Chapter 6: Adjusting

“Holy shit did you see Milo?”

“Dudes got gains.”

“What were they feeding him in France?”

The whole day went like that, intermittently spaced in were questions about France. Every single class was the same. Questions for a while, then it died down. Milo had a slight reputation before, but he always found a way to slip into the back of the class and go unnoticed. Isaiah on the other hand had spent his whole life bigger than everyone else. Everybody knew where he was in class and paid attention. Now he was approached by a new problem. He heard girls and guys whispering about him in the hallway. He never cared if he got bullied it was of no consequence. What could they do to him? This was new, girls were making comments, about wanting to get with a big strong man. The six months spent training had caused Isaiah to lose forty pounds. Entering calculus he expected to be berated like he was every morning, instead, Mr. Dean approached him with kindness and asked how France was. He knew it was a show for the class but still after the months of torment, he was just supposed to forget that and attend class. They had left early in their sophomore year about four months into school. Entering back as a junior Isaiah felt no different, no distance from his previous life. The months of training had successfully done at least one thing. His mental fortitude was the strongest it has ever been.

Milo found the number of girls who were staring at him infuriating and amazing. On one hand, he never had this much attention from the opposite sex. What pissed him off was, that it was only due to him getting buff. The shallowness they showed.

At least Zoë was nice before the shift.

When lunch hit he saw something. There sitting at their usual table was the old D&D group, they normally shared all their classes but for some reason, even in all honors, he hadn’t seen any of them. Approaching the table Milo swelled with happiness. The memories of him spending hours with these four in Isaiah's basement brought a joy he had missed in the compound.

“Hey guys, long time no see.”

“Holy shit! MILO!” A small boy with horrible acne jumped up from the table. “How has it been? How was France? Why didn’t you text me back?”

“Well, France was ehh. It’s been decent. And I emailed you back, I just didn’t text because of time zones.” Milo had been prepared for this exact situation. Palomides had given them access to their emails and phones before sending them to school. They had replied to all emails for the duration of training. It would be like Milo and Isaiah were never gone. “So Elijah, why haven’t I seen you in any of my classes?”

“Oh, that's easy.” An average ginger boy butted in, “We are in all AP classes. That French school may have got you ahead, but just ahead of the average kids.”

“So Trev, you're saying I did that whole exchange for nothing?”

A loud commanding voice joined the conversation, “That's exactly what he’s saying.” Isaiah said, sitting down. The day already weighing hard on him. His mental fortitude may have grown, but the voice inside told him to get mad, be angry, and take power. To kill. It was driving him crazy. “How have you crazy bastards been?”

Stolen story; please report.

“That’s exactly what I was gonna say.” A large pale boy retorted

“Well Ren, you and Isaiah are the same person, just different bodies,” Trevor added.

Isaiah stayed quiet, maybe once upon a time, they could say that but now. He was more different than anyone could ever be.

Plus Ren is straight.

Isaiah thought to himself. When the bell rang, Isaiah and then moved on with their day, as if they had never been gone. The rest of the day went by relatively easily. Until he got home. When he opened the door he was tackled by a woman half his size.

Pulling her into a desperately needed hug. “Hey mom, I missed you too.”

Isaiah stared at the cross necklace winding if it would have any effect on him. Even though he had missed her for months. He always wondered, how could she sell him? The voice inside tried to add more to the flame, but he couldn’t be mad at her since she was his mom.

“I know you might be mad at me. How could I do it? But when Mr. Palomi said it was for the church and the money. He promised your safety and stability I never could.”

A different situation met Milo. Walking into his house he was met by a small girl, no older than four. She hugged his leg and began crying.

“Hey, Nala. Where’s mom ?” The happiness of his day crashed. Nala was a spitting image of Milo, but with some key differences.

“She’s in the kitchen.” The bruise on her left eye was covered with makeup, but Milo could tell, many nights he had spent hiding them, he was always there to protect her. In the past six months where was he?

I am going to kill that drunk.

Milo barged into the kitchen and saw her sitting there, wine in hand and spaced out. The house was much nicer than it had ever been growing up. His mom and dad divorced when he was six. She was granted full custody. The court saw it as fair because his dad couldn’t afford a lawyer. They had split up due to her drinking, and as he grew up it only got worse. He got used to the abuse, he knew how to cover it up. He grew complacent in it. It was just fine, until one day she came home pregnant. Milo found out the summer before seventh grade. The pregnancy test was positive, his mom had left him home alone to go get some more wine and groceries. He knew she wouldn’t stop. So he broke all the wine bottles in the house. When she got back he broke those too. He was beaten worse than he ever had. But good did come of it, she stayed sober for the entire pregnancy. It all changed when Nala was born. She had no dad around, and their mom started to drink again. He had always escaped into sports, but now he had to protect his younger sister. The MMA was so he could stop her from hitting Nala. Now he stared at the woman who once tormented him.

“Mom. I’m taking Nala. You can’t stop me. They will make sure you are compensated. Don’t ever reach out to either of us. Get sober you bitch. I hope you never ruin anyone else’s life.”

“Huh, w-whatcha say? ”She stammered belligerently.

Milo walked into the living room and told Nala,

“Go upstairs, grab some toys. You are coming with me.” Milo looked at the calendar his mom had on the stairs. She was an astrology girl back in high school so she filled her house with all types of calendars. The next day was marked as a full moon.

“Where are we going?” Nala asked.

“Somewhere safe.” He responded.