Chapter 1: Awakening

  I run up the stairs, tears welling in my eyes. I‘m pretty sure that if someone tries to follow me, which I doubt, will fall thanks to my tears which, astoundingly, haven‘t flooded this goddamned too-many-stairs building. I notice the wooden door right in front of me and open it. This is my last moment on Earth, so I take in everything that I can see from the twentieth floor of this building. Because my life sucks, I don‘t want to live anymore. I can‘t think of a more hateful life than mine. I stand in the ledge of the roof and jump. I am quickly falling at the speed of 9.8 meters per second, or so did my Science teacher say in Monday‘s class this week. The floor quickly makes itself bigger as I am free-falling. I quickly hurtle to the ground. I close my eyes and wait for it and think on the rooftop. I remember its red, shiny flooring and those pipes intertwining now and then. And then...I sense something cold encircling me and then disappearing...

  After some ten seconds of continued fall, I frown, my eyes still closed. "Is it over?" I ask myself mentally. "See for yourself," a calm, deep, soothing male voice whispers in my head. I feel a stronger gust of air and open my eyes. The rooftop appears before my eyes. As soon as I open my eyes, I see the rooftop lurching towards me, or rather vice versa, since I am the one falling. I shout but quickly close my mouth considering how much dirt flies on this ugly, filthy city. I stop right in front of it, two inches of thin air separating the ground and me. I feel myself floating in a strange, still air. I fall face-first on the red, shiny gravel and stand up, cleaning my face, torso and legs from dirt. “What just happened?“ I say out loud. I decide to search for some clues and so I sit on the edge of the building. My thoughts have clarified, and so I am no longer thinking about committing suicide. I stare at the ground, deep in thought. After a short while, I notice the sun is almost disappearing, and, seeing as how little knowledge I’ve got about what happened, I run back towards my house, picking my things at the counter on the lobby. I take my backpack and lunchbox and run off, anxiety reaching over me, my heart racing really fast. My dark blue Nike backpack bobs on my back, my red lunchbox flailing in the air as I run home. 

  When I get home, my mom opens up, her eyes red from crying. She instantly hugs me and holds me tightly in her arms. I relish the moment, warm love filtering me. We both enter the house, closing the metal door and then opening the wooden door to enter the house. As soon as we enter, my father stands up.
  "What were you doing out of school all this time?!" He questions.
  I know I can't tell the truth, so instead, I say, "Well, I was visiting some friends from other schools." 
 Yeah, like my fellow friend death, I add in my mind. My mom looks at me and shakes her head.
  "You had us worried sick!" She shouts. "Did you even think on what we might've thought happened to you while you were gone?!"
  I notice her fear in her expressions, her tone of voice, her twitching eye, her every small movement.
  "I'm sorry, dad. I'm sorry, mom."
  I walk towards them and kiss them in their cheeks lightly.
 "Now go do your homework!" Dad commands.
  I take my backpack to my room, not wanting to be in the dining room, since there's where my brothers and I do our homework. I close the door leading to my room. It is, technically, the only male's room, yes, but I still close myself in. I couldn't care less if anyone knocked on the door at times like these. I sit on the floor and question myself on the latest activity of mine. It is quite incomprehensible that someone as me could simply appear back at the rooftop with a single image of it. I still remember my short, heavy breaths after it, though. I feel exhausted still, even after all the time that has happened after the really important, I consider it, incident. I mean, hell, I am creeped out after that little, or rather huge, incident. I am terribly scared, of course. Everyone would be at times like these. But now that I come to think of it...
  I take my phone and message one of my best friends. She goes by the name of Hazel. 

  Me: Um....Hazel....what would you do if I had tried suicide just a few moments back?

  After a minute or two my phone rings and I pick it up. 

  Hazel: WHAT DID YOU TRY?!

  I stare nervously at the screen, biting on my nails. I take my fingers out of my mouth and type away.

  Me: Um...I jumped from that big, blue building. The INTUR one, it was.
  Hazel: What? But, how are you still-? How come you are here chatting with me?
  Me: I am an envoy from heaven.

  I say with a hint of sarcasm the last thing. Hazel comments with a snort and a laughing face. I laugh a bit and we continue talking.

  Hazel: Now, seriously, how come you still here?
  Me: Well, if I knew, I probably wouldn’t have done it.
  Hazel: Oh, yeah, true. Just, one thing: YOU ARE SO FREAKING SELFISH! I MEAN, DID YOU EVEN THINK OF HOW YOU WOULD LEAVE US AFTER YOUR STUPID DECISION?!
  Me: Well, no, I didn’t think about it, I didn’t even think it necessary. I mean, if everyone just decides to hate on me, I wouldn’t and couldn’t be able to remember those who love me, especially if it’s me, since I’ve got practically no social life.
  Hazel: Dude, seriously? Your mom loves you, your family loves you, Diane loves you, and everyone here loves you. I love you, my dear parabatai.

  A thin smile creeps on my lips, though I smile one a sad smile.

  Hazel: I mean, of course, like a friend. No offense, but I don’t feel any attraction towards you.

  I snort and break into laughter.

  Me: You sure know how to make me smile.

  I add a small, broad smiled emoticon.

  Hazel: Aww! Now, how the heck did you survive that one?
  Me: I don’t even know anymore. I just....I’m starting to feel glad I didn’t do it. It’s still sad, because I have to live through the consequences of it. I’ll just work it out, I guess.

  I shrug, stand up, take a sip at a glass of water that I have at my side, and press Hazel’s profile picture. I smile at her picture and a tear slips, running about my cheek. I wipe it off and stare at her white-brown skin, her dark brown eyes, dark brown hair, and her lens. I smile again and start doing my homework. As I am working on my supremely easy Math homework, I text Hazel one last message saying, “Be right back, doing homework.” After a few seconds, my phone rings with a text from Hazel. I pick my phone up and read the short message. It says, “No problem, big guy.” A smirking smiley sits by the side of the text. I smile, put my phone down and keep on working on my homework. I finish my homework and start pacing around my room, the spare time making my suicidal thoughts come back to mind. It is quite easy to think on those things when you’ve got your mind empty; it is easy to stay away from those thoughts when you are busy, I have learned. As soon as my thoughts turn somber enough for some nervous breakdown or somewhat, my phone rings, saving me from those evil thoughts. I frown, take my phone and notice it’s a message from Diane.

  Diane: Hey, dude. How are you?
  Me: Hello, I’m fine, actually. How about you?
  Diane: Meh, had better days.
  Me: I mean, so have I, but, well, you have to take life as it is.
  Diane: Yeah, I know. The sad truth of life, you just said.
  Me: Of course, I always speak the truth. Candor, remember?
  Diane: Yeah, right. Not even you yourself believe that. Though how you got Candor is one a hard  thing to imagine, I’ve got to say.
  Me: Are you calling me a liar?!
  Diane: You know I’m not, dumb-ass! I am just saying, you aren’t really truthful, are you?
  Me: Not really. I mean, you know. Yeah, okay. You do, right?
  Diane: Of course I do understand you! I mean, how come? It is Diane Keating who you are talking to, not any regular old bitch. Diane Keating! Ya hear me?
  Me: Aye, miss, aye.

  I, sprawled on the floor, make myself comfortable, plushing stuff beneath my body. I lay comfortably on the floor. It is a cool warmth that I feel beneath it. It is one that I like, a very likable one, indeed.

  After an hour or so of distractions and homework, I finally finish the latter. I lie on my back, then remember that I had closed the door, stand up and open the door, and then go back to lying on the floor. The floor has a serene coolness to it, I notice. I withdraw the back of my shirt and lie with my bare back pressed to the cool floor. I sigh and fall asleep as soon as I lay my head on the pillow beneath my head.

  I am standing in a black room. I stand there for a couple of minutes or so, just waiting for my eyes to focus. Just as my eyes are finally adapting to the darkness, a blinding light blinks into existence. I cover my eyes and rub them hard. I squint at the light and start walking towards it. I notice people encased in glass, every single one of them all bloodied up and screaming their lungs out. One of them is rocking on his butt, slamming his head against the wall, scars visible all over his temples and wrists, a pair of scissors lying at his side. He settles down a bit, but as he looks at me, he points behind me and starts shouting. He grabs the scissors by his side and, with a trembling hand, puts them to his neck. “NO!” I shout with all my strength. The teenager slits his throat open. He grabs his throat as soon as the damage is done and slumps to the floor. I stare, bewildered, at my surroundings. Another person, a girl, sits in a cylindrical container. Lights turn on around the container and some greenish liquid starts flowing from tubes within. The girl, asleep, suddenly breaks into shouting at the top of her lungs. Her feet start peeling away. I stare in awe at the things happening upon my own eyes. The liquid, which I notice is acid, starts building up. Acid scales up the container, burning the girl’s clothes and skin. Pieces of skin float on the acid container. Her wails bounce over the glass encasing her. I clasp my hands on my ears and clench my teeth tightly. I start shouting until everything slows down. I slide my hands from my ears slowly and find that everything has stopped midways. A girl about the age of eight or nine years old has her skin being cut off by a butcher. There’s the boy holding his throat, barely breathing now. Then there’s the girl, sustaining her high-pitched wail. At last, I notice a boy, clad in black, black shirt, black pants, and black leather jacket. I look at him and I notice he moves my movements. Something stands behind him; a gigantic man, looming over him. I feel something tickling on the back of my neck. Then, I notice it’s me who I’m seeing, not any suffering teenager. I look depressed, angry, and mad at the world. I see the man standing behind me. He unsheathes a long blade, a knife, I notice. He wipes it against his white shirt, staining it red. My hands feel warm and sticky, and so does my chest. As soon as I look down, I notice a long slit on both my palms, and a deep cut on my chest. I feel something pulsing against my hand. I slowly lift my hand in front of me and give a look at it. I see something red, muscly and misshapen. I notice what it is. It is a heart. I touch my other hand to my chest, but I hear no heart beats. I start shouting at the top of my lungs. The casing in front of me breaks, shards of glass piercing my skin.

 I wake up, being shaken awake by my father. I notice his lips trying to say something, but I can’t understand anything that he says. I try to speak, but I hear nothing coming from me. My dad seems to hear, and so he answers, but again, I can’t hear what he’s saying. “What?” I repeat. My father’s voice echoes over and over. “Are you okay?” He inquires. His voice bounds off the walls and return repeatedly, the words pounding on my ears. I nod and grab my head with both hands, shutting my sight from the world even for only a short amount of time. My dad goes back to his room, closing the door as he leaves. I still sit with my hands on my head, my eyes closed. I slowly open my eyes, even if slightly. I stand up and start pacing around the room. I like to walk when I am all worried up, because that way, I can actually think on good things and all those people whom I’ve lost over the years and all that stuff. I still remember this girl, Tanya Wilson. I was chatting with her when all of a sudden, my brother pushed me off the computer and typed the word “bitch” a couple of times. Now she won’t talk to me. That’s one of the first friends I lost, if I remember well. Now, I keep on pacing through the room. My feet hurt, so I sit on my bed.  I wait there, I wait for the sun to rise, I wait for school to come, I wait for a new day, I wait for a day more of misery. I fall into my bed, my arms wide open. I close my eyes and fall back asleep, this time, without nightmares.

  I wake up by the chirping of birds. The sun is too high up in the sky to be 4:30, the time I am supposed to wake up for school. Then, I remember, it is Thanksgiving. It is Monday the 13th. The year is 2014. The sun shines its natural yellow orange tinge. It is beautiful, from what I can see. Fireworks have already started, though there is a small, acceptable quantity of them, the blast of them is heart even in my room. I notice my brothers’ empty beds. The smell of cooking bacon filters my nose. I run downstairs and enter the kitchen. My dad is making fried beans, Natura’s brand, they are. I love those fried beans, they are so tasty. My mom is making pancakes in three different pans for a quicker result, considering my family is made up by eight members. My older brother is studying in another country, so it’s only seven now. But still, seven is plenty, I think. I scratch my head and sit on the white chair. I place my hands on the wooden table, waiting. My father ruffles my brown hair, which, considering that I have just woken up, is a whole mess. My dark brown eyes start closing when.......
  CRASH! There goes a plate. One of my grandma’s plates breaks, the sound waking me up fully for once.
  “Dylan!” My mother cries as she sees my two-years-older-than-me brother standing there.
  “Oops,” he says.
  He goes out the wooden swinging door and picks up the broom and sweeps the shards of ceramic, wrapping them in old newspaper, then putting them inside a plastic bag and, at last, sticking in the trash can. “Great, now we only have about the exact amount for us all,” my mother says as she sighs. “That’s the good news, there are no plates left,” my father says in a sarcastic tone. My mother shoots a glance at my dad and he says, “Don’t blame me. It was Dylan after all.” My mother rolls her eyes and starts laughing. Then everyone starts laughing as well. The whole room fills with happiness and laughter. I start laughing as well, trying to keep the mood light on the room. It is, obviously, preferable to have a room filled with laughter and happiness that with hate and war. I look around the room. Time halts, their laughing becomes eternal. I stand and hug my mother. Time flows again. I stop hugging my mother. Time halts again. I move past my mother and hug my father. Time flows again. I stop hugging my father. Time halts again. I leave the room and close the swinging door. The laughter resumes. Everyone keeps on laughing as I slowly, timelessly, climb the stairs up to the second floor. As soon as I am in my room, I quickly take a shower. Hot water washes the dirt away from my body as I lather shampoo into my hair. I relish the breaking moment off the dark thoughts that filter my mind every once and then. I wash away the dirt with the bath brush. Sitting down on the floor, I close my eyes and all of a sudden, enter my own world of fantasy.

  I stand at a cliff, laughing and smiling as broadly as possible. A girl stands by my side. I address her as Louise Pattinson, the girl with the beautiful flowing black hair. Her dark brown eyes glisten as she laughs as well, her teeth, imperfect, just as I love them, glistening white. I look down and notice we are holding hands. Our palms, though sweaty, fit perfectly together, making me feel safe and warm. She leans into me, her head on top of my shoulder. I slowly touch my head to hers. The sun goes down, sunset filtering the view. The beautiful orange tinge of sunset permeates the scene. She looks up at me. I look down into her eyes, and, without even thinking, close my eyes and touch my lips to hers. She answers and kisses me back.

  “JOHN!” A voice wakes me up from my reverie. I am soaked in water, (more than I should be, considering I’m taking a shower) my fingertips all wrinkled up. I stand, shut the water off after taking all the shampoo from my hair, and wrap myself in a towel. I walk towards the door after rubbing some deodorant against my armpit. I walk out of the bathroom, quickly changing into some boxers, t-shirt and shorts. I rub my hair against the towel, trying to get it dry. My hair, being quite a bit long, but not long enough as to surpass my ears, is a bit tardy on the drying up issue. I still keep on rubbing it against the towel as I trudge downstairs, hanging the towel then on the hanger. I take a seat back at the table and eat a good portion of food. Later, I stand at my room, trying to pick which book to read from my small pile of books. I decide to read one that I still haven’t read, and so I grab “The Eye of Minds” by James Dashner and keep on reading from where I had left it. In my opinion, this book seems greatly written, it seems like such a fantastic and new idea, but, it isn’t one that I would personally write, since I think my best writing genre is realistic fiction, if I may say. And yes, if I hadn’t told you, I do like to write. All those years of pain have made me better writer than I could’ve imagined.  I have never told my story about how I became depressive and overcame it, have I? Well, I'll tell how it happened, anyways. It started when I was in first grade (2005). I was happy with my friends, yes, but my classmates called me homo and all because they had invented some shit about my friends and I hanging out as best friends and stuff. I was also bothered with this girl I liked. That kept going for several years. In third or fourth grade (2007 or 2008), they invented something about me and my friends touching each other (we were and are some sexually advanced kids). In fifth grade (2009), my best friend left and the bothering with him stopped for a bit.
  Then, after half year, this kid who always bullied me started bothering with my other best friend. That kept going until seventh grade (2011). In seventh grade, people stopped bothering about the liking of the girl, since I stopped liking her. But another girl came, and it started with her. The bullying about my friends became more evident. That same year, I fought three times, one because I was miscarried by anger, the other because that dude that kept on bothering me called my best friend my boyfriend, and so I punched him in the stomach. Bullying stopped for a bit. Then again, later that year, the same guy started bothering again. I kicked him and poised as if to attack, and he ended up scared and didn't attack me. It is still hard for me to remember this. It creates a great pain inside me. As I remember, hate surges in my veins. My mind instantly flashes back to eight, ninth, and this year, tenth grade. All those years full of hate, having only my three best friends as support. I still remember how they used to and still call me names. They use my parent being the school’s principal as an excuse to why I participate in Spelling Bee’s and Math Olympics and all those intellectual activities. Yeah, just because they are some dumb asses doesn’t mean I also have to be one of them. Of course, their words still hurt me even if they shouldn’t. I remember people calling me retarded and how I had been shunned out by the class. I remember when I finally broke down and had to call my parabatai so that I wouldn’t cut, because if I hadn’t I would’ve. I still hate those years, but those are years that have to left back. The problem is that, even when I try my hardest those years just can’t be left back. As I break from those thoughts, I start crying. The pain is too strong to bear. I just sit in my bed and lay there for a long while. I finally fall asleep.

  My sister wakes me up later in the afternoon, at about 1 PM, telling me that the lunch is already cooked and they are about to eat. I stand up, but as I stand up, the world spins beneath me.
  “I’ll be down in a couple of minutes,” I say.
  My sister nods and leaves.  I sit on the couch nearest to me and start breathing quickly.  The dizziness still is present after a minute or so. All of a sudden, I feel some strange chill passing through my spine. I throw that feeling away. I no longer feel dizzy, and so, when I open my eyes and decide to stand, I see a strange scene before me. All of the light things are levitating, hovering above the platform in which they were placed upon. My heart starts racing, and with it, the things start quivering. My heart races even faster. I close my eyes and imagine all things going back into place. I slowly open my eyes, and I see that everything has settled down. My head throbs with pain, and I slowly make my way downstairs. As I reach the first floor, I retch and puke splashes on the floor. Shades of pink pour as well. My vision clears. I stand straight and quickly head for the mop, my dad asking behind me, “Are you okay?”
   I get the mop and clean the puke. I wash my mouth and sit at the table, shaking, as if nothing had happened. There are pork chops and rice and fried beans on the table. I grab a bit of each and eat quickly, not uttering a single word during the whole half an hour. When I finish, I pick up the plates, glass, and silverware that I used and take them to the sink. I quickly strut up the stairs, heading for my room. As I sit in my room, I suddenly start hyperventilating. My chest heaves quickly. My head aches and my eyes feel tired. I close my eyes tightly and open them again. Visions play on my sight. A girl dances across the room. Next, someone in white runs at me, holding a gun as if to shoot me. Later, a wailing woman, and, at last, the worse comes, a horrible sight that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemies. My dad and mom stand holding hands when a javelin-like thing travels across their body. My head instantly clears and I scream. My dad runs into the room, taking me in his arms and hugging me tightly until I fall asleep in his arms.

 Next when I wake up, a blinding light flashes upon my head. The light turns on and off every interval of five seconds. A hammering sound presses against my skull. I notice I am lying on a hard, metal table. When I look around, I see a big metal tube surrounding me. It’s kind of a cylinder, if you want to name it that way. “Great. Now, John. You’re gonna hear a metal clanging, as if the sound of hammers for the following twenty-five minutes. Don’t make the slightest move,” a voice says over some speakers. It’s a female voice, kind of like that one of a mid-twenties’ girl. The clanging resumes. I close my eyes, trying to shut out the sound. I close my eyes for a minute or so, and when I open my eyes, I cannot believe my sight. I lie in the floor of a basement. I slowly start pushing myself up and then, when I look around, I see another me standing up just after me. Lights shine upon him. In front of him stand my friends, the whole lot of them. When I look around, I notice people shouting and fighting behind, some raising crowbars and sticks while they smash their heads, some using some sort of supernatural powers to kill others. Then, a shot rings over the clearing. When I turn around, I see a beautiful girl fall to the floor. When I look closer, I see someone’s face, shinning with sweat and full of anger. He releases and invisible force and, a few seconds later, a thud is heard. When I finally catch his full features, I notice it is no one more than me. I stand, face taut in awe. Then, everyone turns to look at me. Slowly, their heads incline sideways and they smile a very horrible smile. Blood pours out of the mouth of some as they smile, their teeth stained with the blood. All of a sudden, some scream far away and then, every single one of them starts chasing after me. All wail in response and some hurtle towards me.

   I wake up screaming and squirming, trying to escape the metal tube trapping me inside. The clanging has stopped, I notice. Light flashes back on the cylinder as it slowly slides outwards. My mom and dad run outside the cabin in which they were waiting.
  “Are you okay, sweetie?” My mom asks in a worried tone.
  “Yeah,” I answer as I nod.
  The doctor comes out of the cabin, frowning at some black screen-like papers (which I later recognize as results), muttering under his breath.
  “Well, apparently, there’s nothing wrong with this kid. Why he has been having all this problems I don’t know and can’t tell, but as far as I can see, nothing that can be answered with medical help. Try a psychologist if you must,” he admonishes, still staring down at the results.
  “Sorry for wasting your time, doctor,” my father says politely.
  “No, no, you didn’t waste my time. It’s not the first time this happens. Better be do than regret later, right?” He replies, flashing a flashy smile.
  He looks straight at me for a while. Suddenly, his eyes glint a coal black for just a fragment of a second, turning back to their light shade of green.
  “Now, for you boy, since when did this episodes start happening?”
  “Ever since I tried to jump of a buil- err-“ I reply, biting my lips as I finish saying it.
  “You did what?!” My mother instantly shoots off.
  “John, Marie, we’ll take about this later at home,” my dad finishes peacefully.
  When he looks at me, I notice sadness crossing his face. He looks down at me and then averts his eyes and stares at my mother. She quickly glances at him and I see a flicker of recognition crossing their faces.
  “Suicidal tendencies this boy’s got, eh?” The doctor inquires me and my parents.
  “Not that I knew of, but apparently, yes,” my father responds.
  He nods and then says, “Usually, these tend to create a shock on the victim if an attempt is made and he or she survived.”
  Though I’m quite sure this wasn’t very much of a normal survival, was it? I hear the doctor’s voice whispering in my head. I look at him, my eyebrows knit together. Then, pain flares on my head. My hands instinctively reach up and grasp my head. My eyes close as I struggle to keep the pain away. The pain suddenly subsides. I start breathing heavily. When I look up, I notice the doctor staring at me with a combination of amusement and wonder at me.
  Not much of a strong mind, that one you have, is it? The doctor’s voice again intrudes into my mental peace.
  Mind not breaking into my mind? I reply a bit rudely, not knowing whether he heard me or not.
  I notice my parents are still talking with the man, and so I decide to take a stroll around the hospital. I leave the room and walk aimlessly around the place, as my mind wanders off to some weird daydream. When I come out of my reverie, I am standing in front of a pale white room. A big cylinder stands there, waiting as if for someone. It is transparent and just about new. I slowly walk towards it and then, I notice that there are no walls, just a big glass covering the place. I walk towards the glass and stare out of it. Other rooms similar to that of which I stand in are beside and in front of this one. A bone chilling thought penetrates my mind. I recognize all this, as the image comes back to my mind. I hear the screams and see the people waiting behind each room, shouting their heads off and slowly dying from blood loss. I look at each room and recognize this one as the room in which the girl was slowly burning in the acid.
  A few rooms off and in front, I notice the room in which I stood in my dream. As if on cue, I notice a man standing in the room. Then, the next second, there is nobody in the room. I turn around and slowly walk out of the room, running away and finding my way out of the facility. I turn around and notice what the name of the facility is:

Abraham Penitentiary for Underage People

  Ever so slowly, I walk backwards. I quickly turn around and run. I run as fast as I can. I notice a gigantic poster board spelling the name of the city in which I’m currently at: Comayagua, Honduras. I shake my head and stare intensely at it again. The name is still on, flashing with lights. I take my phone out and call my dad.
  “Where are you?” My dad answers.
  “I just turned up in Comayagua. I don’t even know why. Just did,” I say quickly.
  “Well, find your way back home. Grab the bus, if you must,” my dad commands.
  “Aren’t you picking me up?” I ask, a bit astounded as I hear my dad’s reply.
  “No, I won’t drive an hour just to pick you up. You found your way there, now find your way here,” he replies in tone of finality as he hangs up on me.
  I stand there, helpless. I let out a groan and start walking back home. Then, something flashes on my mind. I see a picture of myself, walking around the hospital, lost in my reverie, when all of sudden, I pop out of the picture as dark wisps of what seems like black smoke appear where I was. I remember this as the same that I thought I had seen back in the building when I tried to jump. A man was passing at that time, twenty floors below me. He rounded a corner, checked sideways and disappeared, curling dark blue wisps of smoke standing where he was.
  I recognize that as what happened. And then, I remember when I jumped and appeared back at the top of the building. I had only need of thinking of the top of the building to go back to it. I let out a breath in my cupped hands and rub my hands against one another. My mind instantly flutters upon my home. I walk down an alley where nobody will be able to wonder at why I disappeared if what I am trying to do works. I close my eyes and think of the front of my house, but then, I would be sighted, and so I think of a corner a bit back in which there is little to none possibilities of being sighted my mundane eyes flitting here and there. I think intensely, the image burning into my eyes. And then, thunder rumbles. I stand with my eyes closed for a few more seconds, and when I think nothing’s happened, I open my eyes. I am evidently wrong, since I notice that I am standing exactly where I was thinking on. I quickly let out a loud whoop! and then cover my mouth and start walking towards my home as I hear someone shouting at me for silence. I walk, half-quivering, half-excited and desperate to tell my friends of the events happened. But as I reach the metal door imposing security for those one living behind the door, my eyes find a tall, sinewy figure standing there. His hair looks ruffled; his clothes look ordinary and informal. As he hears the footsteps coming, he turns around. He smiles at me with that unforgettable smile. I stand there, rooted in place. My eyes are wide open, and so is my mouth. His dark brown eyes shine in the light, as does his dark brown hair. He looks exactly like a copy of me, except he’s taller and a lot more handsome than I am.
  “Hi,” he says, in that calm, deep, soothing voice of his.
  “Hi,” I manage to stutter out.
  “Remember me?” He asks.
  I nod. I run towards him and hug him tightly.
  “I missed you, Grindelwald,” I manage to say as I hug him tightly.
  “I missed you too, John,” he replies.
  I ring the doorbell, and, as my parents open up, their eyes open as they process those who stand before them. First, his son that was, until a few minutes ago, in Comayagua, an hour away from where he stands now. And second, someone whom they thought long gone. Not gone as in dead, but as in no longer in the same country. But after all, there he was: my long lost cousin, Grindelwald Adams. 

2: Chapter 2: Long Lost Cousin

Chapter 2: Long Lost Cousin

  “Grindelwald...” my father says, staring at him blankly.
  “Hi, uncle,” Grindelwald replies. 
  My father slowly walks towards my cousin and hugs him tightly. 
  “We all thought you were gone for good, son,” my father tells Grindelwald.
  “Well, lucky I’m not,” he answered, flashing a handsome smile. 
  As we slowly walked into my house, Grindel started recounting the story of why he was gone for so long. 
  “You see,” he says, “I was stuck at first. I had gotten this job in Germany, and I had accepted, you see. But the thing is, when I got to Germany, there was no job, apparently, and it all had been a prank. A really pricey prank, by the way. About half of my savings, it cost me. Luckily, the company gave me some money so I could come back, and so I did.
  “I went to live a few hours from here, actually, but I didn’t remember where you lived, in the end, and so I didn’t visit. But then, I began getting busy; like, really busy.”
  As he talks, I notice a funny mark on his left forearm. He keeps on moving his hands over and over. Then, I notice, he stops talking and he looks at me. When I look into his eyes, I enter that dark brown world. But then, I notice a soft glint of dark blue, almost violet. 
  “What was that?” I ask Grindel. 
  “What do you mean?” He answers.
  “Your eyes, they just turned dark blue,” I say.
  I notice him give me a shifty look as he says, “How come? Eyes can’t be dark blue, can they?” 
  “Rarely,” I answer matter-of-factly. 
  “Well then. Mine are clearly dark brown,” Grindel says grinning. 
  “John, why don’t you go and get some food for lunch, huh? Here, take twenty-five bucks. Should be enough,” my father commands. 
  “But, I can’t drive,” I tell him. 
  “You got to Comayagua, somehow. Now you bring some food. You find the place,” he tells me. 
  I groan and make my way to some fast-food restaurant where I can get food for nine. My brothers are five. Then I have both my parents, and me. That makes eight. And now Grindel’s visiting, nine people. I decide to buy some Chinese food, and, as soon as I get it, I notice something flashing at the corner of my eye. A man walks into a dead end, and he looks around. After seeing that there is nobody in the alleyway, I watch him walk into the wall right in front of him. He walks straight across it, as if it were thin air. I look at where he was, amazed. Then, I remember that I also have powers. I get in the alleyway and think of my home. I keep thinking on the image of it for a while. I open my eyes, and notice I’m still in the alleyway. I try it again, and again, but with no luck. I groan and make my way back home. 
  When I get home, I ring the doorbell, and after a minute or so, one of my two sisters opens the door.
  “Uh, food!” She exclaims, taking the food from my hands. 
  “Really hungry, are you, huh?” I say, chuckling. 
  “Mhm,” she mutters as she stuffs some bread into her mouth.
  “Oh, well,” I say as I break into laughter.
  “It’s a bit late, isn’t it?” My sister replies.
  “It’s barely quarter past twelve,” I answer as I check on the stove’s clock.
  She shrugs and places the food on the table. I sit as my father calls everyone to eat. After we all are sitting in the table, Grindelwald at my right side, my father blesses the food and then we start serving and eating. As each other stuff food into their mouths, Grindelwald recounts his adventure on Europe.
  “You see, first it was the prank, and then I decided to get back here. Of course, at first, I couldn’t get the ticket, since the ticket’s price a bit higher than I had thought. So, I checked on stores and I finally got some job as secretary for this man. Well, apparently, my job was too good, and after a couple of months, I was sitting behind the desk on the Ministry of England, as you can notice from my accent. Again, as a secretary, I performed my job even better than I had done it in my last job, but, after three years or so, strange things started happening. Chaos broke over the country and some really weird stuff. The Prime Minister took in on me to research about the subjects. After a couple of weeks of intensive research, I hadn’t found a single file on that matter. I quit my job, and, since I had more money than I could handle, I donated most of it to some charity. I had only enough as to satisfy my needs and buy the ticket. So I bought the ticket and, well, now you see me here,” Grindelwald finished as I was working on cutting an overlarge piece of meat. 
  “A great traveling story, yours,” my mom told him after she had stopped drinking her Coke. 
  “I don’t think of it that way, but if you say so, Aunt Marie,” Grindelwald confided. 
  She nodded and kept on eating.
  
  After a lunch, everyone stands up and starts heading either for his or her room, or rather sits down in the couch and start talking about everything. Grindelwald puts his hand on my shoulder and whispers in my ear, “I need to talk you now.” He then looks and me and adds, “In private.” 
  We walk into the study room and he closes the door, locking it behind him. He sighs, turns around, and quickly says, “I know what you are.” I shake my head and look at him bewildered. 
  “What do you mean by that?” I ask him, frowning.
  He raises his eyebrows and then answers, “All that disappearing and reappearing as if nothing. The crazy things happening with the sudden levitation of things. The building incident. Every one of them happening in your wake.” 
  He waits a moment, as if expecting for me to know what he’s talking about. As my brain takes in what he said, I ask, “Wait, how do you know about all that?” 
  “I talked to everyone,” he answers quickly. He shakes his head and adds, “You really don’t know what I’m talking about?” 
  “Why would I?” I reply. 
  He shakes his head in dismay and answers, “Just thought you would’ve; had higher expectations on you, to be honest. Well, I have a good and a bad news, both go inside the same topic. Which one do you wanna hear first?”
  “The...good news?” I ask. 
  “Well, good news is, you’re not alone,” He says with a hint of a smile. 
  My eyes open widely in shock; between the paralyzing shock I manage to mutter, “I’m not alone?” 
  “No. Bad news, though, are, that you are going to be, if not already, followed,” he voices. 
  “Followed? By whom?” I inquire. 
  “Government,” He mutters that one word. 
  “Isn’t that good? Doesn’t that mean protection?” I tell him. 
  “Not at all, not when you are one of us,” he replies matter-of-factly. 
  “One of us? What do you mean by that?” I inquire.
 Grindelwald sighs and, after a couple of silent minutes, finally answers, “Us, John. We are...a more powerful specimen, if you would like to call it that way. Some call us magicians, others call us wizards or, rather, demons, some call us possessed, weird, outcasts. Or rather, some call us the name that we’ve adopted as our own, since it’s...quite the more satisfying, quite the least insulting: Outsiders. We perform tasks with a higher difficulty than ordinary humans would be able to perform. Of course, it is rare to find Outsiders with same powers than others have. For instance, some might have the power to control water while others have the power to control liquids themselves, rather than just-“ 
  “Woah, hold on. Did you say powers?” I say, astounded and realized. 
  “Yes. Powers, John. You and I, we are feared. We are treated as freaks, per se, the building incident on your behalf,” he says with a look of disappointment. “Now, I know life has treated us harshly. I didn’t work for the Ministry as I told your parents I did. I was in England though. That bit of information is true. I was working against the Ministry. It isn’t just you and I against the whole world of people who have decided to get rid of us. There is a society. A secret society, hidden in the depths of all history, it has managed to escape notice from mundane eyes so far, until just a couple of years ago. When I was in England, chaos, strife, and many other disasters happened. At first, I admit, I was oblivious to what was happening. It seemed like some normal disaster that would eventually happen anywhere where humans set foot on. But then, I noticed, it was, actually, created by human hands. But those were no ordinary human hands. Those were powerful hands. Those of an Outsider. The clues were quite difficult to read at first. But then, one tiny mistake made the whole world aware of the danger that us, Outsiders, posed in society. Our exile was imminent.
  “It started in India. The 1st of October of 2012, a gang of twelve was walking around this small town. All of a sudden, they decided to pick on this little, apparently defenseless boy. At simple view, it would’ve looked like he was harmless. But after what happened, you would know that the boy would be more than capable of killing a whole country if it came to. Of course, the kid didn’t even think of killing the dozen teenagers, but, of course, he seemed to be in need of protection. That is when his powers sprung to full strength.
  “You see, for some people, powers don’t present to them only until they are quite in need of them. That is the case of the boy. For others, powers present in case of survival, since they sense that the owner is in need of more time than would be normal. That is your case. For others, powers present themselves when very strong emotions come to face. That is, I suppose, your case too. And at last, for others, powers come when the situation requires it, when it is time to choose what you want to be, who you want to chase, and if you want to help, or if you want to kill. That is my case.
  “Now, the boy was very needy, and his powers came to surface, creating a massive explosion, that not only eradicated the gang, but it destroyed more than a simple nuclear bomb would’ve destroyed. The boy ran away, seeing what he was capable of and put his life on the deadline. It didn’t take long for the Government to find the boy and kill him. It was a couple of days later that more and more incidents started happening. Whole families suddenly popping off the map; tsunamis in calm seasons; towns burnt because of a fire escape. By then, the clues were evident. And then, it happened in England. 
  “A couple, husband and wife, were walking across the city. Birmingham was the city. The merry couple was walking, as I said. But they were no ordinary couple. Again, these were Outsiders. The thing is there are not only good Outsiders. As nobody can help but differ from others at some point, there are bad Outsiders. These couple was one of them. They were headed for the nearest community hospital, and when they reached it...The hospital blew up in a matter of seconds. Everyone inside it died, except for a single baby. 
  “The baby was one of us, or rather, is one of us. He’s still alive, hidden underground with a small, but strong group of Outsiders. The good ones, by the way. The thing is, there are stories about that baby. Apparently, he is one of the many Outsiders that is born with the power, but grows up oblivious to his powers, since only feelings, survivalism, and everything that I told you, can get his powers to surface. The thing is, it is said that there is a rebellion rising. Not only does the Government want to rise against the Outsiders, but there is vast group of humans thriving to tear us apart. Of course, inside the Government there are plenty of Outsiders. It is widely known who they are, but since they work for the Government, they are safer than one of us will ever be in our whole lives. Unless, of course, Gerard Harrison decides that they no longer are of help. 
  “Now, our duty is to overthrow the Government. There is a whole bunch of good Outsiders. The problem is, most of them are afraid to show themselves by who they really are. I, luckily, am not afraid to fight the Government. You have to do what is for the greater good. And, John, I can train you, if you want.”
  I stare at him, awe-struck and paralyzed by the shock of the words. I shake my head, trying to get the feeling away. “But, how can you...didn’t you say that...but you...UGH! You told me that nobody has the same powers!” I exclaim.
  “I said it was on rare occasions that people have the same powers. It is known, though, that those of the same blood have a higher possibility of sharing powers. And as I have told you, I am also an Outsider. Who do you think spoke to you as you were falling from that building?” Grindelwald answers with a grin on his face. 
  “It was you? Then, you were the one who saved me? I felt a dark, cold thing wrapping around me, and then, I was falling towards the rooftop. Was that you?” I ask hopefully.
  “I’m sorry to say, that wasn’t me. I can teleport, but I am not able to perform such a feat of extraordinary power. You, on the hand, saved yourself, even if you didn’t want to do so. You, John, are destined to become a great warrior. You are the leader we’ve all been expecting to meet, John. You are afraid of your own, personal power. You know that if you let it go, a monster, unrecognizable to yourself, will wreak hell on earth. You are afraid of being guilty of such chaos. But John, if you let me train you, you can become the rightful, wistful, wise leader that us, Outsiders, have been waiting for,” Grindelwald replies with a hopeful expression on his face. 
  “You sure you’ve got the right John Adams? I mean, there must be plenty of John Adams over the world, you know. Plus, I haven’t got the ability to lead, if you haven’t noticed. I’m barely fifteen years old, definitely not wise, nor wistful. I’m not even sure if I’ve got the guts to do it! I’m not a public speaker! I can’t even speak for myself many times! And, I’m not even sure what, if any, are my powers!” I shout. 
  As everyone outside falls silent, someone walks to the door and knocks as he says, “Is everything okay in there?” My father’s voice resonates in the room as Grindelwald stares at me disapprovingly. “Yes, we’re fine,” Grindelwald answers. As the footsteps fade and Grindelwald holds his finger to his mouth signaling silence. Finally, the speech outside continues and Grindelwald looks back at me. 
  “Yes, you are the John we’re looking for. Besides, you’ve got brains, and you know it. You’ve got enough wits, guts and everything you can think of! You can do what I’m telling you. With a little bit of practice, you can learn to keep your fear at bay when you speak in public, and you do have powers. How do you explain what happened back at the hospital? Your sudden disappearance, your going back to the rooftop? You are stronger than you think, John, you just don’t want to accept it,” Grindelwald states harshly. 
  “Well, then show me. Show me what I can do,” I tell him.
  “It’s not up to me to show you what you can do. You will know at the right time. For all that I know you could create earthquakes, materialize things out of thin air, and kill with sight! I don’t know!” He says desperately. 
  “Okay then. I accept your offer to train me. Tell me when and I will arrange the meeting and somehow try to fit it in my schedule,” I answer, finally giving way to Grindelwald’s insistence. 
  “Ah, busy body we have here, huh?” He says mockingly. “Now, I think the day for our first meeting should be right for this Tuesday at...how does four o’ clock sound? In the afternoon, obviously John.”
  “Perfect. Though...no, never mind, I have nothing to do that day. Where will the meeting be then, Grindelwald?” I ask.
  “Um...my new apartment, I guess? I’ll show up at school to show you the way,” Grindelwald says. “And call me Grindel, preferably, sounds slightly better, after all. Crazy parents naming their kids with such a hideous name, mine.” 
  I laugh and Grindel opens the door. We come out of the study room and he quickly says goodbye to my family, embracing my father again and leaving through the door. I make sure the door is locked well as I come out with him. I notice that he checks if anyone is around and, as a dark green aura shines around him, winks at me and disappears in the blink of an eye. I sigh and re-enter the house.

  It is half past four in the morning when I am woken up by my brother’s voice as it calls my name. I blearily open my eyes and stare at the ceiling for a few seconds. I limp down my bunk bed and walk to the bathroom to take a bath for school. 
  After a few minutes, I get out of the bath, completely clean but still as sleepy as when I woke up. I slowly put on some deodorant and change into my school uniform. 
  If you are wondering, yes. I have to wear a uniform for school. My schedule changes each year, this year being Monday, Tuesday and Thursday in formal uniform and Wednesday and Friday in my Physical Educations uniform. Sadly, all classes are obligatory at my school, and so I have no other option than attending to those classes. 
  But as I am changing, an illuminating memory breaks in. I can finally tell my friends all that happened during my crazy weekend. It seems like ages ago since that happened. I quickly put my uniform on and take a quick nap, which I always do on school days when I’ve got time to. 
  Again, I’m woken up, but this time by my father’s knocking the door. “Get downstairs already. Food’s ready!” He exclaims. I slowly make my way down my bed and take my towel towards the hanging rope. After, I sit at the wooden table pressed against the wall in the kitchen. The chairs a bit cool, considering air has only entered for about ten minutes. I serve a small portion of scrambled eggs and grab a toast as I scoop scrambled eggs into my mouth. Between chewing, I stand up and take some milk from the carton and pour it in my glass. I take some chocolate and mix it with my chocolate. I finish my toast and eggs and then drink the milk. 
   “In a cheery mood, are you, son?” My father says as he sips his morning coffee. 
   “Yup,” I answer and run upstairs. 
  In the meantime, I grab a book and read it as I brush my teeth. This time, it is “Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix” by J.K. Rowling, since “The Eye of Minds” (by James Dashner) is already in the process of thinking it over and over in my mind, having finished it yesterday. I get to read three pages as I brush my teeth and then place the book in my backpack carefully. I dislike seeing battered up books. I prefer my books looking new, since they look prettier that way. I enter the car as my father pulls out of the driveway, then parking on the side of my house, waiting for my mother and my only two brothers that still attend school. My brother is in his senior year at school, whilst I’m at my freshman year. My little brother is in his fourth year at Elementary school, so he’ll get out of school when I’m twenty-three years old. What a shitload of time! I say inside my head as I chuckle internally. Personally, I would say I’m glad that my school years aren’t far from over, but I know that I will be utterly depressed when I get out of school since it will probably be the last time I ever see my friends that continually. I can actually imagine myself crying in my graduation day, to be honest. 
  As the car pulls into the school after dropping my mom off at her work, I grab my backpack and lunchbox and make my way up the stairs into where my main classroom is. 
  You see apart from it being a uniform school, it is also an only males school, plus its schedule is from early February to early November. We always have a mid-year break of a month, ordinarily. Then, it is a school that has both Elementary and High School. Plus, in Elementary, classes are in one class per section. If there are more than thirty kids in a grade, the grade is divided into two groups, and so each has its own classroom. Then, in the higher years of Elementary (that being from 6th to 8th) and High School, there is a classroom in which the whole section has to stay until the bell rings for the beginning of class. So, this is the amazingness of my school. 
  I get to my classroom and wait for someone to open the door as I sit on the floor in the meantime and wait for my other classmates (total jerks and dumbasses) to arrive and at least make company. I wait and wait as I take out my copy of “Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix”. By the time someone arrives to open the door, I’ve read two whole chapters and kept on reading. Then, finally, my friends arrive. I place the bookmark in the page I’m in and then close the book and place it back in my backpack. I enter the classroom and place my stuff in a near chair. I start speaking calmly with my friends and then, after a short while, I consider it’s time for me to tell them what’s happened in my crazy weekend. 
  “You see, I was standing in the INTUR building when I suddenly thought of visiting the rooftop. So, I reached the rooftop and sat at the top. Then, after a while, I decided to go home and grabbed my things to leave and then, I suddenly thought of my house and PUFF! I popped into existence in front of my house! How awesome is that?” I tell them with an anxious face. 
  I notice that they stare at each other for a while and then, they break into laughter. 
  “Dude, you seriously think we’re going to believe you?” Hansel Jameson, my second best friend, says as he sweeps his long, dark hair away from his eyes. 
  “I thought you would. But apparently not...” I mutter with a hint of disappointment. “Well, as Augustus Waters once said, ‘Life is not a wish-granting factory.’” 
  “Because if it were, we’d all have powers,” says Ken as he chuckles. 
  “I swear I do! I can show you if you want!” I tell them.
  “Then do it. Show us,” Dean says. 
  “Well, I can’t do it in public. And it doesn’t always work,” I mutter, shrugging. 
  “Or is it that you have no powers? I mean, seriously John, there has never been anyone with powers! Like, never,” Hansel answers. 
  I shake my head in amusement and then head for my first class as the bell rings. We make our way to the first floor, then entering the classroom in which Math class is given.
  Math, unlike much of you, is my favorite class. I mean, I simply love having my mind spinning its wheels and working perfectly. That’s why I also like to write, read, and, as I had said, do Math. 
  “Good morning class,” Mr. Kyle Parker says. 
  Everyone mutters “good morning” and open their notebooks. I, unlike many, am a Math whiz. I never actually open my notebook, unless it’s a topic which I’m unfamiliar with, or unless Mr. Parker tells me to copy. There are two other classmates that, like me, are Math whizzes. 
  One is my friend, Tyson Galloway. He’s a tall, tan and chubby boy. His height hides his stomach in a good way, and so he wouldn’t normally seem fat. He’s good a good and attentive personality. He’s quite funny and always combs his hair (I don’t really know if he actually combs his hair) in a wavy manner. He’s quite a friendly personage, if you ask me. Shy, as me, though a lot more extrovert than I would ever get to be. 
  Then, there’s the other guy, Louis Fray. He’s a bit taller than me, a bit dumb, yet still he’s got the best grades in the whole grade (of course, after my friend Dean), and he’s a great soccer fan. I personally dislike his attitude, which is, ordinarily, against me thanks to the influence of the whole hate-on-John classmates of his. Though Tyson is in his section, he’s a good lad, and he’s not my only friend there. Never mind my other friends, there’s enough time to introduce them later. So, Louis is quite influenced by the rest, since he’s decided to take that position. Though the others treat him like a king and call him “The Master”, I consider myself a lot smarter than him, (not in a self-centered way).
  Those two guys and I form the whole Math Olympics group, since we are the best of our class. I’m not bragging my ability, but it’s true. I’ve got a better understanding at Math than at plenty other classes. Of course, there are some other classes which I consider easier than Math, those being English Writing and English Literature and, though most wouldn’t agree, Spanish. I don’t really know why English was divided into two, since the years before my freshman year English was a single class. But, though my father is the school principal, he isn’t the head of the school. My school is directed by an association. There are two other schools and one pre-school in the association: one is an only girls’ school, from which most of my girlfriends are; the other is a school for kids with low resources; the last being, well, a pre-school. 
  And so, here I am. Receiving Math class (it turned out that it was a lesson which I was supremely familiar with: Polynomial Factoring) and nearly drifting off into reverie. But then, I notice a figure flash at the side of the room, where the door is. I look at the door and there, I see him standing. Grindelwald, or rather Grindel as he asked me to call him that way, stands in near-to formal clothes. He’s wearing exactly what a teacher would be wearing here: a long-sleeved shirt with a sleeveless white shirt beneath, trousers, black socks, and shoes. He’s wearing a long-sleeved dark red shirt, dark blue trousers, and orange shoes. My body suddenly reacts, lifting itself from the chair and slowly walking out of the room. “John, come here! Don’t you dare get out of the class,” Mr. Parker commands, but I keep on walking and finally, coming out of the class, embrace Grindel. 
  “Oh! Too much hugging, don’t you think, John?” Grindel says as he chuckles.
  He hugs me back and pats my backs. Then he releases me, and I release him as well. I look up at him and ask, “What are you doing here?” 
  “What do you think I’m doing here?” He says, grinning broadly at me. 
  “You’re not working here, are you?” I answer in bewilderment. 
  “Why, don’t you want me to?” He inquires. 
  “Yes, I do. But what are you doing here?” I reply. 
  “Well, I am, in fact, working here. I needed a job, and, a job near you would help. I can now watch over you without having to spy on you, won’t I?” He grins and then says, “Be careful of what you do. I’ll know real soon when you’ve done something wrong.” 
  I nod and as I turn around in order to enter the classroom, I hear him say, “By the way, today as well.”
   I hear his footsteps receding and I enter the classroom. Instantly, everyone starts laughing, but I can’t stop smiling my silly smile. And then, Mr. Parker calls me. I knew that would happen ever since I saw Grindel, but it still came quite unexpected. I wince and walk towards his desk. 
  “Yes, Mr. Parker?” I ask. 
  “You know you shouldn’t have done that, right?” He replies with another question. 
  “Yes, I know. But it was my cousin!” I answer back. 
  “Your cousin, huh?” He asks with renewed interest. 
  “Yes, he is. Came back from England, he did,” I answer, smiling. 
  “Oh, well. Just because he came from far away won’t I punish you. Now go back to your seat,” He says, nodding at my seat. 
  As I sit in my desk, my friends look at me as Hansel asks, “What did he say?” 
  “Not much. Just that I could take a seat,” I answer. 
  “After hugging that dude?” Hansel says with a smirk on his face. 
  “For your information, he’s my cousin. I haven’t seen him since 2007,” I reply.
  “Oh, pity,” Ken says sarcastically.
  “I heard you kissed our English teacher two years ago,” I come back at him. 
  “You know it’s not true!” He answers. 
  “How could I know? I don’t spend my whole time with you,” I answer with a smug look. 
  He sits back with his arms crossed and an angry look. Dean, Hansel and I break into laughter at the sight of him.

  The classes later pass ordinarily until our last period. We arrive at the classroom at 2:10, waiting for our last class for the day. As we run to the Spanish class, I notice that our teacher, Mr. Peter Linon, isn’t seating behind the desk. Instead, Grindel sits behind the desk. I raise my eyebrows at the sight of him and he signals to his throat and makes a coughing mimic. I understand that as it being that Mr. Linon is sick, probably because of some throat infection or something. As everyone notices that Grindel is sitting there and not Linon, what would ordinarily be shouts and out-loud talking, is now whispering and close to no-talking. 

  “Good afternoon class,” Grindel starts. 
  “Good afternoon, Mr...” Everyone murmurs and stop as they notice nobody knows his last name except for me, since I end it saying “Mr. Adams.” Everyone stares at me and frowns with how-do-you-know face. I shrug and sit down. 
  “My name is Grindelwald Adams, or as you have to call me, Mr. Adams,” Grindel says as he moves towards the whiteboard and scribbles his name with a marker. “I am a substitute teacher for the meantime. I graduated with a PhD on Spanish Literature and another PhD on Mythology. You will be seeing more of me later when your Mythology class has been added to the school’s schedule.
  “Okay, now. I want everyone to tell me what your last topic was about,” He says expectantly.
  Everyone murmurs something as Dean says clearly, “We stopped at the Renaissance, if I’m correct.” Some assent as they remember what we stopped in, while others keep on talking. Behind the murmurs, I hear someone saying, “He’s John’s cousin, I heard. Probably adores John and will only pay attention to him. Watch out for an A+ in this term on John’s behalf.” 
  As they chuckle, I feel hatred rising inside my chest. My throat burns with a longing to shout at them, but I try to stay calm. But then, they keep on murmuring as they say, “Probably sleeps with John. Incest, those two do. All night, banging hard against each other.” 
  I look at them and raise my eyebrows. They laugh at me and one of them answers, “Oh, you know you love your nights with him.” 
  As hatred boils inside me, I feel something else running through my veins. It is a warm, queasy feeling. I notice it is very powerful, as it is trying to spring out from me and attack them. All of a sudden, one of the windowsills moan as a crack runs over it. 
  I notice that they keep muttering things. As both feelings intertwine, my hands open in a claw-ish way. As they laugh, the windowsills start breaking one by one. 
  CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Tiny shards of crystal start raining on them, and I notice, from the corner of my eye, that Grindel is starting straight at me with both awareness and interest. Then, I hear one last comment, enough as to make my anger come out. “Lick their asses, they do. Make love hard. Oh, they love it.” 
  I rise from my chair and slowly make my way in front of them. Some, unnerved by the breaking glasses, stare at me with some kind of acknowledgeable fear. Others stare at me with disinterest and laugh at me. 
  “John.” I hear my friends’ and Grindel’s voice saying my name. 
  “What are you saying?” I ask them angrily.
  “Oh, just that you and that idiot have sex every night. Nothing much,” one of them says annoyingly. 
  “Don’t you dare say that again,” I mutter under my gritted teeth. 
  “What? That you bang each other? Oh, you love it. How he bangs you and you moan all night,” the same dude answer daringly. 
  “You’re gonna regret it,” I reply. 
  All of a sudden, metal starts creaking as my open palms turn upwards and my eyes turn hazy. The air feels stale. I feel something pressing in on me and a great relief as something rushes out of me. Then, one of them raises a bit as my hand makes a chocking form. He grasps his throat and looks at me fearfully, begging me for mercy. I feel a wave of something rush out of me and then, everything moves and the waves crash against the walls. I hear Grindel slowly moving towards me as he calls his name. And then...I am aware of what I’m doing, but that doesn’t make me stop. That makes me want to push my powers to a further level. I make my hand into a fist and the dude starts turning purple slowly. Then, all the glass breaks and I stand there, in the middle of it all, unharmed. 
  I smile and the dude falls down back to his chair, grasping it for air. Then I turn around and look at everyone and then...all the feeling leaves me and I blink. I blink hard and close my eyes for a while. I open them, and when I look at everyone, they all look back at me, scared. I start breathing heavily and I fall to the floor in all fours. I start grasping for air and then...everything goes black.
  The last thing I remember is the touch of Grindel’s hand on my neck as I fall backwards. 

3: Chapter 3: Help from a Healer, Outsider Categorization, and Capture & Escape

Chapter 3: Help from the Healer, Outsider Categorization, and Capture & Escape

  I wake up in the school infirmary. Grindel stands above, I notice. He isn’t staring down at me; he is talking with the doctor beside me. 
  “He says this stuff has been happening ever since the building incident. What do you think this would be?” 
  “Well Grindel, John has no damage visible or anything. This is, most probably, his powers.”
  “But, Luke, that didn’t happen to me as a youngster, you know.”
  “Well, it works different for some, especially the types of John.”
  I lay in the bed, weakened by the power exertion earlier on. I slowly move my hands and touch Grindel’s leg as if to make him see that I’m awake. He turns around and look at me worriedly, then grasps my hand, nods, and lets it go. 
  I fall back on the bed and close my eyes. 
  “What do you mean the types of John?” 
  “Grindel, you must know that John isn’t an ordinary Outsider. He’s not like you, not like any other Outsider. At least, not like the ones that have been checked. In my whole hundred years that I have lived, I have never seen an Outsider of this magnitude.”
  “You’re not talking about...you surely don’t mean...but he can’t be one of them, can he?”
  “Well, as you must’ve seen, that was something dangerous. His reactions will become more and more reckless and, after some time, he will improve in strength and who knows? Someone might end up dead.”
  “Well, yeah. That’s ordinary in Outsiders, isn’t it? I mean, sometimes we get out of control and someone gets hurt, but that’s why we train our powers.”
  “You’re not quite getting what I’m saying. Grindelwald, he’s a Berserker. You know Berserkers can’t be handled. We need to get to some place. Probably get him into quarantine. You know how dangerous Berserkers can be. Your father, that’s why he died.”
  “But John, he isn’t of that nature. He wouldn’t go on killing people all of a sudden.”
  “From what I’ve heard, he may. And Grindel, not even a Mental like you can see into other people’s personalities, can you?”
  “Well, not really, but I’ve known him for most of my life!”
  “Grindel, you were gone for seven years. People change,” the doctor ends. 
  What are they talking about, berserkers and mentals? I ask myself. 
  I move my hand to take Grindel’s and he grabs it and then...a sharp pain shoots down my body. I grunt in pain and fall to the floor. My eyes flutter open as my hands clench into fists, my nails digging into my palms, blood springing from the wounds that my nails open. I see Grindel and the doctor turn around. With a sudden uplift, I am being taken into the lobby, or so I think. Then, Grindel nods at the doctor and he disappears in the spot, carrying me in his arms.

  We spring into existence in a lonely street. Grindel walks to the end of the street, still carrying me in his arms, and, as he approaches the door, he kicks it open. People inside turn around, most of them bringing guns from behind tables and counters; others bringing old school weapons: bows, knives, swords, slingshots, and some other things I don’t recognize. 
  The pain suddenly subsides and I fall limply on a table as Grindel flips me down into it. My eyes close as I take a break from the pain, but then, the pain comes back, this time stronger than last time. My back arches as the pain is to strong. A blood-curling scream escapes my lips as the pain races all over my body. I can barely hear some people speaking. Why are they speaking instead of helping me? I could be dying, and these people do nothing more than stand at my side, speaking and watching me die? I hear someone say, “Get Jazmin, quick.” 
  The pain stops again, but this time, it brings up blood. I cough up blood as my insides writhe with pain. My chest heaves, blood gushes from my mouth and then, a cold hand grasps my neck. I feel a strangling sensation and I grasp at the hand with a surprising strength. The hand stays in my neck as a soothing, feminine voice whispers in my ear, “Stay put.” My body obeys as it instantly falls into an intense paralyzing feeling. I still feel the pain, but now it feels like a soft tingle in my chest. “Open your eyes,” the voice whispers in my ear. My eyes flutter open as I stare intensely at a woman looming above me. Her face looks mutilated as it has scratches and wounds here and there. Her hair is all tangled into a dirty dark red knot. Her lips are bloody and cracked as they slowly move and form words unrecognizable to any language that I have ever heard. “Surrexit ergo, et sanabit. Surrexit ergo, et sanabit. Surrexit ergo et sanabit,” she repeats over and over. I recognize the words as I rack my brain for an explanation. Where have I heard these words? I ask. And then, it suddenly pops into my mind: Latin. She is speaking Latin. How come I had not recognized the Latin? And then, the meaning of it rises in my mind. “Rise and heal” are the words that she’s saying. I notice my whole body sweating, as my shirt has been ripped open and she presses her hands against my chest. And then, a tingling sensation trickles in my body. She stops and walks around me as she inspects my body. Then, I look at her eyes. Oh, such eyes as I have never seen! She has beautiful golden honey eyes. The beauty is such that it creates an enticing view, as to gaze at them for all that your life is worth. And then, I see it: the vision attacks my mind: people scream and shout as a girl, the same girl that appeared at my bath reverie, fights; she lunges and kills as she protects her city; she is trapped and taken away; she stands in a tub full of some green liquid which I notice is acid; she screams and screams as her wounds close and re-open because of the acid. Then, she moves her eyes away from mine and I no longer see what I was seeing. I pant and then try to accommodate my head in the table. 
  “He will be okay for now,” she says to Grindelwald, who stands a few feet away, looking worrisome and struck by my pain. 
  Grindel nods and slowly walks to my side, buttoning my shirt and then taking a seat beside me. “Is it true?” 
  She nods in response and keeps walking around the table. “He is one of the few, but he seems to be able to learn control over himself. Of course, his powers may come out of hand at some occasions, and they will come out hand sooner or later. But for the meantime, I would advise you to take watch over him and yes, train him in his powers. He must learn before they begin to strike; they will strike sooner than you think. He must be prepared.”
  I groan and try to speak, and then, I finally manage to utter, “Prepared for what?” It comes out as a wheeze at first, but then, it comes stronger as it sounds like a whisper, barely audible, but stronger than a wheezing. 
  “I’m sure Grindelwald here must’ve told you,” the woman says. 
  “Yes, I did tell him, Jazmin,” Grindel answers.
  “About the war?” I whisper. 
  “Yes, about the war. John, we need your help. We need you to lead us. You are stronger than-“Jazmin says.
  “-Than I thought. Yes, I know, but I can’t do it,” I mutter as I grip the table and manage to sit on the table. 
  “John, we already spoke about this,” Grindel tells me. 
  “I agreed on training, not on being your leader,” I reply. 
  I cough a little and compose myself. I blink a few times and then jump from the table onto the floor.
  “Where do you think you’re going?” Jazmin whispers in my ear. 
  I turn around and, surprised, see that she is standing exactly where she was. “Home,” I answer.
  I keep on walking and when I reach the door, I try walking through it, but an invisible force pushes me away from it. 
  “Let me out, please,” I say calmly. 
  “You’re too injured to be running around the city. Plus, it’s too late,” Jazmin answers me.
  I decide to take on another road and say, “Louise Pattinson. That is your real name. You’re not Jazmin. You’re Louise. Am I right?” I turn around and look at her face, wide in disbelief. 
  “How do you-?” She inquires.
  “What is he talking about?” A bedraggled man asks as he scratches his brawny hair. 
  “You can’t know. Nobody knows,” Louise says.
  “I know,” I answer. 
  She breaks into tears and starts muttering, “It was ten years ago.” 
  I turn around in shock. I had definitely not expected for this to happen, but I decide not to say anything against it. 
  “My town was under the siege of the Government,” she continues. “There was nothing I could do. But then, I just got out of control and killed everyone. The Government took me after they had killed my whole family. And I just...I escaped. And yes, I am Louise. I can’t remember the details of it all. I just know that I turned out to be a Healer and well, here I am.” She then looks at me and asks, “How did you know my real name?” 
  “I just...I don’t know. I was daydreaming one day, about this girl that had your name. And, well, she looked like you. Of course, younger, and without all those...scars. And her eyes, they were dark brown,” I reply. 
  She looks at me and smiles. Then, her eyes turn a shade of hazel. And then, her eyes turn dark brown, exactly the color that I had seen in the girl. “I am also a Changer. I can change my facial features and else. I can’t change my whole body and make a new person, though,” she mutters, moving her hair out of her face, head bent low.
  “Couldn’t you change your face to one without scars?” I ask her as politely as I can.
  “I prefer to stay with them. They remind me of my family and everyone I lost. I could also heal them, being a Healer and-“she says as I interrupt. 
  “What’s up with all those names? Healers, changers, berserkers, mentals...what do they all mean?” I inquire, the question finally jumping out, the pressure being too strong to keep that question for myself. 
  “Wait, where did you hear the last two you just said?” Grindel asks quickly. 
  “I heard you and the doctor talking about those things. He called me one of those: a berserker. What does that mean? He said I was dangerous and that I had to be kept in quarantine or else I could kill many,” I answer, my eyebrows knit together. 
  “You shouldn’t have heard that. It’s too soon for you to know what that is. I only told you your true nature because I knew that your powers were rising. It is hard when powers go out of control, and yours, sir, are way out of control. Especially from what I saw today, it is evident that we must start your training. You have to learn how to canalize your powers before something happens,” he mutters rapidly, more to himself than to anyone else. 
  “What does that mean?” I repeat. 
  “John, it is not the time for me to tell you. You’re just beginning to learn. We can’t just-“he says.
  “I’ll tell him,” the bedraggled man says. “Starters first; my name is Orson. I’m a Lunar. You see, there are different types of Outsiders, each classified either by their personality or the type of powers they have. Some are hard to know by their powers, and so they are classified with their personality. 
  “I’m a Lunar, and so I transform into a wolf. I’m not a Shifter, like some might say. Shifters can change into every animal possible, mythological creatures included. I can only transform into a wolf, and that’s basically the whole of my powers. Then, there are plenty others: Healers, basically they have healing powers; Changers, as Jaz...Louise, told you, can change their features; Seer, who can penetrate the depths of time and see what is, has, and will happen; Illusionists, masters of illusions, they can basically play with your mind. There are many other types of Outsiders like the Benders, masters of the elements; the Kinect, masters of force and any other thing that has to do with science and stuff; and infinity of Outsiders. Those are the most commonly heard of. 
  “There are stronger, darker, cleverer Outsiders with a different control. These are eight masters: the masters of Sound; masters of Minds; masters of Hiding; masters of Light; masters of Dark; masters of Lore; masters of Souls; and at last, the Berserkers.
  “The Sound masters control, as said, sound. Masters of Mind can twist your mind in ways that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. Masters of Hiding have the highest capability of surviving in any grounds thanks to their capability of camouflage. Master of Light can use the light against you, as do the Dark masters. The masters of Lore control everything that has to do with the ground and stones and metals. Masters of Souls can render you useless with a single glance, thanks to their ability to control your soul. And last but not least, the Berserkers.
  “You should know that we are not quite sure what Berserkers are masters of. They are not the strongest when at peace, but when they turn angry or overwhelmed by feelings themselves, they turn berserk. That’s the reason of their names. These are the strongest, since feelings are quite easy to bring to surface with a single thought. But with strength comes the lack of control. They aren’t able to control their powers really well, especially when angry. Some call them masters of Feelings, but that sounds stupid, and so we just leave them at Berserkers. They are quite a reduced quantity, since most die because of their powers. They simply can’t handle what they do, and they end up dead. They are quite good leaders.
  “Now, from what I’ve heard, you’ve had an episode recently. Would you mind telling me how it felt?” 
  I am amazed by the knowledge of the man, but I quickly answer the question. I recount the episode and he stares at me with a frown. He puts his chin in his hand, which stands in his knee, face taut in concentration. He opens his mouth as if to talk a few times, but then he falls silent. Finally, he says, “I would say you’ve got enough proof there of a Berserker looming in you, but you don’t seem to be quite an ordinary anything really. Berserkers would’ve killed, whilst you managed to stop. Ordinary Outsiders wouldn’t have turned even to harm in that amount. You’re quite an interesting character, I must say.” 
  He falls silent yet again, and after a couple of minutes of silence, he sighs and stutters, “I would say you’re a Berserker, but it is hard to be sure with what you’ve told me.” Then, he looks at Grindel and, after stretching, says, “I would train him if I were you. It’d help in discovering his true nature. We need to know his true nature, and quick. The hunt is starting, Grindelwald. There have been two murders reported already. One of them was Holly Forlon, our spy.” 
  “No way! But she was working with the Government, wasn’t she?” Grindelwald says in sudden surprise. 
  “You said it. She was; past tense. After they found who she was helping, they cut her off the chain. Heard she died in when a mysterious fire sprung inside her house,” Orson replies. 
  “Probably set fire to her house themselves,” Louise says.
  “Oh, they did. I went to her house after it happened. There were two spots without any burning mark upon them. One of them was the place where Holly kept the information that she later handed to us. I actually searched that one,” Orson tells us.
  “Did you find anything?” Grindel asks. 
  “Empty. Not one spot of information left in it. And then, the other spot, it had some letters imprinted on it. ‘C.H.’, the letters said. Never heard of something similar; could be anything, really. Those are quite common letters for anything,” Orson replies. 
  “We could ask Kate if she knows,” Grindel advices. 
  “Kate? Yes, we could. But remember she is Seer. If she does see anything, it still could end up in no answer,” Orson answers.
  “Ask me for what?” A young girl says as she walks into the room. She looks barely a year older than me, that being sixteen years old, but she looks quite menacing and confused as well. 
  “We need to know what some letters mean. But we would have to go to Holly’s house, though. Are you up for it?” Grindel inquires. 
  “Yeah, sure, haven’t gotten out of this place since a couple of years ago. Fresh air would be great for my lungs,” Kate says.
  “Well then, let’s get going,” Orson commands.
  As we get out of the place, I notice that it is big enough to house about some thirty people in it without any space problems. But as we get out, I notice that there are only five of us. Then, I remember my training and ask Grindel, “Hey, weren’t we going to train today?” 
  He looks down at me and nods. “What better place to train than in the real world?” He transpires. We walk a few houses down and, after finding an empty corridor, we squeeze in it. 
  “What are we doing?” I whisper in Grindel’s ear. 
  “You’ll see,” he answers.
  As everyone grabs hold of Grindel’s hand, I make out for his hand, but they pop out of existence just as my hand touches his. I am left alone in the corridor and I sigh. I sit down and wait for them, if they even dare come back for me. Then, I hear a soft pop! as Grindel appears. I look up at him, my eyebrows raised in question. He offers me his hand and I take it. He lifts me up, and as soon as my feet are planted on the ground, we disappear. A tingling sensation runs down my spine. As we appear in front of the other three, I notice a burnt brick house standing behind their backs.
  A big, elegant house looms above our heads. Hints of blue streak across the now burnt-red walls. There is no door where there should be one. Instead, there is a heap of ashes where the door should be. The walls seem sturdy, yet damaged by the fire. As we make our way inside the house, pain flares in my head. 
  Visions attack me: A squat, handsome lady stands in a kitchen, preparing food for a whole family as she hums. Then, she’s sitting with the family in a long wooden table as they all laugh and enjoy the food. Afterwards, she appears preparing for something, dressed in black when all of sudden, men break into her house. She streaks across the house and starts fighting with the men. With surprising speed, she controls water and kills several men. Soon, she gets cornered, and finally the men get hold of her. She appears back at her bed, restrained and unconscious. She opens her eyes and struggles to break free as she screams behind her mouth-gag. And then, the whole house is set ablaze. Men with uniforms bearing the letters C.H. stand there, laughing at the screams uttered by the woman. 
  I lay across the floor as the visions stop. I slowly stand up. And as I look across the hallways and else, I notice that it is not as it was just a few seconds ago. I walk across the kitchen, taking a knife in my hands, then running up the flight of stairs. As I reach the second story, I notice Kate lying on the floor, her throat open, blood gushing out of it as she clings to life, slowly drifting away. I crouch besides Kate and press my hand against her neck, trying to prevent the blood from running. As my hand touches her skin, I notice that she quickly inhales and her eyes flit sideways.
  “Quick, there’s someone here. Run, don’t stay. Run as fast as you can,” she quickly says.
  “I can’t leave you. How’s everyone else?” I ask her.
  “They’re fine. We shouldn’t have come. They’re looking for someone. Someone important,” she mutters as terror runs over her face.
  “Who are they looking for? Is it Grindel?” I quickly inquire. 
  “It’s you. It was you all this time. Oh, John, please. Get out of here,” she answers as her eyes fall on mine. 
  I stand and, as I release my grasp on her, she starts gurgling on her own blood. Just as I reach for her, her whole body goes stiff; her eyes wide open in terror. I feel eyes staring down at me and a tingling sensation on my neck. Just as I am turning around, I feel a huge hand knocking me down as it hits me hard on my left temple. I look up at my aggressor. I notice it’s a woman by the way she stands and is dressed. She scoops me up and flings my body onto her shoulder with surprising strength. Out of a corridor, I hear shouts. Grindelwald runs straight at me and throws something at the woman. She just turns and thrusts her hand at the air in front of the incoming object. I notice it’s a knife, and then, just as it was directed at the woman, it suddenly flies straight at Grindelwald. He dodges just in time, but it is enough to let the woman escape. As she runs out of the building, she crosses past the entrance and then, I don’t know if by a trick of the eye or a real thing, I notice two giant scorching gold letters: C.H. And then, as by exertion or the force of the blow that comes after, my body turns limp on her shoulder as I become unconscious.

 

  When I come back to, I see a blinding light burning my eyes. I squint at the light, and out of it comes a young woman. She stands in front of me, wearing a lab coat. Her hair is tied back in a golden ponytail. She looks pretty, but there is something wrong with the sight of her. As my eyes travel across her body, trying to find the error, my eyes suddenly come to her eyes. They are red, redder than blood; redder than fire; redder than a brick; her eyes burn intensely into mine. As I try to sit, she pushes me back to the table, her touch leaving me breathless, a burning cold where her hand touched my skin. I look up at her drowsily and then, I feel something sharp entering my arm. I instantly react by sitting down. But again, she pushes me back down onto the table. Pain runs all over my body and then it subsides. I lay on the metal table. The woman walks around the table as she inspects me. Then, she leaves with a smile spelling satisfaction on it. Then, I hear the door click open and then close as a man walks into the room. His graying dark hair is combed back in an elegant fashion. He wears a dark brown suit and dark brown trousers. He seems to be an elegant man, but his smile is a mischievous smile. 
  “You don’t know who I am, right?” He says.
  “No,” I respond coldly. 
  “Well then, manners first. My name is Narcissus Young. My last name is quite ironic, to be honest, since I’m not quite young. I’ll be sixty-three this year, as a matter of fact,” He says, a grin etched on his face.
 I stare coldly at him, not planning to respond. 
  “Well then, I expected manners from your part as well. I’m the president of this corporation. I am the one chosen by the Government to exterminate those of your kind. 
  “This corporation? What is it about, you’re wondering? Well, as you might know, its objective is to destroy those of the kind that call themselves ‘Outsiders’. Our name is that which you have surely been seeing for quite a while: ‘C.H.’ or rather, as we like to call ourselves, Corporeal Hybrids. 
  “Now, why such a peculiar name, you must be asking yourself? Well, you see. We test with the blood of our victims before they are submitted to their deserved death. After we draw some blood from our victims, we call for subjects to try on the new ‘vaccine’, and when the blood is running through their veins...well, they are quite dangerous, they say. Some manage to control themselves; others die as their blood doesn’t manage to adapt, and, Outsider blood being stronger, it kills them; others just turn wild. 
  “The girl that was here a while ago, she was one of them. Hybrids, they are. After they are tested, some escape and die in the act of trying while others surrender and lend their strength to us. It is not a pity to get rid of your kind,” he says, spitting the words with disgust. 
  “My kind?! IT IS YOUR KIND WHO’S MAKING A MASS MURDER HERE! NOT OURS! YOURS!” I shout as the anger suppressing manages to boil my blood at such level that I am no longer under control. I look straight at his face and imagine him strangling. 
  “Now, now. You don’t think us stupid enough as to let you use your powers, surely? Why do you think that lady was in here? Definitely not to kill you. At least not yet.
  “You see, we cannot lose someone like you. You’re too valuable for us. You are too young, though, to understand the true value of a true leader. 
  “Oh, you must know that you’re not ordinary. You are no ordinary Outsider, you see. Your blood is pure. You are full of hatred and sadness and misery. That makes you stronger. And a Berserker running around with so many things to take revenge from! Oh no, we can’t let you out there. You’ll kill plenty at your time, but not if I can stop it. 
  “Now, seeing as how valuable as you are, I will give you two options. Option number one is that you surrender to us and work for us to try to get rid of those of your species,” he whispers.
  “Not an option. What is the second option?” I inquire.
  “Option number two is, you die. We draw blood from you first, and then, you die a painful death. I will let you decide, though. That much I can permit,” he finishes. 
  “How about you let me go without need of surrender or death?” I negotiate. 
  “No, no, no. I can’t let you live out there. So, choose,” he commands.
  “None,” I say firmly. 
  “It is pitiful that you choose to die,” Narcissus whispers with fake disappointment. 
  “Who says I chose that?” I say. I burst out laughing as I throw my head back in laughter after having managed to sit down on the table. 
  “So you’re working for us, then?” Narcissus asks. 
  “No, I’m choosing freedom,” I say. 
  All of a sudden, a burning sensation rages in my veins and I fall to the floor, crawling as a horrible sensation runs through me. 
  “And that, sir, is what happens when you try to defy me,” Narcissus says bleatingly. 
  “I think I win this time,” I yell as I look up at him, my eyes burning yellow. 
  A roar escapes my mouth. A very realistic jaguar roar, I notice. And then, when I look at myself in a mirror, I notice that I am no longer standing there. An elegant jaguar stands there on all fours, prowling menacingly. I roar again at Narcissus. Who, at first, backs away with fear. As he comes to his senses, he presses a button at his side. An alarm blares, hurting my now more sensitive ears. I jump on top of Narcissus, biting his face with an animal rage. He shouts as I bite down his face. I jump off him as the door opens. The same young woman stands there, and then, her eyes glow redder than they were and her whole body shifts, transforming into a hideous combination of a gorilla, a lion, and a serpent. She lunges at me, but I manage to dodge her as I run past her, escaping the building. I run across the hallways, jumping on top of people and throwing them at the floor when I notice I can seize the opportunity. I look back and notice that the woman still is chasing me after all. 
  I turn on my heels and roar at her. Then, a hot sensation runs across my body as I slowly rise. I notice that I’m back to my human form, fully dressed. The mutation runs at me. I summon all my will to try to attack her with anything. As the she-mutt nears me, I feel a familiar adrenaline rush run inside me. I smile and then, thrusting my hand in the air, push her leaping form back into a pitiful sprawling form. She composes herself and attacks me again. Again, the same feeling runs through me, but this time, I let her come near me. I look around me and notice a sharp edge of a metal desk jutting out of it, almost coming off and sharp enough as to impale on skin. My hand moves down, opening completely, summoning the metal piece. When she is near enough, I use my full strength, but the metallic thing doesn’t budge. I press on as she is only inches away from me. Again, the metal object stays put and the she-mutt leaps into the air, ready to eat me whole. She opens her mouth wide open, and then, then metal object flies into my hand. I grasp it in both my hands tightly, and impale it in the roof of the she-mutt’s mouth. The sword-like thing travels across her head, jutting out of her ugly head. 
  Something warm trickles down my arms. I look down at them and see that it’s blood. I stand there, heaving. I hear shouts coming from all the hallways and then, I close my eyes. My mind travels far to the building plan and there I see a way of escape. I run blindly at my objective and then, as I reach it, I realize that it’s a gigantic glass pane. Plenty of armed men run at me, some shooting away, missing by inches, others trying to get a good view of me as to shoot me down with a single bullet. I run straight at the glass pane as everyone skids to a halt and aim, then shooting as I hover in mid-air. Then, I am falling again off a building, twice intentionally. TRANSFORM INTO A BIRD! My mind screams. The same hot sensation glances inside me and I feel my body squeeze into a smaller form. When I look sideways at a window pane, aparts from seeing people staring at the previously-human form, I notice that I look like an ordinary black dove. I swoop down, a bit off balance since it’s my first time flying naturally. I flutter my wings and I slowly rise at the same level with my capturers. I can clearly see Narcissus standing there, bleeding wildly from the wounds I made, berating the poor workers as they let their prey escape. I quickly land on a rooftop far away and call Grindelwald. He answers quickly and says, “Are you okay?!”
  “Yes, yes, I’m okay. Listen, I know what C.H. stands for and what they are doing,” I quickly respond.
  “Tell me!”
  “It stands for Corporeal Hybrids. Apparently they are a corporation supported by the Government that aspires to get rid of every single Outsider that walks on Earth. Now, I just escaped their facility. Nearly killed the head of the Hybrids and found out something important.”
  “Yeah? What is it?”
  “Well, you know, when they take Outsiders, they not only kill them. They take a blood sample and use it on other subjects. The results are terrorizing, though.”
  “What are they? What happens then?”
  “After they use the blood on subjects, the subjects either die, or end up working for the Hybrids. The thing is, the subjects end up being literally hybrids. They mutate and transform into hideous beasts. I killed one of them, and Grindel?”
  “Yeah?”
  “I think they’ll be after you all. Plus, I think I found one new power.”
  “What is it?!”
  “Animorphing,” I mutter. 

4: Chapter 4: The Kin of the Eight

Chapter 4: The Kin of the Eight

  What actually got me back home was Grindel’s reaction when I told him what had happened. I know that it was a close call this time, but there was not much I could’ve done. If it hadn’t been for my powers, I would never have gotten out of there...I would never have been trapped if I didn’t have powers, now that I come to think of it. I’d rather stay with my powers though; I don’t care if it means danger, but without my powers I wouldn’t know of this magnificent side of the world. 
  As some would say, my powers are a blessing. But they can also be a curse at times like this. From what Grindel told me yesterday when we met back at the Outsider Safe House (that’s what they call it) Grindel told me everything. Not literally everything, since nobody knows the meaning of everything, at least not the true meaning, but he told me everything (here we go again with the incomplete word) he knew about the world of the Outsiders. New information was added to the basic information I was given the night past. 
  Apparently, the war with the Corporeal Hybrids had started seconds after I had escaped their facility, jumping to attack at defenseless Outsiders (not that Outsiders are defenseless with their powers and else). Only three of the seventy victims managed to escape alive. One of them was a woman by the name of Olivia Clearman. Apparently when scared, she is dangerous. From what Grindel told me, she used her Illusionist powers to escape. She tortured some by showing them their worst fears, and fooled the others my making the running workmates look like her. And I thought that Illusionists were not really a problem. Hell, I was wrong. Then, the other two were men. One of them called James Morgan, who escaped thanks to his Clairvoyance, since as soon as he knew, he avoided the place where they would catch him. Then the other one, Logan Hue managed to defeat the Hybrids by turning into a wolf since he is a Lunar. Of course, the Corporeal Hybrids don’t know what our powers are, and so they inject the paralyzer into you. Apparently, the paralyzer is a general one, and having a new-found power broke the spell, making me able to use my powers again. But what I felt wasn’t the normal feeling, or so did Grindel tell me. He said that I must’ve drawn the paralyzer’s strength and made it my own, so that if they catch me again, I won’t be affected by the paralyzer. The ingenuity of your body.
  Later, Grindel told me that Olivia talked to him personally, asking for a meeting with me. And so, here I stand, waiting for Olivia behind a big glass building. 
  I see a shadow walking straight at me and I wait. I wait until the shadow nears and enters the hidden room behind the trapdoor in the floor. We enter and, after closing the door, I turn the light on the room. The room glows red with its crimson walls. The light is burning white but, as a red room would normally turn the light red, the light turns hot blue. When I look at her face, I am trapped by her eyes. Though brown, they have a whole history and they look beautiful. Her hair shines, dark brown where no light strikes, brown where light strikes. I look into her eyes and read her name. I confirm it’s Olivia and start, “So, what do you wanted to talk to me about?”
  “Well, you see, I wanted to talk to you because I heard that you are planning on recruiting a whole new group of Outsiders.”
  That is a piece of information I forgot to mention. Grindel told me that I had to start making my group of Outsider while he worked with his so that the chances of terminating the Corporeal Hybrids rose. I had to accept, since he threatened with not training me if I didn’t make my own. He also told me that I always needed to be with a few because I had to be protected at all times, especially since I was the principal target of the CH. And so I agreed. 
  “Yes, I am. So, how old are you?”
  “Twenty years old, and still working fine.”
  “Where do you come from?”
  “United States of America, naturally.”
  “So, why do you want to help me?”
  “Well, I just like to help,” she answers me sympathetically. 
  I sigh and nod. Then, I start walking around the room. 
  “You are an Illusionist, I heard. Is that right?”
  “Yes. Though I don’t like using my powers much. Don’t like hurting people.”
  “Surprisingly understandable. I don’t like to hurt people either, though being a Berserker, I can’t help it many times.”
  “So it is true? That you are a Berserker, I mean.”
  “Why would it not be?”
  “I don’t know. So, what are your powers?”
  “Well, from what I have seen, I can teleport and I can animorph.”
  “Animorph? What is that exactly?”
  “The ability to transform into animals.”
  “Really? I love animals!” 
  I smile and laugh. 
  “So do I. Wolves, especially. Such elegant but ferocious animals.”
  “I must admit that that is true.”
  “And, apparently, I have one more power in stock. Telekinesis, I think it is.”
  “Oh wow, you truly are powerful.”
  She sighs and silence penetrates the room. I look up and down at her and I notice that she seems kind and quite understanding. 
  “When did you learn about your powers?”
  “About when I was three years old.”
  “Wow! Really?”
  “Yes. Tried to jack my mother. My mind just fooled the man into giving him his things instead than taking my mom’s things. Worked perfectly.”
  “Never heard of such a thing before. You know, I like you. I think I will accept you inside my group.”
  “That’s amazing! How many are we?”
  “Well, so long...just the two of us. I am still working on recruiting more people,” I say candidly. 
  “I could help. I know many Outsiders that are more than willing to help you, especially in these dangerous times.” 
  I nod, smile at her and open the trapdoor. She hugs me and we rush out of the area. I teleport both of us to a clear space. We shake hands and she leaves with a huge smile on her face. I notice that, as she walks, the air in front of me shimmers and then, there is no Olivia left to see. I turn around and teleport home. 
There, I wait for Grindel, since today is training day. Actually, all days have turned out to be training days. Ever since yesterday, Grindel and I agreed that we should start training next day, that being today, and keeping with it until I no longer need help with controlling my powers. Of course, being a Berserker, I can and never will be able to control my powers completely, but I’ll have to manage with that. 
  The doorbell rings and I run outside, calling goodbye and running downstairs, taking a copy of the keys that open my house and hurtling into Grindel’s car. 
  “Why are we in a car when we can teleport?” I ask him.
  “Because I teleporting is not a way of transport. Plus, we need to hide our powers for a while,” he answers.
  “Why do we need to hide our powers?” I inquire.
  “Corporeal Hybrids are looking for us, and a single activation of power will raise an alarm inside the corporation, warning everyone and giving away the exact position. That’s why we shouldn’t use our powers just now. I left Sebastian back at the Safe House for a reason. He’s a Protector. Protectors can hide others when necessary. They just work their magic and it hides people.”
  I nod and wait. Grindel turns on the radio and drives out of the parkway. We head off into the mountains slowly. Meanwhile, we hear again and again too many of my favorite songs: “Shark Attack” by Grouplove is repeated a few times, so does “Tokyo (Vampires & Wolves)” by The Wombats, and “Best Day of My Life” by American Authors as well. Then “La La La” by Naughty Boys and plenty other songs I love. We shout the lyrics as the songs go on and then, I connect my phone and play the entire Fall Out Boy album “Save Rock & Roll” and some from “Infinity on High”. 
  We reach the hideout and we enter the place. I notice that it’s an old, abandoned storage, big enough to house some seventy people. “So, this is where we’re training then?” I ask. Grindel nods and enters the storage. I enter it too and walk around the room. 
  “I’m going to need your help in order to clean up this place,” Grindel says.
  “It’s gonna take a while,” I admit. 
  “Not with your powers,” he replies, looking at me.
  “Weren’t we supposed not to use our powers?” I inquire.
  “We’re out of boundaries,” he says simply.
  “Fair enough,” I answer.
  “Our training starts now. Use your powers to move these things out of the way, please,” Grindel says as he walks into the mess and kicks things sideways. 
  I stand in the entrance and close my eyes, opening my hands and facing my palms upwards. I feel a surge of power and I feel something lifting near me. When I open my eyes, I see a TV being lifted in the air. But then, the force wanes and the TV crashes back into the mess. 
  “Concentrate,” Grindelwald says. 
  “I’m trying,” I say as I close my eyes and concentrate again. 
  This time, I pour all my strength into it and, after nearly making my head explode, the things start moving all at once. They all lift high into the air. 
  “Excellent! Now, smash them together,” Grindelwald commands.
  I open my eyes and move my hands in a clapping motion. Everything smashes into one another, some forming a single, destructed lump. 
  “Great! Now, try to make it a ball. Move your hands around, make a ball with them as you move them,” Grindel mutters.
  I do as he says and slowly, everything combines into a huge ball of old, battered things. 
  “Throw it away,” he finally says.
  I make a throwing motion with my hands and, using my last bit of strength, send the things flying away. 
  “And that’s how you get cleaning done,” I say, laughing as I crouch on the floor. 
  Grindel laughs and sits beside me. We look at the setting sun, the beautiful orange filtering the plain. We turn around and look at each other. He stands up, offers me help, and then walks back to the car. I follow him into the car and we depart. 
  “I think that was enough training for today, you know?” He says. 
  “Yeah, I agree,” I respond.

  I lay in my bed, half asleep as I stare into the darkness. I find it comforting that I haven’t had bad dreams ever since Louise healed me. But I have to go to school tomorrow, and that isn’t much of an exciting story to tell. I lie in my bed and then, I instantly fall asleep without noticing.

  I wake up next day and do my morning school routine. I arrive at school and then sit in front of the door and wait, reading Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. I am thrilled by the action of the book since I’m actually reading it for the first time though many think that I had already read the Harry Potter series. My friends arrive and I talk to them normally. Then, at our lunch period, I walk towards the tree where we always sit, and as I pass the doctor’s room, I catch him looking at me warily. He smiles and I keep walking. When I reach the tree, Grindelwald is doing guard duty there. He calls me and I near him. 
   “Yeah?” I ask.
   “We’ll leave here at 3:30 today,” he says. 
  I nod and walk away to where my friends are.

  The day is quite a boring, normal day. I leave the school with Grindel and as we leave the parking lot he says, “You have some interesting friends.” 
  “Yeah. I chose them interesting,” I answer. 
  “Don’t you feel it?” He asks.
  “Feel what?” I inquire.
  “I thought everyone had that sense awakened at the same time their powers are. Well, there is a sixth sense that Outsiders have. We can instantly recognize other Outsiders by sight, touch, and ear. Your friends, John. They are part of us,” Grindel says.
  “My friends?” I say as I laugh. “They can’t be Outsiders. I’ve known them for more than a couple of years and they’ve never showed any signs of being Outsiders.”
  “Well, you didn’t show any sign until you awakened as one. One of them has awakened as one as well. That lad Dean, I think. He feels more powerful than usual though; same as you feel. Slightly weaker, he feels. You must talk to him tomorrow, you hear me, John?”
  I frown and nod. Dean can’t be an Outsider, can he? I say in my head. No, he can’t, I reassure myself. We drive back to the abandoned house and we enter it. It is wiped clean as I left it yesterday. As I look around, I notice that there’s something weird. Right in the middle of the place, a row of practice dummies stand. A table a few feet away stand in front of each dummy. I walk to the tables and notice that they hold different weapons. One holds swords of any size, shape, and weight. The other one holds knife of all sizes and shapes, each one sharper than the other. The next one holds a couple of bows, one bigger than I am, and the other half my size; it also holds three quivers full of arrows. Then, the other table has rings strewn over it. But they aren’t rings, I notice. They have sharp edges every now and then. 
  “Chakrams, they are called,” Grindel speaks behind me. “I put all this here after you left yesterday. I came back and arranged this. We are training with weapons now.”
  “But, what about my powers?” I ask.
  “If your powers have gone out of control, you should try not to use them; and it is preferable to resort to weapons before you give out what your powers are.
  “Now, if you see here, I have chosen old school weapons specifically because it is easier to hit someone of the enemy side. With guns, you may blow the head off an unwanted target. And we don’t want to waste any more Outsiders in times like these.” 
  Grindel leads me to the knife area. I notice that they look different from ordinary knives and so I suppose these are throwing knifes. 
  “I want you to aim at the dummy’s heart and throw the knives,” Grindel says.
  I grab one knife and throw it directly at the dummy’s heart. It bounces of his pelvis and then hits the floor. 
  “Try again,” Grindel says. 
  I pick up another knife and throw it at the dummy. The knife finally impales a bit below its ribs. 
  “Great. Keep trying. Practice makes the master,” Grindel mutters and smiles.
  I keep on trying. Throw after throw, I notice that my aim is getting better after the fiftieth throw. And then, I finally get the knife on the heart. 
  “There you go,” he tells me. 
  I keep on throwing fiercely and, one after the other, the knives impale around one another, since there is no space for it to get impaled in the heart. The last one I throw at the dummy’s head and then, freedom grips me and the dummy’s head flies away without anything even touching it. 
  “Don’t let your feelings run wild. Remember what you are,” Grindel says gravely. “Now, I think we should move on to the sword field.” 
  We walk towards the sword fighting area and I near the table where the swords are. 
  “How am I going to practice real fighting with a still dummy?” I say, thinking out loud.
  “First you need to practice the basics. You’ll later see with the fighting,” Grindel orders.
  I nod and, after taking the swords and weighing each, I take the smallest and lightest. It seems a little more than three feet long and really light. I stand in front of the dummy and start slashing at the dummy. After what seems like an hour I stop hacking away at the dummy and rest a bit. 
  “I think it’s time for the fighting,” Grindel utters behind me.
  I walk towards the dummy a bit farther away from the first dummy, which is now all cut open and slashed, and walk towards the second dummy. I notice this dummy is a full-bodied dummy. I stand in front of it and the dummy suddenly bursts into life. It stands there, still, and so I run at it and slash horizontally. The dummy quickly parries the blow and goes still again. I look back at Grindel and he nods encouragement. I nod back at him and start attacking the dummy with all my strength. The dummy parries and attacks as well. And then, I feel a sting in my left side. I touch the wound and feel blood coming out of it. Strength renewed by anger, I start attacking fiercely and soon, I am covered in slashes, but so is the dummy, which now moves versatile and quick. I don’t give it time to take a break, but that also leaves me breathless quickly.
  I stop, thinking that the dummy will stop as well like it did before, but then I notice that the thing starts coming towards me. Fear grips me and I take a huge gulp of air. I attack it as well, but it overcomes my attacks quickly. And then, something else joins my fear: my wish to live. Anger filters me; my powers instantly activate and my body shifts into that of a wolf. I glare and gnarl at the dummy and, as it swings its sword, I roar. As the sword makes contact with my skin, I howl. The dummy instantly explodes into tiny pieces of metal. The sharp groan of metal breaking is heard. The dummy explodes inward, and some pieces impale into my skin. I give a low cry as one sticks out of my neck and arms and I slowly take each one away. Pinpricks of blood escape my body as each wound is opened. I hear footsteps running towards me. 
  “That was...” Grindel starts.
  “Unpredictable,” I finish.
  “Quite. And extraordinary; that pretty much proved that you, as a Berserker, have great power, and you will be able to control your powers from what I saw,” Grindel mutters.
  “You know, I’m tired of this world. I’m tired of talking about powers all the time. I’m tired of not being able to spend one complete day without having to use them or something. I’m tired of not being able to worry about if I will or will not be attacked by some crazy people who have chosen to mutate just because they want to kill others. I’m tired of this all. Why can’t I be a normal kid?” I finally say, as my whole thoughts spill out.
  “Aren’t we all tired of being afraid? The thing is, John, we have nothing else we can do about it. It’s like normal people, they have to study and work all their lives as we have to train all our lives and live in fear of being killed or discovered every single day for the past couple of years.”
  “I know, Grindelwald! But we can stop this! There is a war going on. All we have to do is win it and restore the peace. You know we can do it. And don’t go on telling me that I have to be your leader because I’m stronger than everyone and I’m your last hope, because I haven’t done anything that other people haven’t done already!”
  “You have done something no one else has. You’ve managed to escape a close call inside the Corporeal Hybrids main facility. You have managed to stop yourself from killing someone whilst having such a desire to kill them that it is nearly impossible to stop, especially being a Berserker. You have broken the spell inside the Closing Serum and used your powers in spite of the drug’s effect and you have drained its components. You are better than us. You are the hero. You are our hero. You are an Outsider; a Berserker; you are our last hope. Without you, we will lose. We need you to aid us. Once you choose us, there is no going back. Outsider or not, you will always be my little cousin. And I can’t lose you, but I have to bring you to the war. I, John, have no one else. You are my last family. But war is inevitable. I need you, we all need you. Fight for us, and we’ll fight for you. Promise me you will help us.”
  “I promise, Grindel, that I will help you fight. Okay? But you will also promise me that when the war is over and the peace is settled, you will come with me, and live with me and my family, because you are my family, closer than my own brothers and sisters feel to me. Promise?”
  “I promise,” Grindel answers with a smile.
  After a while of silence, a question that has been rolling over my head for the last few weeks finally pops out. “Why are we called Outsiders?”
  “About time you asked,” Grindel says and then sighs. “You see, the Outsiders we are actually outsiders at first. As foreigners, some called them outsiders because they were from outside the country. People didn’t know they had powers, but the name still went on. Them being big groups, it kinda imprinted upon them as if it were a brand. They carried their name with pride, and then, they settled into many places. They grew and grew, but they started marrying ordinary people, or what they call Commoners. The Commoner blood is weaker than the Outsider blood, you see, but it still is dominant over the Outsider blood. And so, as the Commoners and Outsiders mixed, their kids came out as Commoners. They carried the Outsider gene, and that’s why the Outsiders haven’t all died. Sometimes, the Outsider genes manage to stand over the Commoner genes, and that’s how we keep on living, really. 
  “Something I’m not really sure how it happened was the fact that you turned out an Outsider. I mean, everyone is an Outsider in our family, except my parents and me. Then, if you check our family tree, the last Outsider doesn’t come until the 1700s, and that’s the earliest. Then there are my parents, and then there’s me. And all of a sudden, you appeared. Of course, I was meant to be an Outsider, my two parents being Outsiders both.  But you, you are a rare specimen. Your powers, your abilities, your sudden Outsiderness. It’s quite an interesting thing, you. But well, there is not much that I can do with it. I am glad, actually. I was starting to feel a little lonely.”
  “So, was it a clan or what? How did it really start?” I ask Grindel.
  “Well, it started as a clan, yes. Though it was eight families: the Adams, the Morgans, the Keatings the Jamesons, the Harrisons, the Lawsons, the Plyerons, and the Grondies. Yes, we were one of the oldest Outsider families. We came to since the beginning of times. So did the other families. At first, we were enemies, but when we saw that we were equals, we united and formed the “Octakin”, or the Kin of the Eight. The eight families generated the eight masters. The masters of Sound were the Grondie; the masters of Light were the Jameson; the masters of Dark were the Lawson; the masters of Lore were the Plyeron; the masters of Hiding were the Keating; the masters of Minds were the Harrison; the masters of Souls were the Morgan; and at last, the Berserkers were the Adams. 
  “It is not strange for another Berserker to be born within the Adams, John. But there hasn’t been a Berserker. At least not after the Extermination began.”
  “What’s the extermination?” I inquire. 
  “The Extermination is the time when all the Berserkers were hunted and killed. All of them died in it. It happened in the late 1400s. It was a time of blood and sadness, that epoch.
  “But here you are. Another Berserker born within the depths of the Earth. And an Adams, also. You are a peculiar young boy,” Grindel says after ruffling my hair.
  “Wait, you just said the last name of my best friends: Grondie, Jameson, Lawson, Plyeron, Keating, and Harrison. Ken Grondie, Hansel Jameson, Dean Plyeron, Annabelle Lawson, Diane Keating, and Angela Harrison; those are the names of my six best friends. Would that mean...” Tension hangs in the air as I leave the sentence unfinished. 
  “Wait, what about the Morgans?” I inquire. 
  “The Morgans, you say? They are still alive and running. James Morgan...recognize that name?” Grindel asks.
  “One of the three that managed to escape, if I remember correctly,” I remember. 
  “Yeah, well, there goes one Morgan. But then, there’s his sister, Penelope Morgan. We haven’t heard about her ever since her brother was attacked. Last time            I heard, she was out hiding in Canada. The French part of Canada,” Grindel adds. 
  “Oh, okay,” I say. 
  “Shall we leave and move next training for Friday?” He asks. 
  “Please!” I mutter.
  Grindel laughs by the way that I said it, and so I join in the laughing.

  We leave the place at eight in the evening and arrive at my house at nine.  I say goodbye and leave Grindel’s car. I ring the doorbell and, as soon as my little brother opens the door, I turn around and wave goodbye at Grindel and enter the house. I quickly do my homework and open Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. I read one-hundred pages after one hour and a half of reading and close the book. I head for my bed and then I lay there for a couple of minutes as I slowly drift off.

  I wake up for another boring day at school. The memory of not having to talk about or train my powers is an enlightening thought. I can be a normal person again for one day. I dress for school and eat my breakfast. Then, we head for school for another day of lessons.

  Here I sit, waiting for another day of classes to end. It’s my final class, luckily. Spanish class starts again with Grindelwald, or Professor Adams for my classmates. Soon, class turns silent as everyone pays attention. And then, as Grindel mentions something about some amphitheater, I remember that today I was supposed to hang out with my friends. Crap! I forgot my extra clothes! My mind says in an alarming tone. Great, now I’ll have to use my powers! Just the day when I wanted to be a normal kid. Thought it will be worth it this time, I tell myself.

  As soon as the bell rings, I grab my things and head for the bathroom. I get inside one of the cubicles and quickly teleport home. There, I pick up a pair of faded blue jeans, a white shirt with something from Spirit and some dark blue socks. I put on everything, leaving the uniform in my bunk bed, then I put on some blue shoes and I teleport back to the school’s bathroom. Unintentionally, I appear exactly where some kid is getting his pants down to pee. Luckily, the door has still not being locked and so, after being screamed at the by the kid, I get out of the cubicle. I run towards the lobby, where my friends wait, fully dressed. I run towards where my dad stands and ask him for some money.
  “What...how did you...where did you get those clothes from?” My dad asks, amazed that I am dressed when I hadn’t brought any clothes. 
  “Oh, it’s nothing. These are mine. Now, could you give me some twenty-five bucks?” I inquire with a smile. 
  “Oh, take,” my dad says as he gets his wallet out and hands me the money.
  I bid him thanks and run to my friends. 
  “Where are your things?” Hansel asks.
  “I...left them with...Grindel, he’ll take them home,” I lie. 
  “Okay then, we shall leave in a while,” Hansel says, since we are being driven to the theaters by his mother, who will also accompany us since our parents won’t let us go anywhere without any adult present.

  We arrive at the theaters and wait for the girls to get here. After a couple of minutes, the three of them arrive and so we head for the movies. After we pay for the tickets (which leaves me twenty dollars left to spare), we head for the food stand and we buy popcorns and drinks (which now leaves me with fifteen dollars). I walk to the movie room and we each find ourselves a seat in a single row. I sit beside Annabelle and Diane. Angela sits a little bit off, besides Hansel and Dean, while Ken sits beside Annabelle. Hansel chats off with Hansel while Dean stays silent; Ken and Annabelle start and awkward talk and then decide not to force any words, noticing that they won’t get very far. Meanwhile, I am talking with Diane. My heart thumps loudly as I talk to her. You see, Diane is the girl that I like, but she doesn’t know, so it’s quite complicated because I’m not a very good actor, and I can notice that she already knows but she doesn’t want to break the news to me. So if you ask me, we are in a very awkward position, or at least I am. 
  The screen flashes on as the lights are turned off for a higher visibility. The previews start and I run off to the food stand and buy a few M&Ms (which leaves me off with thirteen dollars). I run back to the room and sit in my seat. I offer some M&Ms to Diane and Annabelle, then sitting silently and waiting for the movie to finally start. A few minutes off into the movie, Diane whispers into my ear, “Can you give me popcorn? I already finished mine.” I laugh a bit and agree. She starts eating from my bag. After a while, our hands meet inside the bag and, surprisingly, she doesn’t move her hand away. I look at her, and she stares back at me. She smiles and grabs my hand, placing it in the armrest with hers. I smile nervously and look back at the screen. The movie we decided to come and see is Percy Jackson: Sea of Monster. I try to concentrate, but my hand burns with Diane’s touch. She squeezes my hand and smiles at me. I smile back at her, letting myself go. 
  Then, the movie ends and the lights turn on. Disappointment enters me as the movie ends. It wasn’t a bad movie for itself, it was actually good, but as a book-based movie, it was quite horrible. My feelings feel distorted within what I actually think about it. I give up and stand. I notice that my hand is still in Diane’s and I help her stand up. She releases my hand slowly and we walk away. As we get out of the theaters, we all start judging the movie by what we think about it. 
  “It was a horrible adaptation. But, I don’t know. I kinda liked it?” Angela says uncertainly.
  “Exactly my thoughts,” I mutter.
  “I...I don’t know what to think about it,” Diane tells us.
  “Well, maybe we’ll later know? I don’t know really!” I convey. 
  “Life is cruel,” Angela claims, giving a laugh. 
  “I must agree with your claim, miss, because it’s just really cruel with us,” I admit.
  “What about The Fault in Our Stars, huh? That one was more than cruel,” Annabelle discloses. 
  “Well, that’s a different case! That’s the aim of it. Or at least, that’s the aim of what John Green wrote. That thrice accursed man. Wanted to kill us, he must’ve,” Angela replies. 
  “Quite true,” I utter after giving in to laughter.
  We all laugh for a while and then we say goodbye to one another, since our parents are starting to arrive. I kiss the girls goodbye and then I get into Hansel’s car, since he agreed to take us all to our homes.

  I sit in my bed, my hand still warm from Diane’s warmth. I look down at it as I remember what happened. But then, I notice that the warmth isn’t ordinary warmth. I look down at my hand and notice that it’s smoking a bit, some parts of my flesh a bit darker, seemingly burnt. I walk to my bathroom and rinse my hands. Where the water touches, it stings a bit, but after a while, it goes away. I stare at my hand, awestruck. The pain recedes with a little bit of water, and so does the scars. They disappear as if they hadn’t even been there at first. I am amazed by what happened. I text Diane:

  Me: Um...quick question: Did you feel anything after, you know, our hands met?

  After a while, she answers.

  Diane: Not really, why?
  Me: It kinda burned my hand...
  Diane: What? Really?
  Me: Yes...
  Diane: Well, now that you say it, I did feel something warm emanating from me, but I thought it was your hand.
  Me: My hand was cold. I thought it was your hand.
  Diane: My hand was also cold, to be honest...
  Me: Then...what was it?
  Diane: I don’t really know?
  Me: Oh...okay then...bye...
  Diane: Bye...

  I drop the phone in my bed and lie on my bed, staring at the ceiling. Slowly, I drift away.

  I am woken up by my phone vibrating at my side. I take in and check the time. 3:27 AM. Then, I look at who is calling me and I see that it says: Diane Keating. I pick up after inserting earphones in my ears. 
  “Yeah?” I say in a sleepy voice.
  “It’s been gnawing at me ever since you asked me earlier today. I’m not normal. It’s not okay. It has been happening for the last couple of days and I can’t control it. I’m a freak, John. A freak. I can’t help it!” Diane shouts on the other end of the call.
  “Diane, you are not a freak. Please, tell me what’s happening!” I answer, fully aware now and scared.
  “I can’t tell you. Meet me at the playground in my neighborhood,” Diane states.
  “When?” I answer resolutely. 
  “In ten,” she replies.
  “Now? But, why?” I ask.
  “Don’t ask. Just do,” she quickly commands. 
  She hangs up, leaving me waiting. Oh great, now I need to use my powers again. Oh well. Hope this is worth it, my mind says as I change into some dressing clothes. I pace around the room, trying to concentrate on Diane’s neighborhood’s playground. It is hard to do, since I am still a bit sleepy, but at last, I feel a tugging sensation and when I open my eyes, I see that I have arrived. I start walking around aimlessly and then, I see a figure walking towards the playground. Her hair shines even in the moonlight, as does her eyes. When she gets to me, she jumps into my arms, hugging me tightly. I notice that her eyes shine with tears. 
  “Hey, are you okay?” I ask.
  “Not really. John, I’m not okay. I am a freak. I just can’t...I don’t know what to do. When you texted me, I realized that something bad was happening because I had burnt you. It just happens. I can’t control it!” She says as she starts to freak out. 
  “Hey, hey, calm down. Tell me what happened,” I advice calmly.
  She shakes her head. 
  “Diane, you have to tell me. You can’t just bear everything yourself and...did someone turn on the light?” I utter.
  She shakes her head again. 
  “Then where does the light come from?” I ask, affronted by the sudden flashing of a light. 
  I look around and there, out of the corner of my eye, I notice a small but bright flame burning hot on Diane’s hand. 
  “Holy!” I shout as I jump in the air and back away. 
  She looks at me and I see tears threatening to spill. “I knew you wouldn’t understand. Nobody will ever understand. I don’t know what’s happening. I’m a freak, I’m a piece of-“ she accurses herself. 
  “-Hold on. I never said that I didn’t know what that was about. I know more than you think I know. You’re not alone Diane. I am here. We are no different.”
  “I can burn things without meaning to! You can’t do that, I’m sure!”
  “I can’t burn things without need of a fire source, but I can do other things,” I confess. 
  She stares at me in bewilderment. “Really? What can you do?” She asks hopefully. 
  I sigh and reply, “I think I’ll better show you. It’s a lot less complicated.”
  I offer my hand, which she reluctantly takes. I think of the first thought that filters my mind: the giant Christ, El Cristo del Picacho. We pop into existence in its head. Suddenly, Diane screams and starts moving sideways.
  “Diane, stop it! We’re gonna fall!” I warn her. 
  Suddenly, she stops, her chest moving quickly. “Why are we here?” 
  “I told you I could do other things.”
  “You mean you can...” She looks straight at my face. “You can...pop into existence everywhere you want to?”
  “Yes, I can. I can teleport, Diane. We are different. The types of us are called Outsiders. We are a society of supernatural people. It is incredible to be in it.”
  She stares at me for a while and then says silently, “Could you take me home, please?” 
  “Sure,” I answer. 
  I look at her and see, sadly, that she has a resolute face. She looks scared and determined to get away from me. Her grip on my hand slackens a bit. I make us go back to her house. We appear in front of her house. She waves me goodbye instead of the usual kiss in the cheek and enters her house. I look down at the door of her house; her silhouette as she enters and closes the door. I teleport away from here. 
  I stand, once again, in the rooftop of the INTUR building, though this time there is no suicidal intention. I walk to the edge and sit, my legs dangling from the rooftop. I sit there, gazing at the rising sun. The red dragon flies in the sky, slowly rising above the mountains. 
  When the first light of the day strikes the rooftop, I decide it’s time to head back home, and so I teleport back.