It lifted him higher from the ground, tightening its grip. With all its force it threw its right fist and punched him in the chest, sending him flying across the corridor.
The spectators opened a wide gap which Brendan flew through, breaking through the wall and slamming into a tree a large distance from the broken wall.
Students and teachers were fighting to get through the exit made on the wall. The monster too was moving slowly towards that same exit. All the students and teachers stood far from Brendan and this giant monster, some on the left and others on the right; watching though, to see how it would end.
Brendan sluggishly got up and felt a slight cramp in his lower back, the same part that had slammed into the tree.
The monster wiped the blood flowing from its nostrils again with the back of its hand, smearing the blood all over its mouth like a toddler eating chocolate.
Brendan stood up straight and looked directly at the monster. He felt feelings rise inside him; the same feelings he had felt when he had stood up against Thomas. It felt like courage and hope and at the same time it also felt like uncontrollable anger, power and depravity. His mind suddenly went blank. He said, 'Life is the source of my power. Darkness, wickedness and cruelty I shall devour. Vengeance is my specialty, upon those who show no mercy!!!' It was as though someone else was controlling his mind and body. With his enhanced speed, he ran towards the monster and began bashing it with punches all over its face.
The monster was now roaring in pain.
When he saw how weak the monster was becoming, he began using combinations of jabs, uppercuts, head butts and kicks.
The monster dropped to its knees and stooped its head low, weak from the brutal assault.
Brendan's hands were now covered with the monster's blood. His attack had stopped and he now stood an arm's length from it. He turned his gaze on his hands which were grossly drenched in blood. It was as if he had been dreaming. It was like when someone was dreaming committing an appalling act and there was nothing they could do to stop themselves, and when they woke up, all that was left was the shame. That is what Brendan felt now. He turned his eyes to the people watching and saw how awestricken they were and then he brought his eyes back to the hideous monster. Its face was battered and scarred. Did he really do this? he thought. He had been there in the dream, making the moves, but he hadn't really been there. He was so confused. He felt remorse rise up inside him for this massive but pathetic creature before him, on its knees and completely defenseless now, swaying sideways like it was moving to a slow song in its head. Brendan had never felt such shame in his life.
But suddenly, that feeling was snatched by a feeling of vengeful power. He was pulled back into that dream state and he lost control. His body took over. He felt an irresistible surge of strength and impulsivity. He gave the monster a right-hand uppercut which sent it flying at least a hundred feet into the air and it came crashing down, shaking the ground on impact with its back.
It lay motionless.
Brendan moved closer to it, assuming it to be dead.
It began to reduce size. Slowly and slowly it shrunk until it was someone Brendan knew.
It was Angus! How could he not have known that? Angus had told him about a stupid thing he had done. He must have made a deal with the Finch.
He was still breathing, but just. His trousers had been stretched to a ridiculous size and the rest of his body was bare, covered in sweat and his face smudged with blood.
Brendan knelt beside him on one knee. 'Why did you do it?' he asked him. Thanks to the balaclava and him deepening his voice, Angus could not recognize him.
'Because I want to be known,' Angus barely mumbled. 'The Finch told me that..,' he coughed, '…that I had a great future ahead of me. She said I was a hero waiting to be born. She called me, "The boy of legend".'
'What made you think that? What made you believe that she was telling you the truth?'
'Because she told me the boy of legend comes from a broken home; from rags and filth, just like me…'
Brendan bowed his head in sadness and regret. How could the Finch go this far? Just an innocent boy, a teenager, and she dupes him with such a lie? And for what? What did that witch have to gain from turning Angus into a monster?
Angus coughed two more times. 'You know what my rhyme was..?' he asked Brendan.
'No…do you want to tell me though?'
He opened his mouth to speak but coughed one more time then breathed his last.
Brendan restrained a tear from flowing from his eye. The person in front of him, a person he had been talking to not more than an hour ago was dead. He stood up but maintained his silence. He had just murdered a human being who had obviously been unconscious of what he had been doing, only pawned by a cold-blooded witch.
The crowd began to draw closer.
'Oh my word..!' Natasha Andrews exclaimed, cupping her mouth in shock. 'Is that Angus?' She started sobbing.
'Who are you, young man?' Mr. Sparrow asked Brendan. No one dared to come within at least five feet of a person who had just battered a giant freak of nature to death using only his bare hands.
Brendan turned his eyes towards them and they took a few steps back in fear.
He said, 'I am just a man. A man with no name, and no history.' And just like that, he vanished before their eyes like a ghost.