to hide; it wasn’t like she’d asked to be different.

She stepped out of the shower and onto the pink bath rug, wrapping a soft white towel around her frame and glancing at the mirror over the sink. Straight brown hair fell where curly blonde had once laid, and she lifted a remorseful strand in front of her eyes. They had done everything they could to hide her identity, her father and she, and dying her hair had been the pivotal first step. The flattening iron was sitting on the sink, still plugged in from that morning. Sandra stared at her reflection, the way she did most every night, trying to figure out where she ended and her alias began.

“My name is Sandra.” she whispered. “Sandra. Claire Bennet is dead. Sandra.” Her image never faltered, but she liked to remind herself of who she truly was, especially after ‘creepy guy with the glasses’ visited. “He’s just a customer, and I’m just a waitress.”

Sandra entered her modest bedroom and sauntered over to the closet. On her way she pressed the power button to her television set. The president was on again, making a speech in New York City. Sandra paused at the closet door, doubling back and sitting on the edge of her bed.

“My fellow Americans, fellow New Yorkers, please let us take a moment to remember the men, women and children who were taken from us five years ago. Five bells for the five years of sorrow.”

Five bells resounded loudly.  She rubbed her eyes with her fingertips. The speech was pre-recorded. It had occurred hours ago, but she hadn’t heard it yet, and listened intently as her father spoke.

 “Sacrifice, is something that we’re all too familiar with. As you all know, I lost my brother to this enemy, five years ago today. We’ve all lost, we’ve all mourned, and we’ve all had to become soldiers, heroes, protecting one another from the gravest of dangers.  This is a battle that none of us wanted, one that we entered with a heavy heart. Knowing that the enemy was ourselves. We’ve won battles the world over not only against those that would do us harm…”

A tear streamed down Sandra’s face. The thought of Peter sent her façade crashing down. Her Uncle, her hero, her best friend, had been killed that day by Sylar, and it seemed that the world refused to let her forget it. She’d lost the only thing that was really important to her, and wished more than anything that she had the power to teleport herself back and start over. Hiro Nakamura could do it, maybe she should go looking for him again. ‘No,’ she told herself. ‘Nothing can change the way things are. Nothing can make this any different than it is. Your name is Sandra Butler. You’re a waitress in Midland, Texas. You need to let the past go.’

Nathan continued his speech. “But we do not forget the price that we’ve had to pay, the laws that we’ve had to pass to keep our citizens safe, to preserve our way of life. Our hope has always been that a great peace is on the horizon; that one day wounds would be healed and salvation could be found. And I’m here to tell you that that day is today. I’m proud to announce that we have developed a treatment, a method to reverse the genetic code. The first clinics will open next month across the world and soon, we can begin lifting restrictions. Cities and families can be reunited and we can finally live without fear. We’ve been vigilant, we have been uncompromising, and our efforts have paid off. The nightmare is over. The world is safe.”

Sandra hurled the remote at the television, effectively turning it off. A treatment? A cure? They weren’t sick, yet they were hunted as if they carried a deadly virus. Sandra grabbed the knife from her bedside drawer and drew it across the skin of her arm. The flesh healed immediately, as if it hadn’t ever been torn in the first place. At least she could still find solace in the intangible pain she was able to inflict on herself. She dragged the blade again, deeper this time, so she could really feel the twinge that only sharp steel could provide. She carelessly threw the knife back in its drawer and watched her arm stitch itself up again.

There was a pain inside of her, an ache deep in her chest that made her want to carve her own heart out and lay it down on the bedside table. She’d tried that before, however, and all it managed to do was create a mess. It did nothing for the metaphysical knife stuck in her heart.

 Sandra finally gave in to the nagging voice in her head and rushed back to the closet, pulling a small wooden box off the top shelf and placing it on the bed, reclaiming her place next to it. Still wearing nothing but a towel she opened the lid carefully, as if it were a sacred tabernacle that could only be handled with the upmost care. She reached inside and gently lifted the items the box contained. Most were loose photographs of her parents and brother, her friends from high school, and of course the family pet, Mr. Muggles. Underneath was her sophomore yearbook, which she took out with great care. The binding was worn with corners turned and pages falling out.

Once all of the contents of the box had been removed, Sandra pulled out the false bottom to reveal a 5” x 8” silver frame. In it resided a picture of her biological father on his wedding day accompanied by his younger brother. Both wore tuxedoes, although Nathan’s jacket looked as if it had been discarded long ago, while his best man’s bow tie had been undone in a rather messy fashion. Both men had huge smiles on their faces, as if neither had a care in the world except enjoying the moment.  Sandra ran her thumb over the side of her Uncle’s face. She missed Peter. He had known her as no other could. Only here, in the confines of her room, would she admit to herself that he ever existed, but clutching this picture – the only one she had of him – made him feel closer to her.

Sandra remembered that day so clearly. It was the day that she and Peter had first met. She smiled through her tears, hugging the picture frame to her chest and allowing her flashback to continue playing in her head.

Sandra smiled, thinking back to that fateful day. “If only we’d known what we were getting ourselves into.” she whispered to herself. “Maybe we could have changed it all.” Sandra gazed lovingly at the photograph one more time before returning it to its hiding place and crawling into bed. ‘I’m sorry, Peter.’ was the last thought that passed her mind before she drifted off to sleep.