I-I... I didn't mean to kill him. I really didn't, so why..... why is he dead?

I Maximus Schmidt, fell to the floor in my bedroom after a fast and fearful sprint, and clutched my sides as I felt an unbearable urge to vomit swell up inside of me. I thought back to the events that had just transpired earlier that evening.

I came home the same time as always after a hard day working as a veritable slave for some shitty company, to find my mother in her room making the sounds all to familiar to me, the sounds of pleasuring one of her clients. I slumped my shoulders slightly at the sound, and slowly made my past the room, careful not to make any sound whatsoever, as to not disturb her work. I had figured out very early on that some of her clientele can be rather aggressive and down right insane when disturbed. Once I was past the danger zone of interrupting her work, I quickly walked into my bedroom and closed the door slowly and quietly, with that done I turned and settled down into my rickety old chair to do some work, in the vain hope that maybe I will be able to escape and live a better life away from this hell hole. About half an hour later, I heard a commotion, so I turned down my volume and took off my shitty stolen headphones to listen in on what was going on through the muffled walls. it took me all of 10 seconds to figure out, that this client was one of the ones who liked to run after a job without paying, and that my mother was arguing with him for compensation, when all of a sudden the argument was cut short by an even heavier muffled high pitched scream. I then realised something was very wrong, and bolted out of my room to see my mother on the ground with a man mounted on top of her, covered in blood, her blood. I froze on the spot and shook, my eyes eventually traveled up to the man, who was now getting up from holding my mother down and stabbing her to look directly at me, and frowned, he took a heavy sigh before speaking in his rough baritone voice

"Sorry kid, but I can't let you live now."

He slowly got up and dusted off his now disgusting and thoroughly ruined brown shirt and black trousers, that looked way too fancy and expensive for this part of town, to take large, heavy steps toward me. He gripped his knife harder, and prepared to lunge at me. I felt a warm fluid slide down my leg, and realised that I just pissed myself, which is fair considering I am about to die. He took the last step and thrust his knife forward, my heart stopped and everything slowed to a standstill, the thoughts still continuing in my mind "guess this is what is meant by everything slows down in you last moments in life. perhaps in a vain hope to find a way to survive the ordeal". This continued on for what felt like a few minutes, when I realised something was wrong, time never sped back up. I tried moving, and to my surprise found that I could, and very easily at that. I looked to the man still in his lunge and raised knife, when rage like no other I had felt before exploded out of me, and following that rage, I clocked the guy in the head as hard as I could. As I did so, I felt a tug on my consciousness as time sped back up and I fell to the ground. The last thing I saw before everything turned dark was the man's head exploding into a crimson mist, and splattering all over the wall behind him as well as a weird tattoo of a bird with four wings on his neck. When I awoke, a killer headache slammed into me with a vengeance. My mouth was dry and I felt dehydrated, I tried moving but quickly found that any physical exertion just made me dizzy, the cause of this likely due to my dehydrated and famished state. Even though it hurt to move, I had to, so with great difficulty I crawled over to the sink and started chugging tap water. After I felt I could no longer drink anymore, I forced my stumbling self over to the cupboard and pried it open to eat all that I could find in my half lucid state, which was predominately grains and carbs. Once there was nothing in the cupboard to eat, I collapsed back onto the floor passing out again. The second time I awoke was much more pleasant, I no longer had that ear splitting headache and was no longer feeling like I hadn't eaten in a month. So I stumbled out into the living room and came across a terrifying scene, my mother was on the ground, dead from multiple stab wounds, and some man that had no head on his shoulders that looked like he was hit by a car sprawled across the room. My memories of the events came back to me in a flash, and I stumbled back, hitting the counter behind me leading to the kitchen. panic over took my thoughts, and I sprinted with everything I had back to my room, where I fell to the floor and started hyperventilating. I started to mutter words, that, even to myself were to hard to interpret.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"I-I didn't mean to. He just ran at me. Why did this? How did this? wha? huh? Is this?" 

I sat there for what felt like an hour, but when I looked outside the sun of the next dawn was rising. I had to leave before anyone came across what had happened, so I grabbed my back and stuffed as much essentials into it as I could, before sliding open my window and leaping onto the fire escape down the side. Stumbling down the stairs in a panic fueled run, I made it out into the alley between buildings and started running away, in a haphazard fashion not caring where I end up, only that I was away from that apartment. I made it a good, 20 kilometres in a span of 1 and a half hours, making remarkable time of 15km/h, before collapsing from fatigue, I guess that no sleep, manifesting a power, very little amounts of nutrience, as well as a combination of stress and adrenaline don't make for a very productive ability to stay conscious. As the last of my fight left me, I stumbled into another alleyway and collapsed beside a industrial sized garbage bin.

with my last thoughts before finally succumbing to the fatigue being "Just, what is my power that I manifested?".