Chapter 3
2149words
There he is, Nathaniel Le Crane. Every time I see him, the memories of elementary and middle school flood back to me: the taunts, the cruel pranks, the endless humiliation. Those years of torment are unforgettable, etched into my mind like scars, something that he always enjoy to remind me through his presence alone.
Nathaniel stared at me, reading, his expression always unreadable. I'm not sure what he sees when he stares at me... I don't have anything significant in my eyes. Then he interrupts my thoughts when he lets out a deep, almost theatrical sigh before speaking. "Slyvian, I understand how you're feeling," he said, his voice softer now... almost soothing.
"Sometimes, you get tired of being told what to do by others." He stepped closer, invading my personal space, and gently took hold of my bruised hand. His touch was soft, almost tender, contrasting sharply with the coldness in his eyes.
"Sometimes, you just want to bang your head against the wall, don't you?" he continued, his voice low, it's really persuasive. "Hearing your name at every beck and call, feeling like you're just a puppet for everyone else's whims." He began to rub the back of my bruised hand gently with his right hand, the motion almost hypnotic. "That's why some of us choose to block others out, to retreat into our own little world. It's the only way to keep our sanity intact."
I stood frozen; I felt my heart pounding in my chest; I hated this feeling. Every instinct screamed at me to run, to pull away from his grasp, but I couldn't move. It felt as though my body was betraying me, rooted to the spot by an invisible force.
"But you, Slyvian. Don't deserve such luxury." The gentleness in his voice vanished quickly, replaced by a cold tone. As soon as the words left his lips, he squeezed my bruised hand tightly, the pain sharp and immediate. I flinched and cried out, but Nathaniel cut it off, muffling my cries when he clamped his other hand over my mouth. His grip was firm, his hand rough against my lips. "Shh, don't yell," he whispered sweetly in my ear. "It's far too early for that."
He leaned in closer, his lips almost brushing against my ear as he spoke. "Listen closely, Slyvian. A mutant like you needs to know her place. You need to listen to your superiors. So when Andrew asks for your notebook," his voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, "you give him your fucking notebook, do you understand?" His hand squeezed even tighter, sending a wave of pain through my hand, making me scream into his palm.
"I said, do you understand? I won't say it the third time," His voice was sharp, almost feral. I quickly nodded, my eyes squeezed shut against the pain.
"Good." Nathaniel's tone returned to its usual calm, and he finally released my hand, stepping back. The pain lingered, my hand throbbing as I held it against my chest. I could still feel the phantom pressure of his grip.
He held out his hand expectantly, a cold smirk playing on his lips. There was no need for words; I knew what he wanted. With a heavy sigh, I unzipped my bag; reluctantly, I handed it to Nathaniel, who barely glanced at it before passing it to Andrew. His eyes never left mine, that cruel, calculating gaze that always made me feel like a trapped animal.
"Meet us at our usual spot during lunch. Don't be late," he ordered, leaving no room for argument. With that, he turned on his heel and walked away, Andrew, Sophia, and Olivia trailing behind him like loyal lapdogs. Their laughter echoed down the hallway. Once they disappeared, I finally allowed myself to breathe. I looked down at my bruised hand, now marked with the fresh indents of Nathaniel's grip. I had no choice but to obey. In this world, power was everything and I had none.
No notes and no credlings; I knew this would happen; it was no surprise. Mr. Or'dara... I should stop listening to him and just let him keep his credlings. Sighing as I walked toward my first class of the day: History. I slipped into my seat at the back, far away from the laughter and chatter of my classmates. They filed in one by one, jostling each other playfully, their voices full of easy camaraderie.
I envied them. I envied their friendships, their carefree attitudes, and most of all, their powers. They don't know what it was like to be powerless, to be constantly reminded of your weakness. They added to my suffering without knowing it, but in the future, they will know how capable I really am. They'll realize that weak mundie is capable of being a hero.
The next few classes went fast, and the lessons were always the same, the teachers droning on and on about things I'd already memorized. When would there be a real challenge, something that could make me feel like I was learning and growing instead of just going through the class like a robot? I guess it won't change.
As the lunch bell rang, I felt a familiar knot tighten in my stomach. It was time to head to the attic, the place Nathaniel and his friends had claimed as their own private lair. My feet dragged as I climbed the stairs to the top of the building, where the old school attic was located. No one is allowed up there unless Nathaniel invited you there himself; not even the teachers go up there... I suppose they don't want to anger the son of an important figure in the heroism tech career.
When I opened the door, I was greeted by plush couches, a table overflowing with snacks and drinks, most likely purchased with Mr. Or'dara's credlings that Andrew stole when he took my notebook. Finally, there's a large TV mounted on the table with video games scattered around it. The room screamed wealth and privilege, starkly contrasting with my own life. This attic used to be a dusty storage space when I was a freshman; it was my place to eat alone and to think. However, once Nathaniel discovered that the attic was my safe haven, he immediately claimed it for himself and his friends. Ever since then, the attic has transformed into a luxurious hideout for the rich.
"The pig is here," Sofia sneered from her spot on one of the couches, curled up next to her boyfriend, Skylar Stoll.
He is well-known around the school; you could say he is a jock. His power is called Tectonic Ego, which could temporarily amplify his physical strength, endurance, and size based on his confidence level. The more he believed in himself, the stronger and larger he became, towering over everyone else. However, his power has a downside; if his ego took a hit and he started doubting himself, his strength would diminish just as quickly. It was a power that forced him to find a balance between confidence and humility.
I could tell when he looked at me that he felt pity for me. I could sense that he wanted my suffering to end, but he wouldn't do anything about it. Deep down, he was disgusted at the thought of even touching a mundie, and he wouldn't dare defy Nathaniel... no one would.
On the other side of the room, Olivia and Andrew lounged on the couch, disgustingly close.
Nathaniel sat by the coffee table, flipping through my notebook He looked up as I entered, a look of disdain crossing his features.
"You need a new notebook, Slyvian," he said, dropped it on the table. "This one's disgusting." He crossed his arms over his chest and motioned with his head for me to come closer.
Reluctantly, I obeyed, stepping forward until I was standing in front of him. Their eyes followed my every move, full of contempt. It was a look I'd grown used to.
"You're going to do me a favor," Nathaniel said calmly, his voice steady and composed as if he were merely discussing the weather. "Go to class 1A and grab Mr. S'dala's ID card for me."
My fingers and eyes twitched at the mention of Mr. S'dala's name. A wave of unease washed over me. What could he possibly want with Mr. S'dala's ID card? My mind is racing to make sense of it. Nathaniel always had a reason, always had a plan, and it was never good. My body froze, paralyzed by the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in my head. What is he planning this time?
I can see Nathaniel watching me intently, his gaze slowly narrowing in irritation as I remain unresponsive. He sighed, the sound heavy with impatience. Nathaniel always prided himself on being composed and in control, but I could tell that my lack of reaction was getting under his skin in a way nothing else ever did. I often try to make sense of why this affects him so much, but nothing comes to mind. I suppose it won't matter in the end.
"You should really get your ears checked," he said, his voice low and menacing. "Because it seems your ears aren't working today."
He turned his gaze to Andrew, who was lounging on the couch with a cruel grin. Nathaniel gave him a small nod. Andrew's grin widened, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he activated his power: Psychokinetic Dominance.
I felt it immediately.
A horrible, invisible force yanked my arms upward, too fast, too sharp. My joints cracked, and my tendons screamed. It wasn't me moving. My body wasn't mine anymore. My hands snapped toward my throat, fingers tightening, cutting off my air before I could even gasp.
My breath caught. My eyes widened as pressure built in my windpipe. My own fingers clawed into my skin like a stranger's, bruising, digging. Nails cut into flesh. My body burned with resistance, nerves lighting up in protest. Every bone creaked under the strain.
My knees buckled. But I didn't fall. I was made to fall.
My legs locked at the joints and jerked downward until I was kneeling on the floor, back ramrod straight, neck still being squeezed by my own trembling hands. My spine arched in protest, muscles seizing from the forced positioning. I felt my shoulders dislocate slightly from the harsh angle, and pain exploded up my arms
I tried to fight. I screamed silently inside. But no matter how much I struggled, it was useless. My body refused to listen. I was a puppet, my limbs trembling and my lungs begging for air.
It was like being buried alive in my own skin.
"Shhh," Nathaniel whispered, crouching to my level, his voice dripping with mock concern. "There's no need to be difficult, Slyvian. Just do as you're told, and you won't have to suffer." His eyes locked to mine, cold and calculating.
"Now..." he tilted his head slightly, the edge of a smile forming on his lips. "Will you go get that ID card for me? Or do I need Andrew to remind you how far he can bend that fragile little body of yours?"
My throat burned. My lungs ached. I could barely think through the storm pounding in my head, only the pressure, the heat behind my eyes, the static in my ears. But then, slowly, the invisible grip began to loosen. My fingers unclenched from my neck, my head slumped forward. The moment I could, I nodded, jerky and fast, desperate for air.
The pressure vanished. I collapsed forward onto my hands, choking and wheezing, my chest rising and falling in violent gasps. My body was shaking, my skin soaked with cold sweat. Behind me, Andrew let go, laughing softly to himself like it had all been some game.
Then Nathaniel reached out and lifted my chin between his fingers, his touch cool, light, and terrifying.
He leaned closer, his lips near my ear, and whispered, "Good girl."
His voice dropped to a gentler tone, sickeningly sweet. "See what happens when you listen?" he said, brushing his thumb against my cheek. "You get praise. You get softness. You get me being nice."
I didn't respond.
I couldn't.
His smile returned, slow and self-satisfied. "I only do this to you because I know how weak you are," he said quietly. "A blessing for me... a curse for you."
He let go of my chin, and I stayed still. My body trembled, but my face remained unreadable. I wouldn't give him more.
In my mind, I promised myself something:
One day, I'll make them regret everything.
