My alarm clock startles me awake having an epic tantrum. I. Hate. Alarm. Clocks. The noise has become synonymous with the thought, "Welcome to another day of misery, population: You."


    The bed calls to my soul but resisting allows me to meander out of it and head to the shower. It''s there, the mark. The feel of the power in me is unmistakable. It’s hard to describe. Similar to a goose-bump feeling but it’s swirling everywhere and not quite coming to the surface of your skin. Strangely, no one told me how intense it felt for the first time. Still, part of me does not wish to see it. Just need a little more time not to be disappointed. A little extra time in the shower knowing the day I’m going to have is a welcomed gift at the moment. The mockery, especially from Mason, is not something I’m looking forward to. A few times out of curiosity I try to access my power but get nothing in return for my effort. They say it can take a few days to get a feel for it because it''s likened to getting a new limb and trying to figure out how to use it.


    After my shower, I start to dry off in front of the mirror. Placing my hands on the counter, and looking into my eyes, the words in my mind tell me not to look but there’s no choice. It’s the only way to know for sure. What would it be? How many points are on the mark? And what color?


    If it’s a one-point mark my life is over. I’ll never live it down.


    Anxiousness takes over, and my body turns around of its own accord. There in the mirror, something unexplainable stares back. The immediate fear is rooted in the unknown foreign object on my back. It’s not a normal mark. It’s a symbol. The infinity symbol. Whereas a normal mark looks similar to a Lichtenberg figure, this one is almost smooth and shaped perfectly beside a few points branching off of the symbol. It seems as though my mark was developing and branched off into this symbol where it would normally peak. Darker than anything I’ve ever seen, reminiscent of a hole into nothingness on my back. Specks of white invade my vision and cause me to close and rub my eyes. It’s as if it isn’t meant to be seen. There was only ever one person with this color. RED. But the symbol? Putting a shirt on I collect myself and leave the bathroom.


    "Sweetie, I made you some birthday breakfast. Come downstairs!" my mom shouts from the kitchen.


    "Be right there Mom!"


    I can''t tell anyone about this. Even I don''t know what it means. What if I''m secretly a psycho like him? The Titan Legion will kill me without question to prevent that threat. Telling my mom isn’t an option either. If she finds out she’ll be in danger too.


    My feet stumble, trying to hurry downstairs to grab breakfast. Pulling the chair out I sit down abruptly, attempting to seem as if nothing is wrong.


    "Well, let me see it, sweetie," my mom says tugging at my shirt. Pulling it away from her trying to act like it''s me being shy, an idea strikes me.


    Adjusting in my seat trying to avoid the awkwardness of outright lying, my brain makes a valiant effort at being somewhat useful, "It''s a shielding four-point mark.”


    Choosing shielding is my best option because it’s a defensive power and notoriously the most difficult to use. They require intense concentration and can take weeks to manifest their first shield training diligently.


    "Oh, my baby is a protector. How cool. Even though it''s a low number it is still useful for certain things," she says trying to reassure me.


    At a four the only thing it''s good for is an umbrella—for a small rodent. Unfortunately, I’m not that lucky, and I have something known as death incarnate.


    I’m thinking about asking my mom to call me out sick to school, but there are two major tests today, and missing them isn’t an option. And it won''t change the fact that I would have to go back eventually. It’s probably best to suck it up and go to school—against my better judgment.


    Grabbing my backpack, the weight of it seems heavier today—full of my crushed hopes and dreams. Each step to the bus stop is slow and labored, a million thoughts running through my head the entire way there.


    Pacing at the bus stop, my brain fails to rationalize what I saw on my back. The only thing it does is give me more questions and anxiety.


    After what seems like an eternity the bus finally arrives. Shuffling in, making myself look as inconspicuous as possible, my usual seat is empty which prompts a small praise to escape my lips. Head down, my body shifts as far into the cushion as possible, expending every effort to avoid unwanted attention.


    Avoiding everyone at school is tough, to say the least, especially Rick, but I still manage to finish three classes so far without seeing anyone. Thankfully both tests are part of my first and second classes. It helps to keep my mind focused, though it’s also a major distraction. Probably could have done better if I didn’t have this god-forsaken symbol on my back giving me a panic attack.


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    A sense of calm washes over me and faith builds—if I''m careful I can pull this off and make it home without talking to anyone. One mistake can mean prison or worse. Still don’t have the faintest clue of what I’m going to do going forward. Surviving one day at a time is my only goal at the moment.


    The bell rings, signaling the end of the period, and the hallway fills with students heading to their next class. Walking from one end of the school to the other for my History class is ridiculous, and the layout earns a silent curse. Halfway there, a commotion breaks out in a side hallway with students gathered around, egging something on. That''s when I see it.


    Mason is attacking Rick. He’s forcing Rick to use his powers to deflect small shots of fire at him. If Mason wants, he could easily overpower him, but he enjoys playing with his prey. He begins increasing his pace, singeing small pieces of skin with what seems like first-degree burns.


    Without thinking I immediately push my way through the crowd and shove Mason into the lockers, standing in front of Rick. Mason has about thirty pounds on me and he’s considered lethal not even at his maximum power level. So basically, I’m a fucking idiot.


    "Stop you asshole, don''t you see you''re hurting him!" I scream at Mason. I know I''m going to get torched for this but I''m tired of his crap. Rick stands behind me exhausted, with small burns in his clothes. "Dude you''re crazy, you know his temper. He may kill you without thinking," Rick says in concern.


    "Kill him? I''m going to send his teeth to his mother in a separate bag because he''s going to be nothing but ashes!" Mason grunts out through clenched teeth. He''s turned a bright red, not from his power but from blood rushing to his face in anger.


    "So, you turned eighteen today, what are you sporting that you grew a pair huh? I could use a good throw-down," Mason says furiously.


    "None of your business." This isn''t going to end well.


    "Oh, I think it is, my curiosity is getting the best of me. Hey guys, grab him," Mason says as he motions to his other jock buddies.


    Before I can react, they pin me up against the lockers with my back facing them, arms pulled down and pressed against the bottom lockers, unable to move an inch. I can barely hear Ashley shouting for them to stop over the rest of the students egging on the fight. The taste of metal in my mouth as his teammates press my face against the grated doors. The smell of their rancid breath as they struggle to hold me in place, huffing in my direction, makes me gag internally.


    "No. Stop! Don''t!” I shout but Mason doesn''t care. It won’t help but it’s all I’ve got.


    "What''s wrong Hunter? Afraid everyone will see your shame? I bet it''s a one-point mark," Mason laughs as he grabs my shirt.


    In one swift motion, he rips my buttoned shirt off and the entire hallway is filled with gasps.


    "What the hell is that?" Mason shouts in panic and fear.


    He takes the stance of a cornered animal—pure instinct and pure terror. His reaction isn’t to run, but to unleash a deadly attack. Mason channels his power into his hands, forging a densely packed fireball, primed to kill. It happens in an instant—too fast to be his full power, but still more than enough to maim me. Or worse. He doesn’t stop to consider the weight of his actions. In his eyes, RED stands before him. The ultimate threat to the world itself. With a symbol on his back that fights against his own knowledge of reality.


    At full power he will kill me but even at half power my body can end up with serious injuries. The hallway fills with a black haze. My eyes glaze over. My vision fades into overwhelming darkness, darker than anything I’ve ever seen, yet my vision is crystal clear. I turn around right before the full force of his blast reaches me. Out of pure instinct, my power activates and sends his blast into the void. A small flat disk appears to protect me and disappears as quickly.


    "Oh, you like showing off your little fire tricks? Cute. Let me show you what real power looks like!" I shout in a rage bellowing from depths only Hell is acquainted with. Fuck him. He’s been bullying nearly the entire school for half the year since he got his powers. Why should I give a shit if he gets what''s coming to him?


    I don’t know how I’m doing this. I don’t even know what I’m doing. I’m running off pure rage and instinct. It feels so goddamn good. I reach into the terrifying abyss that opens a wellspring of power, and a spherical amalgamation of my hate starts to grow in my palm. It hurts, my body isn’t used to it. More and more it pulls from some unknown source of energy as it seeps into every part of my body. It resembles a raging turbulent sea, seemingly without end. The sensation worms its way through my body, the temperature so cold it burns with a raging inferno.


    Papers and books begin to fly about the hallway furiously. The energy emanating from me is causing a localized windstorm. I''m going to wipe these good-for-nothing shitheads out of existence and couldn’t care less about the aftermath. The anger and rage are intoxicating. I feel free.


    "Stop man! No, don’t!" Mason’s screams almost seem muffled. I barely register what he is saying.


    Another voice catches the edge of my attention, but can’t make out who it is. It’s soft, lingering as a delicate flower in my mind. It’s laced with concern and…something else?


    As I lift my hand to obliterate these degenerates a pair of the softest lips touches mine. Lips that are sweet, sensual, loving, and warm. It tastes of honey and beeswax lip balm. The haze recedes from my eyes, the sphere blinks out of existence, and my vision clears. It''s Ashley and she is kissing me. Not just a peck. She is full-on parents-aren’t-home-make-out-session with me.


    She breaks off the kiss and looks at me in the eyes, "I''ve wanted to do that for a while now, I figured this was the perfect time since you needed to calm down.”


    Completely caught off guard, my brain in a state of shock, she continues back to my lips for a few more seconds and sends me into a pile of mush. This is going to get very interesting. And severely complicated.