I've discarded that God thing as a dream. But it all felt so real. I still can't shake it. I mean, if it was real, is this gonna be an "Evan Almighty" thing where Morgan Freeman is gonna pop up at the worst and most random of times and tell me what to do? 'Cause that would suck. Maybe the entire thing was a dream. Maybe I'm in a coma, and none of this is real. That would also suck. At least I'm fast. Like, really fast.

The light pops up in my living room.

"This is not a dream," it said. "You are awake, not in a coma. This is the actuality of your life. I granted you and David the gift of speed, and--"

"Mine is a gift! His is my curse. He's ruining my life. I'm living in constant fear, there's no telling when he'll come to try and kill me, and I don't know how to control my abilities! How in the name of all that is holy is this okay!?" I shout.

The light sits in silence for a second.

"I'll come back when you're ready to talk. If you're not dead by then, that is," it says.

I throw a glass bottle at the light just as it disappears, and the bottle explodes on contact with my wall. As if that was a cue, a S.W.A.T team kicks down my door, shouting at me to get on the ground, hands behind my head. I do as they say, glaring up at them to see several guns all aimed at my head. They shove me in the back of a S.W.A.T truck, handcuffed with my legs strapped down. I'm guessing they know what I can do.

They take me to the station and sit me down in an interrogation room, arms handcuffed to a silver table and legs strapped to my cold, metal chair. I sit in the room, staring at my reflection in a one-way window for nearly an hour. Eventually a woman walks in and sits down in the chair in front of me across the table.

"How do you do it?" she asks.

"Do what?" I reply.

"You know what," she says coldly. I sigh.

"I was a crippled war veteran up until quite recently. My friend, David Robinson, offered to get me one of the best surgeons money can buy, but I wasn't able to be fixed. I tried to to do it myself. I had David sneak into the hospital dressed as a nurse so he could get adrenaline for me.

We waited until a lightning storm came for me to try and get my legs back in working order. David came with me to Centennial Park and I injected my injured leg with adrenaline several times and connected myself to a metal pole and I was struck with lightning, along with David. I woke up on the ground, alone. I hopped in my wheelchair, got a cab home. It wasn't until I got back in my room when I figured out I was fast.

I went out to the track and ran laps for hours. David arrived, took out all the lights, got rid of civilians and chased me all the way home. He stared at me from the window, then left.

Then, a light popped up in my room and told me that it was the one who helped me. I'm not entirely sure who it was, but I have I good idea."

"Who do you think it was?" she asked.

"God."

She sighed.

"Tell me what actually happened. Now."

"You'd think that my story would be awfully specific for a liar, wouldn't you?" I ask.

"I'll come back when you're ready to answer truthfully," she said.

"That's exactly what God said," I call as she leaves the room. "Good God, Lemon," I quote from the hit TV series 30 Rock.

I wait for a while and she eventually comes back. She sits and stares at me for a second.

"Why should I believe all that crap you said a minute ago?" she asks.

"Why not?" I reply.

"Touché," she says. "But seriously. What if you are just a crackhead? But that does explain the security footage outside your house. The light thing I can't explain, though. The speed thing, well... that's a different story. I'm gonna hook you up to the lie detector and see what we can gather."

"That's not gonna work, I'm afraid," I tell her.

"And why is that?" she asks smugly.

"Heartbeat's too fast."

She does a devastating eye-roll and leaves, coming back with some bald dude in glasses comes in with the lie detector. He hooks it up, wraps the pump around my arm, pumps in the air, and settles down, staring at the lie detector.

"We're gonna start off with some simple questions. Umm... is your name Keith Williams?" she asks.

"Yupperdoo."

The heart monitor was silent. Both of the people sitting in front of me were astonished.

"I'm not a zombie. My heartbeat is too fast for that thing to read."

"Let me see your wrist," the lady says.

She puts two fingers on my wrist, feeling steadily for a heartbeat.

"Good lord," she says. "It's like the helicopter blades spinning."

"Oh, I know. I know. Now, you gonna help me break out of here, or what?" I propose.

She stands next to me for a second. She then sits back down. Immediately, she takes her gun, and smashed it across the face of the man next to her. She stands up, shoots my handcuffs and the ropes around my legs, then trains her gun on the door. As soon as it opens, I stand up sprint over, time frozen from my perspective. I take the first guy's pistol, take it apart, and throw each piece at the men behind him. I then take his glove off, and smack him in the face with it. I back up, across from him and the doorway. I run at him and jump up, using both legs to kick him into his comrades behind him. I back up, stand behind the lady that helped me, and go back to a normal speed as I watch those guys crash into each other. We both walk out the door.

One guy struggles to raise an arm, aiming a gun at me. I grab his arm, twist it and kick him in the face. I throw open the door, making it slam into one guy's leg, and slam it shut, right onto someone's elbow. I grab the lady, race out of the police station and run on back home. We both take in a deep breath once we're settled down.

"That... was amazing." she says.

"Oh, I know. I know."