POWERED DOWN

Charlee's POV

I gazed around my living room, feeling a sense of emptiness wash over me. The vast, opulent space seemed to swallow all signs of life. The walls, painted a sterile white, stretched up to a ceiling that felt miles away, giving the room a cavernous feel. The floor, made of polished black marble, gleamed under the faint light that filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

I settled into my couch, a long, low-slung affair upholstered in a neutral beige color that seemed to blend seamlessly into the background. I'd spent countless hours on this couch, binge-watching TV shows and hiding from the world. But now, as I sat here, feeling sorry for myself, I realized just how empty my life was.

The room was devoid of any personal touches – no family photos, no artwork, no sentimental trinkets. The only sound was the faint hum of the air conditioning, which seemed to underscore the room's sterile, lifeless atmosphere.

My eyes drifted to the massive flat-screen TV dominating the wall. I'd been watching the latest season of Woman of Steel, smiling a bit as Nxly grasped the humanity totem, but even that couldn't hold my attention. I'd died a week ago, and the memory still lingered, making it impossible for me to relax. My mind was a jumble of emotions and the lack of sleep wasn't helping. I'd been too busy cataloging my assets, trying to figure out if any of my employees had taken advantage of me while I was...gone. James, my former associate, was behind bars, awaiting trial, but everything else seemed to be in order.

My manager had sent me home, insisting I needed rest, and for once, I agreed. My company was running smoothly, like a well-oiled machine, and the private investigator I'd hired was still digging into who had ordered my death.

As I sat there, feeling sorry for myself, I realized I needed a life. I needed friends. The irony wasn't lost on me – I'd been so afraid of dying that I'd forgotten how to live.

I thought about my life, about how I'd been so afraid of dying that I'd forgotten how to live. My public image was that of a party animal, but the truth was far from it. My label had even hired a stunt double to make appearances at clubs, since I refused to leave my couch.

A sigh escaped my lips as a headache began to form. Maybe it was time to catch some sleep. And if I died again? Well, my life was already pretty shitty. I was the epitome of the sad billionaire, who had superpowers. Or more appropriately had once had superpowers.

I slumped back into my couch, feeling like I'd been punched in the gut. The powers I thought I had, the abilities that had made me feel like I was invincible, were gone. Vanished. It was like they'd never existed at all.

I thought back to that night, the night I'd died and come back. I'd been able to do things, impossible things. I'd healed from injuries that would have killed anyone else. I'd teleported three times and had strength that was superhuman.

But now, nothing. I was just a normal person again, with normal limitations. It was like my body had been a vessel for something more, something greater, and now that something was gone.

I remembered James's reaction, his eyes wide with fear as he'd stumbled backward, screaming about monsters. The police had thought he was crazy, but I knew the truth. I'd seen the footage, the security cameras that had captured my...abilities.

It wasn't just James who had witnessed it. There were others, people who had seen me do things that couldn't be explained. And now, I was left wondering if it had all been some kind of fluke, a one-time thing that would never happen again.

I slumped back into my couch, feeling defeated. Maybe all I needed to do was put myself in the face of danger, and see if my powers would return. I wanted them back, not because I wanted to be some kind of hero, but because I was tired of being afraid of dying. I already had enough shit on my plate.

I closed my eyes, picturing my bedroom, the one place in my mansion that felt truly lived in. It was my sanctuary, where I'd dreamed up many of my innovations. I focused all my energy on willing myself to teleport, imagining the walls closing in on me like they had that day. I counted to five, and then...nothing.

I opened my eyes to find myself still on the couch. "Fuck it," I swore, tossing the remote aside. I stood up, feeling a mix of frustration and disappointment, and made my way out of the living room, heading towards my bedroom. Maybe those powers had never existed at all. Maybe they were just a product of my overactive imagination. The thought was disheartening, but I couldn't shake the feeling that there was some truth to it.