Power of Pain (Original Group Story)
5 teenagers. Trapped. All stuck in lives that they dislike. They all have one thing in common, they aren't normal. They have powers, unlike considerably normal people. Fate brings them together with one, mutual interest. Power. Domination. A way for their voices to be heard. A way to make their own decisions. An escape from their current life. A way out. Ultimate domination.
today hadn't gone well for me, which was sadly normal in my life. it began with a loud buzzing sound; the alarm going off. I slamed my hand on the clock, and sat up in bed. the world slamed into staggering focus around me, and I stumbled to my feet, ready and out the door in ten minutes flat. I was not at all keen to stay in the house of the man who had taken me in for the next three years.. he was about 50 or so, and reeked of liquor most of the time. but that didn't bother me too much. what bothered me was the fact that he reeked of pain. he was a nice fellow, but that was hidden to my eyes along with the pain of a dead soulmate, cracked and faded behind the protective veil of smoke that i had chosen to shroud myself in.
my long legs carried me across the southside of Fidemville, to the local high school. i arrived, and began to scarf down a quick breakfast. I surveyed the room around me like an assassin, noticing the pretty boy across the room with flowing blonde hair that was always smiling. I could tell in an instant that it was fake. he was disgusted at everything about the people around him. his mind contorted in mental agony when someone touched him. he and his group got up at the moment I did, and we both made our way to the door that led outside, making my heart beat faster in excitement. I got the cruel [and yet very tantalizing] urge to whisper in his ear in passing, and decided to indulge it.
"you'll never get what you deserve..." I said in my harsh, whispered voice, so quiet only he could hear. with every syllable I spoke, I twisted his heart painfully, pressing the weight of pain on his soul. he flinched as if physically struck, and pretended not to have heard. but he did. I could tell by the way he glared daggers at me the rest of the day. I smirked, glad to be making him pay for the evil deeds that he had stacked up over the last few months.
I walked through the hallways in a fog, staring down at my feet and trying not to notice the quiet urge to inflict pain on the people around me. they could sense something wrong with me, unconsciously at least, because the crowd parted around me, strangers pressing themselves to the walls to get out of my way, repulsed on some unknown level so that they couldn't even bear to look at me. nobody wanted to be seen too close to the "druggie". once word had gotten out about my cannabis tattoo, about three inches across and outlined in black ink on my right forearm, everyone began to avoid me. I even got my own table at luch, which i didn't mind too much. it made things easier for me... after all, if you get close to the people around you, you feel their pain. I learned that the hard way.
I had made it to lunch, when it happened. It was the middle of fifth period, second lunch, and I was sitting in the corner of the bathroom, smoking from my metal pipe. a boy stumbled in a boy with the most beautiful grey eyes, bleeding slowly but steadily from a self inflicted wound. he saw me and stopped, not sure what to do. I looked up at him, and fell into those steel-grey eyes, and my own shocking green eyes filled with tears. it was the tears that did it, I think. my heart wrenched in a painful way, as it took on the pain of the stranger before me. the kid was around 14 or so, clutching his left wrist and frowning down at me. he looked back and forth between his bleeding wrist, and my face, incredulously watching the tears well up and fall unchecked down my face.
"w-what did you do...? how-w d-did you do that?" he whispered before collapsing on the tiled bathroom floor below us. I stared at him a long time, almost drowning in the pain I felt. it was the pain of lost love, along with years of neglect that poured into my soul. I clutched my wrist, feeling the wound that wasn't there throb in pain and the dizzy pain of loosing too much blood as well as the aching head that came from a fall like that. I got up, and laid the boy so he would wake up leaning up against the wall.I carefully bandaged his wrist, using butterfly closers to keep the wound from bleeding out. I couldn't have the kid dying now could I? that would cause the police to look closer, and a guy like me was always the target. I knew that since the beginning of my days in foster care. then, i left him there. after that I had made my way off campus, manipulating the woman that watched the side of campus I exited by to be held up in her office an extra five minutes with an unexplainable migraine. the rest of the day passed in a fog of music, and I steeled my heart of the pain I had accidentally taken on from the grey-eyed boy I had met earlier.
suddenly it seemed rather funny to me, and I busted out into uncontrollable laughter.
"just a day in the life of a pain-weaver" the voice of my wild imagination whispered to me.
"I didn't ask for this 'gift' you know..." I said to the voice, pretending not to see that it wasn't real, "Its so exhausting to feel so much pain. its exhausting to feel so much cruelty in my heart..." I rubbed my eyes, and curled up in a ball on the floor. the masterpiece of some unnamed music god blared over my speakers, the heavy base lulling me to sleep.