By Ariel Baska — As a child, I was terrified of my father. Not of him yelling at me, or grounding me, or putting me in a corner. I was afraid that when he drank, I might not wake up the next day. 

As a child, you know more than others give you credit for. You know when someone, someone you love and someone that loves you, could actually kill you in a fit of drunken rage. But as a child, you don't know how to process that information. It must be your fault. You must have done SOMEthing. 

You know this in your bones, but you are absolutely certain that you have the power to fix it. There must be magical words or rituals that you have forgotten, or never thought of at all. You walk as silently as possible with even, careful steps. You dart past mirrors because to even catch a glimpse of yourself might cause The Bad Thing to happen. You walk endlessly in circles on the patterns in the rug in the hope that this will prevent The Bad Thing. You carefully consider every inflection of every word, worried that you might wake the dragon, and certain that the words have the power to spell the beast.

In reality, these rituals, these words don't matter. Whether or not you spilled milk, or talked too loudly, or were just sitting there, the enemy you lived with, the enemy you loved, would still lash out violently. He would never kill you, but you would stay perpetually tethered to your childhood, even as you moved out and on with your life. Even after he died, you would keep reliving this agony of magical thinking. 

The beauty of the comic Finger Guns is how writer Justin Richards, artist Val Halvorson, and the rest of the creative team manifest that magical thinking. In the book, the heroes have two fingers that can solve all of their problems, they're sure of it. They can create emotional responses as easily as a flick of the wrist. They can control the people around them, compel them to change with a mystical flourish, right?

The tone begins light and airy as Wes, a mischievous latchkey kid, explores his abilities. As soon as he meets Saudade, however, the tone begins to shift. First, she is jealous of Wes' relationship with his absent father, then we learn why Saudade has so much hesitation about going home. Her abilities are more than parlor tricks to her — they are her survival. She has been pacifying her father to prevent tragedy, putting her faith in the ritual. 

The choice to explore a child's perspective on domestic abuse within the framework of a super-powered mythos was deeply powerful for me. Every exchange between the enraged father and the heroic Saudade rang true, and they also felt deeply cathartic. That catharsis would have been valueless though, if the book had wrapped with some kind of happily ever after ending. I could never have responded to that, not as a child, nor as an adult reliving childhood trauma. The ending of this story, however, gives closure but also feels real and earned. It’s a realistic choice for a realistic character. 

As stories of childhood trauma go though, this one is remarkably good-looking, and never grim. The lines by Halverson are neatly streamlined, drawing attention to the simple but effective character designs, deploying straight-forward visual language that would be easy for kids to decode. The coloring by Rebecca Nalty deliberately plays on two tones in particular, the blue and the orange/red that represent the primary controlling emotional forces in this book. Taylor Esposito also continues to demonstrate his prowess at lettering with precision and emotional force. 

I've spent days struggling to write this review, as this book was not simply a “recommended read” but something I needed, both as a kid, and now as an adult. Simply knowing I wasn't alone would have helped back then, but this book is emotionally useful for anyone who's been through domestic trauma. I'd recommend it for middle school and up, but when I say up, I mean up. Everyone who loves someone should read this book. Everyone should understand what domestic abuse looks like. Everyone should empathize with those who suffer every day. Everyone should know how to step in and help when you see the signs of domestic abuse. This is the book I wish I had read as a child, and this is the book I want everyone to read now.

Finger Guns, Vol. 1 Trade Paperback Collection

Finger Guns, Vol. 1
Writer: Justin Richards
Artist: Val Halvorson
Colorist: Rebecca Nalty
Letterer: Taylor Esposito
Publisher: Vault Comics
Price: $17.99
Two troubled teenagers discover they can manipulate emotions by firing finger guns. There will be laughs. There will be tears. There will be uncomfortable teen feelings and angst. Oh yeah... and chaos. So much chaos.
Buy It Digitally: Finger Guns, Vol. 1

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Ariel Baska pretends to know many things. And yeah, she has a pop culture podcast, Ride the Omnibus. Which may or may not be exactly as pretentious as you think.