Companion Song: Feel the Tide
Their words stung. His cheeks were numb. It would have been better if they had just slapped him and meant it, even beaten him to the ground and didn’t apologize for it. These words, the things they had said to him, they were designed to worm their way into his mind and fester. He knew these words would never leave him. They were etched into his very bones, scratching his nerves and torturing him from within. The scars would exist inside of him for eternity.
Owen told them they were really funny. They had joked like this before, said things but never really meant them. You idiot, you’re an asshole, remind me to never talk to you again, things that meant they were friends and comfortable with each other. They were like brothers, fights happened, disagreements were to be expected, but this was too far. He wanted so desperately to believe they were joking.
None of them laughed. There were no laughs, no smiles, not even ghosts of smiles, all the humor gone from their faces. Only anger showed in their eyes and frowns, their shoulders hunched. If Owen believed them capable of it, he would think they were about to cry, as though this was hurting them more than him. When this was over, they would still have each other, and he would have no one. He would be alone. The joke was no longer funny.
He tried to beg, to shout, to be apathetic and uncaring, but he couldn’t. His insides were twisting and turning like he had eaten something bad. When it seemed they had no more to say, they left. He didn’t move for a long time. He wanted to feel something specific, not five thousand things at once, not this tumultuous blur that was making him sick and dizzy. Miles from home, the sky growing dark with the setting sun, Owen wanted to die.
Nothing good had come from this thing his parents called a “gift”. In his head, he called it a curse, something given to him without his permission, bestowed upon him like a bad present from an aunt or uncle that he had to smile about and pretend to be grateful for, only there was no gift receipt, no way out of it because his family watched him expectantly, wanting him to be gracious. How could he be? With his siblings hardly sparing looks for him, his mother’s smiles not reaching her eyes when she talked with him, and now his friends abandoning him, he failed to see the positive points to this.
When the initial shock had subsided, Owen started to run. It was the one constant he had. Running came naturally to him. He’d grown up racing his friends and siblings through the fields, playing with the dogs, and had joined both the cross country and track teams when he was old enough. This time, it wasn’t for fun. This was an escape.
Going slowly at first, he started thinking about the things his friends had said.
You’re joking. You must be joking, that only happens in the movies.
You’re real funny, Owen.
You were always one to tell tall tales, you’re like the boy who cried wolf.Regret filled him as he remembered showing them what he had meant. The light in the area had clung to him, had danced across his hands and arms and his face. The feeling was liberating. For years, he had kept it a secret, but now he didn’t have to. He could show them his abilities, show them what he was capable of. Nothing told him it would be a mistake until his friends looked more scared and angry than excited.
Faster. Faster, damn it, you deserve a punishment. Stupid, stupid, STUPID. How could he have been so blind?
You’re a freak, dude.
We can’t be your friends anymore. Nobody wants to hang out with someone who isn’t normal.
You’ve been lying to us? How could you do that?
Friends don’t hide things.
They’re sending you to the loony bin, that’s what they’re doing, what else are they supposed to do with a mutant?Harder and harder, his feet hit the asphalt as he sprinted down the road. Cool evening air rushed his face, trying to soothe and cool him, but he couldn’t feel it, not with the red hot anger and hurt pulsing through his entire being. His arms were pumping faster than he’d pushed them before. Though his legs ached and fought his movements, his lungs burned with the effort, he pushed himself further, trying to forget what had happened. Owen wouldn’t feel the pain. He refused it.
Yet as his home came into view, as his legs started to give in surrender, as he stumbled and barely managed to stop himself from crashing on his knees, his vision began to blur with tears. Boys didn’t cry. They weren’t supposed to. He hadn’t cried since he was little. He hadn’t felt a pain like this since he was little, and even then, it was nothing compared to this dull ache inside of his chest. No physical pain could ever be close to what this was.
For a long time after the sun had set, Owen sat in that field. At first, he had cried, letting his emotions flow through him. Once all the tears had slid down his cheeks, he fell onto his back in the overgrown grass, staring up at the clear night sky, studying the stars. Looking into that vast expanse, he felt sure that his problems were nothing, they were insignificant to the grand scheme of the universe. This suffering, this agony, it made the universe turn its back on him. He meant nothing to it.
Nothing.
Owen sat in darkness for the first time in his room that night. He wasn’t used to darkness. Even so, he was sure that it didn’t normally feel like this. It was suffocating, pressing down on his shoulders and covering his face, filling his lungs and drowning him. He gripped his knees tightly, closing his eyes against the shadows in the room, ignoring the monsters he imagined, the echoes of his friend’s remarks ringing in his ears. None of it was real.
The light came from an unexpected place. Leaving the only town he had ever called home was devastating when he first learned he had to do it, but with nothing tying him here, he longed to go. There was nothing left here for him. A school was waiting for him, a new life with new people who knew nothing about him. He could start all over. He could live honestly, create a new person, become someone else entirely. Hope lit up his face for the first time that day as he packed his things.
Gates were the only thing separating him from his old life. As he stood in front of them, he almost turned and ran.
This wasn’t right.
Nothing good could come from this.
Watching his parents’ car drive away, Owen had no other choice. A rush of air left his mouth. Did he want this? Would this even help him?
It wasn’t a gift. It was a curse.
Nothing stopped him as he pushed through the gates of the school.
Owen refused to let the darkness overtake him. He was made of light. His very existence was the world’s answer to the darkness, the counteract, and he would do everything he could to remove every last trace of it.
Never again would he be alone.
