When I was a kid, before the accident, I’d lay awake at night, listening to the sirens. I liked to put stories to them. Try and figure out what they were for. Ambulance or cops, robbery or fire. I don’t know, just a stupid game. But after I lost my sight, after my…abilities developed, I realized how many sirens there actually were. How much this city suffered, every single night.
You’ve been running around doing this since you were a kid?
No. I tried not to fight, to make my dad proud, to block it out. The sirens, the pain, the fear, all of it, strangling Hell’s Kitchen. For years, I buried my head and turned away. Then, one night, right after we quit Landman and Zack, I heard it.
Little girl, crying in her bed in a building down the block. Her father liked to go to her room late at night, when his wife was asleep. I called Child Services, like you’re supposed to, but the mom, she wouldn’t believe it. Said it wasn’t true. And the dad, he was smart. He made sure…what he did, how he did it, didn’t leave a mark. The law couldn’t do anything to help that little girl, but I could.
I knew his routine, waited till he was alone…
He spent the next month in a hospital, eating through a straw, and I never slept better.