Echoes of Power
The teenager looked around him and saw the soft light pouring in his room through the curtains. Shit. He cursed as he quickly got up. He looked at his alarm clock and cursed again. 9:21 He was so late…
“Why didn’t I hear you ring?!” Alexandre grumbled angrily towards the red numbers as he quickly grabbed his clothes.
He took off his shirt and was about to take of his shorts when he turned around to face the mirror, as his eyes wandered from his ruffled hair to his feet he froze. It was almost unconscious and he didn’t understand what had made him stop in his momentum at first, it took a few moment to hit him. His eyes were glued to his torso, he was unable to look away. The three large gashes now covered by fresh and pinkish skin were going almost all the way from under his left nipple to the middle of his back. Suddenly bits and pieces came back to him.
Bright light, searing pain as the sharp claws ripped through his body, a wave of blazing heat and the feeling of nothingness that had followed it all before he had woken up again, as if his body and his mind had been floating in an infinite void, silent and dark. How could he have survived? How could such wounds have healed so quickly? He should be dead. He should be… dead. That realization overtook him so violently his legs lost all strength and he crumbled on the ground, unable to move. He could only look at the wound in awe and horror.
The voice in his head, his strange ability to slow objects’ fall, Bryan’s secret and… everything else. How could he have gone with all this, how could he have taken it in so… normally?! Nothing was right and he was only realizing it now, as if he suddenly woke up after a dream that had gone on for years. He was going mad. Or he was already mad, that was the only explanation. None of this was right. None of it is right… The sun was beaming through his window, shrouding him in its warm rays but despite that the teenager was cold, he couldn’t help but shivering.
He had died. He had died and gone to hell. None of this was part of his reality, none of this could be true. He lost the track of time, as it seemed to happen quite often lately, and when he finally emerged again he somehow found himself in the same position, still kneeling in front his mirror. Alexandre’s eyes focused again and darted back to his fresh scars. Strangely they somehow seemed to be less pinkish and more like the natural colour of his skin. Slowly he raised his arm and motioned towards his reflection.
As the tip of his fingers touched the mirror image of the wound he felt a powerful electric shock, as if he had been hit by lightning, and couldn’t help jumping back with a yelp. No. No, no, no, no… Alexandre stood up and without even putting a shirt on he ran down the stairs and rushed out of the house, not even bothering to close the door behind himself. No no no! What the hell is going on with me?!