Six months passed since then. During this whole time, I didn’t spend a single moment in the company of Darrell, nor did he seem to look for mine. Slowly, but constantly, my situation at school improved: with that I mean that John was talking to me again. I took the initiative by myself, and I did it the very next day after I declared to my parents I didn’t want to see Darrell any more: I just came to him during break time and greeted him. At first, he first only did the same, without daring to look at me in the eyes, but that didn’t discourage me: three seconds later, I told him sorry for my behaviour and that I didn’t want to lose his friendship. With that, he smiled, then said he wanted to show me a new book he had started reading. The rest of the school still wouldn’t trust me much-nobody else would talk to me yet-but at least in the school bus, instead of being left alone, I had John next to me, which was perfectly fine: I never wanted popularity, I just didn’t want to be perceived as some kind of monster.

During those months, I spent a lot of time with my parents. Almost every day, after I finished my homework, my dad would take me to playing outside. We played a lot of football together: I still remember how happy I was when I scored my first penalty against him. If it rained, he would bring some board game. My mum, who was an English teacher in a high school, would read with me many books, which I discovered to like more than my comics, like Treasure Island or The Hobbit. Those stories had a magic atmosphere that I had always underestimated; that only reinforced my friendship with John, because now we were able to exchange books.

Most of all, my parents would bring me on several trips somewhere. On weekends, we travelled to places like South Wales, Yorkshire and Oxfordshire, spending time by walking in the nature or visiting the local towns. I was particularly enthusiast about Oxford because my mother had told me it was where the author of The Hobbit had lived. Once, during a bank holiday, they even brought me abroad for the first (and only) time in my life: we went to France, a place called Mont-Saint-Michel. I kept for many years a photo with me and them posing in front of the monastery, hugging all each other, just like a perfect, happy family. It was fantastic to do these trips, which were much better than going into in the middle of nowhere and standing for hours in the same place. I think their idea was to replicate those afternoons I had spent with Darrell outside, but in a much more pleasant formula. Even if they couldn’t know the full truth, I liked to think that.

I was finally forgetting all Darrell had taught me: I didn’t need him any more in my life. I must have seen him three or four times in total during those six months, and whenever our paths met I would always avoid his sight. A pair of times I think he whispered to me “Hayden...” but I ignored him with all my strength.

I was finally happy.

It was a Friday night, and it was my parents’ wedding anniversary. We went celebrating in an Italian restaurant around our neighbourhood, which apparently was one of the best in the whole county, or so they had said. In any case, I was just happy to go eat outside, because it meant I’d eat some very fancy stuff. The restaurant had a nice, cosy atmosphere and the waiter who served us had big black moustaches, just like they say Italians do have–I cannot truly say if it’s true, since I don’t think I ever met any Italians, but it was fun to watch. I still remember myself indicating it loudly and my mother scolding me, despite the waiter being clearly amused.

It had been just another nice evening with my family: we came out of the local with full stomachs and good humour. We paid, left the local, went to our car and finally we were back at our neighbourhood, in front of the building where our flat was.

It was there where it happened.

Just before my father could reach the small door that was the entrance to our building, appeared a man all dressed in black, with a black balaclava and a gun in his hand.

Out of instinct, my father stood in front of me and my mother, making resistance. He shouted us to run and call the police, but just before we could do anything, behind us other two men came out, dressed exactly like the first and holding two guns, identical to the one the first man owned. We were trapped.

I began crying.

“Shut up kid! We don’t hurt children. We’re gentlemen.”

My lament only grew up. My parents, instead, were completely frozen, unable to do anything.

The first thief, suddenly, shouted:

“Do it!”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

at that moment, I heard my mum whispering something.

“We love you, Hayden...”

And then the two men behind us shot two bullets.

I shouted the whole hell out of me while the two small metallic cylinders trespassed my parents’ heads, making them explode with blood. Their torsos fell on the concrete and left a wide sign of red, illuminated by the cold street lights. The three men rapidly assaulted my mother’s bag and my father’s wallets, and they finally disappeared in the night, leaving me in front of the door.

I was alone, in the middle of a pool of blood, in an effort of breaking my own vocal chords, incapable of seeing well because of how liquid my eyes had become.

All the windows in the building emitted white light from their rooms. Everyone was looking at the scene.

“Is that the son of the Darce’s?”

“What happened?”

“Oh my god! Oh my god!”

However, I looked for one window in particular. There he was: the face of the man who I used to call uncle, who I had deliberately ignored for six months.

“DARRELL! DARRELL!” I screamed.

“H...Hayden? I-I’m coming!”

After one minute, Darrell came out of the entrance, with the face of someone who has seen the devil himself.

“Hayden! What...what happened?”

It was then that his eyes saw my parents’ bodies, their lifeless expressions, the lake of blood.

I hugged his legs; the strongest hug I ever gave to someone. He brought me to his chest and gently petted my head, letting me cry on his shoulders while at the same time doing the same, just more quietly.

“Hayden...oh Hayden...”

He brought me inside the building, where my screams rumbled through the wall. I didn’t care about how many I was waking up.

The lessons Darrell had given me returned violently in my head. An ocean of hatred was flowing in my mind like lava from a volcano: it was more powerful and more comforting, more terrifying and more pleasant than whatever my ex-bullies could make me feel. I didn’t want those assassins just to die: I wanted them to suffer slowly. I wanted them to live a death worse than the one they had caused.

The fireballs showed up in my hands, after a six months hiatus. I was ready to throw them, screaming all my odium-

“NO!” Darrell shouted, lowering my hands. I reconnected with the world: we were in the elevator. Had I thrown them, I’d have killed both of us. “Remember what I told you? Controlling your emotions is important.”

He held both my hands strongly as we reached his flat.

“Here. You can stay my home, but please Hayden, sleep, okay?”

“Yes...” I managed to say, with great effort; I wasn’t in the condition of pronouncing longer words.

“I’ll put you in my bed and we’ll sleep together.”

“Thank...you...”

He let me lie down on his bed and stayed there for a long time. Suddenly, my love for him was fully restored; a part of my mind, the one that could still think, tried to remember what bad things he had done to me, but that wasn’t what I needed to remember at that moment. Slowly, I got calm enough to start falling into slumber, although the pain remained equally intense.

After a while, someone knocked on the door.

“Sorry Hayden,” he said, and left the bed to the entrance. There were some voices I couldn’t recognize, to whom Darrell exclaimed: “Please, would you be so gentle to come back tomorrow morning for your questions? He’s just lived a very traumatic experience, and absolutely needs some sleep. You can ask me what I witnessed, for now.”

I covered my ears with the pillow. I didn’t want to listen and live all again. The best thing, for now, was to pretend the world didn’t exist any more, but it was utterly useless: I just wanted Darrell to come back again to me. I just waited with my face wrapped in the pillow, until he finally got back to me.

“Hayden,” he said, “I’m sorry, but tomorrow you’ll have to tell the police what happened. I know it’ll be awful, but if you do it they may get those assassins and deliver them to justice. It’ll be alright, I promise.”

The police...I felt a small shiver of fear. “I’m scared...”

“Don’t worry, Darrell, they’re here to help us.”

I nodded weakly. Suddenly, I realized I had the force to ask him something. I had thought about it...well, not sure when, but it was the only prospect I had for my future.

“Darrell...can I...can I go live with you?”

I studied his reaction. I expected him to hesitate, that he’d tell me that I had my relatives who’d accept me, that he wasn’t fit to take me after what happened between us. But those relatives I had were so far away and I barely knew them, that I’d never be happy if I went live with them, at least that was what I thought.

With my surprise, Darrell’s face got a radiant smile, just like the one he used to show when we played together.

“Yes, Hayden. I’ll make sure you’ll be able to stay with me.”

I cried again, this time out of commotion, and gave him another hug. He reciprocated it with affection.

“Just make me a promise.”

“What?”

“That we’ll resume our training.”

I stopped the hug. I remembered how he had second plans about me. I remembered what he had done to me.

“...why?”

“Hayden, tomorrow I’ll tell you everything. You were right for being angry with me, but I’m not joking this time, I really mean that. You’re going to discover all you need to know about yourself, me and everything that I haven’t told you. I will not abandon you.”

“I don’t want to be a monster...”

“You won’t turn into a monster. I should have never suggested you to try those things at school. Please forgive me, Hayden. Forgive me for that, and also for...I would avoid it if I could...but I can’t. You’re too important.”

“I’m...important?”

“Yes. It’s all related to your powers – our powers. You’re a very precious gem.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tomorrow, Hayden. Now it’s time to sleep.”

I didn’t have the force to insist on asking for explanations. Besides, he had just said he’d tell me everything, and if I didn’t trust the only adult I had who loved me, I’d be lost. I had no choice.

“I promise,” I said as my eyes closed into sweet slumber.