××× i'm a paper doll, you can t e a r m e u p, × The teenage girl gripped at the black gloves that covered both of her hands. What kind of powers do you have? Her heart beat quickened, and she gave one look at Adam before closing her eyes shut. Do I tell them? she thought to herself, immediately throwing the thought away from her mind. They'll find out soon enough anyway. Just tell them. But something inside of her refused to let Tatum explain what she was; how she really saw herself. "I'm nineteen," she managed to reply, a slight stutter in her voice. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't still taken aback by this question. × Attempting to compose herself, she stood up from off the bar stool and paced back and forth. Stopping with her back facing the group, her eyes darted for something to pinpoint on - to put her into some sort of daze. Landing on a fly, Tatum watched its wings buzz furiously. It would fly from one spot to another, and then back to the previous one. She wondered what it was doing, trying to get her mind off of everything, but nothing could shake the desperate desire to explain what type of power she was capable of. × "I don't really know where to start," she began, the previous stutter she had suddenly disappearing. Instead of tearing the band-aid off slowly, she wanted to rip it off fast. "I was eleven, in New York City, and alone. I had run away, and to this day I don't remember why, but I wish I hadn't." Every memory of that day came flooding into her mind, and before she knew it, she felt her cheeks begin to get wet with tears. Still facing away from the group, though, she hoped they wouldn't notice. "But I touched a man on his arm, and I watched him die." The band-aid was off. They all knew. "I kill people just by touching them." She let out a stifled laugh. Hearing herself say that almost made it seem unreal and that this was all a joke.