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JWalker2406

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The silence was nice to hear for once. My thoughts have stopped their parade. All I am focusing on is saving Brett. If that means letting my secret out, then so be it. The silence didn’t last long as the hard wood starts splitting. If they want me so badly they will have to work for it. My eyes fixed on the crying wood. Breaking slowly, pieces taking flight. Voices ring out, "Hit harder men!" I could tell they are getting even more anxious. Biting my lip I begin to wonder how they even knew I went here. Before I could pull more thoughts together my throat starts feeling numb, a slight burning sensation.

"Man..." I say slowly as my fingertips gently massage my throat. I’ve never experienced something like this. My heart starts beating faster. What’s going on? I ask myself. Standing I realize my body is weak Too weak to hold me up. My back hits the edge of the desk as I buckle to my knees, my neck intensifying. Gazing up at the door I notice the men kicking down what is left of it. My sight beginning to haze over every couple of seconds. I hear the men laughing. Some asking what is so special about me. They try making me stand, but my knees just buckle back under me.

"What the hell is wrong with him? And what’s up with his neck?" I hear one of the men ask. My neck? What’s wrong with it? My eyebrows scrunch together as I start wondering what is wrong with my neck. The men cup me under the armpits and begin dragging me over the defeated rubble of what was once a glorious door. I could feel a faint sting as the splintered wood scraps along my skin tearing my light weight dress shirt. Great... Another shirt ruined. Mom is going to kill me. I don’t know why I am thinking about my stupid shirt instead of what might happen to me when I go into the cafeteria. I guess I need a little humor to try and get my mind off of it. Hallway lights skim by above me, the smooth surface of the marble floors makes it easy to transport me. My neck aches as it becomes harder for me to swallow. Where are they planning on taking me if they get out of here? What will happen to me if my secret gets out? These thoughts came and went. It was hard to really focus anymore. My head throbs from too much thinking. I want this to be over with. The closer we get to the cafeteria the worse my neck got. Is it because of Brett? I wasn’t sure, but I don’t rule it out. The cafeteria doors burst open, my ears hear the gasps of students and teachers as they watch me being drug towards the middle. The men drop me. Taking their places around the room. A loud clap comes from behind me. I lift my heavy eye lids and peer at the man I knew is in charge.

"What did ya’ll do to him?" Dante asks. Annoyance in his tone. He bends down examing my neck. Raising an eyebrow he takes something out of his pocket. Snapping it open he holds it to my nose. Telling me to inhale deeply. Doing as he says I take in a deep breath. The aroma from that tube seems to slap me in the face. My nose hairs feeling as if the were burnt off. My eyes wide open now I scan the room, seeing blood shot worried eyes staring back at me. Spotting Brett laying in a pool of his own blood I jolt up. Before I can rush over I feel my arm being held with a firm grip. The more I fought, the tighter it got. My bicep feeling like mush in his hand. The throbbing of my neck was almost too much for me. Tears well up in my eyes as I am forced to watch Brett cringe at the pain he is in. I peer over at Taylor who is also being held against his will, the pink haired lady fiddling with his ear. He didn’t really seem to notice her, his eyes were staring blankly towards Brett. My heart is racing but at the same time feels like it is dying. I blink a few times letting the tears know it is okay to fall now. Taking my hint they cascade down my flushed cheeks. I look back at the man holding me, a smirk on his face. He is enjoying this.

"Let me go!" I finally manage to yelp out. My arm tugging away from him. He just scoffs and proceeds to let out a soft cackle. His eyes narrow as he looks at my back. I wasn’t sure what he was looking at. Then I remembered that I had been cut by the wood. His hand lifts my tattered shirt, revealing no wounds. I hear whispers start to fill the silent room, his hot hand pressing against my back. I bite my lip nervously, surely my secret is out now. How can there be a torn shirt with blood, but no signs of where the blood came from. I look back at the man. A huge smile that show off his row of four gold teeth along with yellow stained teeth. Watching the reactions of some of the people, I try to read whether they think I’m a freak. Most of them were still in shock so they probably don’t believe anything they see right now. Which is a good thing for me. For now.

"So it is you..." He says in a barely audible tone. My face loses its expression of relief as I face him, his hand finally letting go of my bruised arm. His eyes burning into my soul. He almost looks a little bit shocked. Quickly he grabs my hand and lifts it into the air harshly. I grimace in pain as his fingernails dig into my skin. "We’ve got the package boys!" He yells out. Scattered clapping and hollers come from all sides of the room. Puzzled faces take over the scarred faces of students and faculty. He turns his attention to me, his eyes wide. My eyes nervous. He takes out a pocket knife, flinging it open he slices my palm. Gasps and a few screams take place but the loudest one is coming from me. I start breathing fast as the pain throbs and stings. Blood brimming over my cupped hand, streams half way down my arm until it begins splattering to the floor. Dante grabs my hand again and lifts it back into the air. My blood trickling over his fingers. No one understood why he was doing this. But soon they would, once it began healing back up.

I never asked for this. I never wanted to become some side show freak. I just want to be a normal person. A person that can get hurt. Can actually say "I’ve got scars too!" That can walk outside without having the feeling that someone is watching me. Why me? Why this curse? Why can’t I have something like being able to fly. Instead I am seen as a modern day Jesus. A man that can heal the sick. I don’t want to heal the sick. I don’t want to be responsible for choosing who lives or dies. Because someone will die, every time... Every time I heal. When will I be able to live life? I snap out of my thoughts as my neck abruptly stops aching. My heart no longer fluttering. I look towards Brett, his eyes lifeless. Lips dark blue, his skin already starting to pale. I hear someone say "Oh my God!" Other voices start whispering, some have their hands towards the sky. Blinking I let a few more tears fall. Dante swings my hand around in all directions, letting everyone see that the wound is closing. It is a weird feeling. Feeling my broken skin stretching, my blood bubbling a little as it seems to help move my torn tissue back into place. To feel the skin lacing itself back, entwining with the skin that was never broken. And all that remains is a smooth flat surface and drying blood.