[FOR THE RECORD, LOGAN REED AND ANY IN HIS AGE GROUP ARE ALL EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD, OR OLDER]
Bang!
Pangs of cold stung Logan like crystal shards, clinging to his back and depriving him of his senses. For a moment, he couldn’t even recognize the individuals standing before him—three figures—in his state of delirium.
"Well, how about that, fatso?" the boy spat, both physically and metaphorically. A blotch of clear, viscous liquid shot out to Logan’s cheek, mixing with the blood and dirt running from his many cuts and bruises. "You do have feelings."
While the boy had been holding onto Logan’s collar, the two behind him were sneering, laughing at Logan’s bloodied state.
His vision grew blurry, tears beginning to cluster at the corners of his eyes. He’d grown used to this treatment, but never before had it been so severe.
"So, anything to say?" the boy asked, rattling Logan by slamming him again into the hard metal. He was pressed up against his locker, now discolored in violet from flying flays of flesh.
"Wh-what... what do you want from me..." Logan groaned, raising his hand in defiance to the pressure on his neck. The boy didn’t care for the gesture, striking his free hand into Logan’s wrist to restrain it against the locker.
"Look at the fatty, thinking he can fight back! Did you forget, you don’t have any powers!" one of the other boys laughed, closing the distance between himself and Logan to hover over him. Impacting his hand into the locker, he leaned in, peering inches away from Logan’s face. "Well? Don’t you have any words for Zack?"
That was right. In a world where everyone was born with some ability to utilize mana, he’d completely drawn a blank. Even the teachers gave up on him, eventually earning him an ’F’ rank designation in the school’s ranking system.
Buford Academy. The most acclaimed school of Gifts in the world, based in California. That was the very school he attended now. However, due to its academics revolving around the magical arts, if you lacked a great Gift, you would also find yourself falling behind of your classmates, even if you had any number of talents beyond just magic.
Turning to his own cuts and bruises, Logan’s face widened with realization. His conversation with Sabrina after she’d found him on the courtyard grounds, beaten and bruised. She was the girlfriend of the boy in front of him, the kid who’d been bullying him since middle school: Zack Hunter.
And there stood his cronies, Tyler and Chase, chuckling to themselves like always.
"Who do you think you are, talking to my girlfriend, Logan? Come on, do you really think she’d pop your cherry!" Zack chimed in, burrowing his knuckles directly up Logan’s throat.
The pain was mind-grating, his breath stifling at the forced closure of his esophagus. Even though the fire traveling through his lungs had wrought irrational agony, its effect was dowsed by the gaze of the three boys standing before him.
Hate. That was the only thing that filled their minds. Pure hatred.
After a few moments, Zack unclenched his hand from Logan’s neck, allowing his body to fall to the ground in relief. "KOOOFFFF, KOFFFFF... I... I’m sorry—"
Wham!
Before Logan had the chance to speak, he felt the hard sole of Zack’s shoe pummel his left cheek, sending him flying several feet. The pain was so intense that it felt as if his chin was singed by flame, clicking uncomfortably at even the subtlest movement.
"Absolute filth. I don’t care about your apology. You can sit there and grovel in the dirt for all I care, but don’t think about talking to her again, or else you’ll find this beating to be a lot better than what I’d do to you." Twisting his body, Zack walked off in the opposite direction. He didn’t look back, not even once.
Logan’s limbs convulsed uncontrollably, tears streaming from his eyes. He’d tucked his bottom lip in with the hope of holding back the quiver in his voice, but to no avail. Instead, all he could do was stammer to himself as he rolled around in a fetal position.
Beatings were commonplace—so much so that he’d lost count just how many he took in the last week. But this one had left a deep pit in his stomach that wouldn’t go away, no matter how much he sobbed to himself.
...
With his head tucked down, Logan looked to his left where a long window had been reflecting his image.
His gut jutted out from his jeans with so much overhand that it covered his thigh while his arms were laced with so much fat that they hung off from his muscles like an old lunch lady’s. His only saving grace was his dirty blond hair, although it didn’t get rid of the terrible triple chin concealing his jaw.
He sighed, closing his eyes from the street ahead. He was walking home before school ended, hoping that he could find solace in the comfort of his bed.
’At this point, I wouldn’t mind getting hit by a car,’ he thought, not bothering to open his eyes again. The world had been a blanching streak of grey, and his life was even more lost for meaning. ’Plus, it wouldn’t be the worst way to go. At least, then, I wouldn’t burden anyone.’
Quickly, there was the frantic screech of something’s quick movement.
Thud!
Something slammed into him fast and hard, sending him sprawling, causing his ears to ring momentarily from the daze. The force was instant, but it took time for him to process its presence.
Laying flat on his back, he jolted his eyes open, searching for any injuries outside of the ones he received from his beating, but nothing. No pain.
Instead, just a person.
"You’re strong..." he muttered, staring up at the tall woman. She was a colossal figure, completely unbothered by having essentially ran him over, although, it did seem that a few of the books she held in her arms fell to the floor.
"I know," she affirmed, bending down to reach for a textbook. Her coat loosened right at the neck area, dipping in height.
Logan shook his head, taking time to prop himself up. Combined with the weakness of his body from all the bruising, his weight severely pulled him down. Moving his body around wasn’t easy, but if it was in front of a girl, he would even do a somersault!
After getting to his knees, he was able to take one more glance at the woman. She was adorned in a white lab coat, haughtily covering over—
’Holy shit, she’s got some huge tits!’
He had to audibly yelp at her knockers—much to her confusion—but he understood that there was a larger task at hand.
"So, are you some type of scientist?" he asked, reaching over to grab a book or two—at least, that was his intention. Instead, his hand stopped just short of the floor as his stomach blocked his way. "Hoohhh, give me a moment... let me just..."
"It’s fine," she stated blankly, grabbing the book below him. "I wouldn’t expect you to be able to grab them."
He went blue from the embarrassment. It was over, any chances he had with her were gone.
As quickly as she’d ran into him, she trailed down along the sidewalk. Logan couldn’t help but take one last look at her.
Her dark brown hair flew wonderfully through the air as she continued her pace, although he couldn’t help but feel that he’d missed out on a once-in-a-lifetime gal.
Still, there was no point in lingering. Just move on to the next.
"Hey, just one thing," her voice cut in.
"Yes!" Logan promptly responded, going stiff as a board once he’d heard her voice.
"If you keep leaking like that, you’ll attract bad attention. I urge you to be more discrete, otherwise you’ll rub off wrong with the wrong people."
Logan looked to his pants, brushing his hands against his zipper for any stains. "What are you talking about...?"
"Stop playing dumb, we both know that you’re a spiritual being. Although, I suppose it’s none of my business, I don’t really care what happens to you." She turned to the opposite side of the street once more, traversing the corner and moving out of sight.
’Spiritual being? What did she mean?’
The dialogue was a confusing one. Perhaps she was one of those people that liked to play along with the disabled, although if she mistook him for a geek...
He looked to his right, staring into his own reflection. His eyes... they weren’t his own. Narrowed into slits with purple gleaming through his pupils, he’d been transformed.
"What...?"