She turned around and stared at the black lenses and thought of the first time she’d seen her without them. The naked skin was a tracery of scars around deep hollows, where tattered flesh remained.
El had only been five years old when she’d asked her grandma the question that preyed on her, every minute of every day. Even then, she had known enough about her powers to realise that her life, and any life with their ability, wasn’t an easy one. She’d touched her grandma’s scars and asked her if she’d cut her power out.