Lauren's POV:
Back when I was a kid, my mom had this habit of leaving me home alone to globe-trot and collaborate with top notch chefs, always coming back with their secret recipes. I'd eagerly await her return, my heart brimming with excitement. By the time I hit thirteen, I'd picked up the knack of taking care of our modest home when she was away. I'd tidy up, make a few repairs, and keep the place in order. When she returned, it was time for another culinary lesson from a woman who'd made a name for herself, earning money by joining forces with other culinary wizards to exchange knowledge and skills.
In the meantime, I had my own routine. Waiting at home for her to reappear, going about my daily business, and treasuring every moment spent with her. I loved her deeply.
I also attended a regular public school and made a few friends. But my power was my secret. I couldn't afford to reveal it; my friends might perceive it as manipulation. In a school full of kids showcasing their talents, mine was a hidden gem. If anyone discovered my ability, they might assume I was controlling people to stay by my side. Friends could abandon me, believing I manipulated them, and teachers might suspect that I achieved good grades through the same means.
A normal life was my aspiration, even though it remained somewhat elusive.
I still had a few days before my mom's return, so I could put off the clean-up duty for now.
Classes were about to begin, and the first one was French. I didn't mind French lessons; it wasn't because I was particularly fond of studying, even though I did excel in my studies. Our teacher was pretty laid-back, and I had my spot in the fifth row, right next to the window, sharing a bench with my friend, Camille. We strategically sat there to maintain a safe distance from the teacher's watchful eye.
Camille was taller than me, as were most of the class. She had long, wavy brown hair and hazel eyes that sparkled with mischief. The bench in front of us was occupied by my other two friends, Sophie and Jean. Sophie struggled to mimic my twintails because her wild curls made it nearly impossible. She was a bright ginger with green eyes and long eyelashes that almost brushed against the freckles on her face. Jean, on the other hand, was Sophie's brother from another mother. He seemed perpetually unhappy with his appearance—short-cropped, light brown hair and piercing green eyes. Little did many know, he had a crush on Camille, while Isabelle, who sat solo in a bench behind me, harbored feelings for him.
Isabelle, our lone warrior, had long, black hair and piercing grey eyes. There was something about her that reminded me of that girl from that movie who climbs out of a well and through the TV. But I wasn't afraid of her, not after seeing some videos of that ghost where she did more indecent things than in the movie.
"Ren, why are you looking at me like that?" Isabelle asked with her soft, whispering tone.
I smiled and replied, "Oh, no big reason. I was just thinking that you look beautiful today as well." giving her a compliment.
Out of our class, only Isabelle, Jean, and Claire from the other side of the room had powers.
Isabelle's power was pretty cool; she could turn invisible, and the shadowier it was, the better it worked. Sunlight was a no-go for her, though.
Jean, on the other hand, had a knack for changing the density of objects when he touched them. It was an odd choice, but he liked to reshape his pencils.
As for Claire, she was this short-haired blondie with a fiery temper, which always shone through her bright blue eyes. Her power was unique too—she could increase her stamina and quickly replenish it. It was so potent that they didn't allow her to participate in any school sports festivals.
I wished I could brag about my powers like others did. It just didn't seem fair that I had to bear such a menacing ability.
After the lessons ended, I was ready to head to the exit, but as I strolled down the corridor, I heard the sounds of someone crying from one of the lockers. Without hesitation, I sprinted to get Jean's assistance with the lock.
"What happened to you?" I asked the guy, about a year younger than me, whom we had just set free. His blue eyes were tired and teary.
"T-they took her..." he mumbled.
"Took who?!" I had to ask, my heart racing.
"That girl from the upper class... she tried to turn invisible to run away, but they caught her, and I tried to help her, but it only turned out this way..."
Through his broken words, I understood the severity of the situation—something terrible had happened to Isabelle.
I'll continue with the narration:
"Where did they go?!" Jean asked, his rage simmering on the surface.
"To the classroom under renovation," the distressed boy stammered.
With no further words, Jean stormed off to the location, and I followed closely, holding onto his sleeve.
We arrived at the scene to find four guys from another class, all of the same year as us. They didn't look particularly strong, but we were still outnumbered. Isabelle was seated on a bench, her hands held by one of the individuals, tears streaming down her face. Her blouse was unbuttoned, and her skirt had been pulled down. We'd reached just in the nick of time, before things could take a darker turn.
Jean lunged at one of the guys, landing a few blows, but another guy soon joined the fray. I couldn't stand by and let them have their way. I leaped onto one guy's back, attempting to choke him. He stumbled around for a moment before slamming me against the wall with his back. I tumbled to the ground, my mind in a fog.
I felt helpless, struggling to regain my composure. Through my cloudy vision, I witnessed the others beating up Jean.
"This one's also a good catch!" one of the boys exclaimed.
"We gotta bang them both!" another added.
They threw me onto the table next to Isabelle, and I struggled to keep my clothes in place. The situation was desperate, and I knew there was only one option left.
I had to use my power.
"Stop!" I shouted with all the authority I could muster.
The struggle around me calmed. The two guys who had been restraining me froze in place.
"G-get away from me." I stammered, my voice shaky but determined.
At my command, the two out of the four who held me were now under my control.
"Fight each other." I ordered.
My 'pawns' turned and attacked the remaining two aggressors. Isabelle couldn't believe her eyes, and even Jean, who was barely conscious, witnessed the unexpected turn of events.
I touched the other two boys.
"Fight!" I commanded, and they began brawling wildly.
Isabelle and I quickly helped Jean to his feet, and we walked away from the chaos.
I called for the teachers, and as they arrived at the classroom, I was sent home.
Fortunately, both Isabelle and Jean's parents had come to pick them up.
The tension and anxiety were unbearable as I spent that restless night alone at home. With no one to calm my racing emotions, I managed to force down a small dinner and did my best to sleep off the trauma.
The next day, when I arrived at school, a sense of dread hung in the air. I could feel the weight of everyone's stares; news of the incident must have spread like wildfire.
"Lauren Rousseau, you are being detained for your alleged involvement in a serious incident." a stern voice echoed through the corridor. I turned to see a police officer approaching me, his eyes filled with suspicion and determination. "You are under suspicion of murder and causing grievous bodily harm to multiple individuals. Please remain calm and cooperate with the authorities."
My heart sank as the gravity of the situation hit me like a ton of bricks. I was now faced with a nightmare that I couldn't have imagined just days before.
As I was taken to the juvenile detention center, I anxiously awaited the arrival of my mom. The walls seemed to close in on me, and the uncertainty of my future weighed heavily on my shoulders.
The following day, I finally had the chance to see her. When I spotted my mom, relief and desperation surged within me.
"Mommy! I'm innocent! I didn't mean to do that!" I shouted, running towards her to give her a desperate hug.
"Lauren, I know." she reassured, her voice filled with a mixture of love and concern. "We'll figure it out. I'm here for you." Her words provided a glimmer of hope in the midst of this dire situation.
The trials eventually led to my release and the declaration of my innocence. It was determined that I had acted in self-defense and to protect another individual in a life-threatening situation. The relief of being cleared of the accusations was undeniable, but it came at a heavy cost.
My life at school had been irreversibly changed. My friends had turned their backs on me, unable to forgive me for the years of deception. Those who didn't outright ignore me would have been bullied themselves, just as I was now. I became a target for name-calling and harassment, as people kept their distance, unsure of what my ability was capable of or how it worked. The weight of isolation and the loss of my friends weighed heavily on my shoulders.
The weight of my shattered life had been unbearable, and I struggled to hold the pieces of myself together while breaking apart from the inside.
Around a week after the incident, I returned home to an eerie silence. My mom was usually there to welcome me, but not this time. My anxiety escalated as I looked around the house, searching in the kitchen, the living room, and her bedroom. Something was wrong. I noticed that the rug in our corridor was displaced, as if someone had tripped over it.
My heart raced, and my worst fears were confirmed when I found her in the bathroom. My mother's lifeless body lay there, cold and bruised, blood staining the floor. Tears streamed down my face as I rushed to her side.
"M-mommy..." My voice trembled. "Mom! Mom! Mommy!" But she didn't respond.
Her eyes were closed, one of them swollen and bleeding. She was dead.
"Mooom!" I cried out, my pain echoing through the empty house.
Overwhelmed by guilt and grief, I whispered to myself, "It's my fault, it's all my fault."
Suddenly, I heard footsteps behind me. When I turned around, a tall figure struck me in the face with a clenched fist, and the world went black.
I woke up to a nightmare, the cold shower hose wrapped around my throat, and I gasped for air. My attacker kicked me in the stomach while I struggled to regain my bearings, my mind still foggy from the earlier blow.
Amid my disorientation, I could hear the cries of anger, the voice of an adult man who was unleashing his fury.
"You piece of shit! You killed my son!"
It was clear that he was the father of the boy who had died as a result of my command.
"It... wasn't... my... f-fault..." I managed to whisper through my clenched throat, trying to explain, even as the air was being choked out of me.
"You killed him!" He shouted, his rage unrelenting.
Desperate and with no other choice, I reached out and touched him.
"S-stop..." He fell back, stunned by my command.
I gasped for air and coughed as the shower hose loosened, giving me a brief moment to catch my breath in the midst of the chaos.
Regaining more of my breathing, I spoke through the hoarseness in my voice, "Your... s-son tried to d-defile me... and my friend..." My words trembled with anger and desperation as I tried to explain the circumstances.
As I looked down at my mother's lifeless body, my rage grew uncontrollable. The man who had attacked me deserved no mercy. I stormed into the kitchen, taking every knife I could find, and returned to him, his body still motionless due to my power.
With an unrelenting fury, I began to stab him repeatedly. I pierced him all over, and he was left kneeling on the floor like a pincushion. My heart was filled with a mix of hatred and satisfaction as I continued to inflict wounds upon him, determined to make him pay for his son's actions.
I kept stabbing him until his last breath escaped his lips, and his lifeless body crumpled to the floor. The room was now marked with the terrible violence that had unfolded, and I was left to grapple with the consequences of my actions.
As I sat on the ground, leaning against the bathtub that held my mother's lifeless body, I was surrounded by a chilling scene. My hands and body were stained with blood, and the crimson pool on the floor grew larger with each passing moment. The man who had sought revenge for his son's death now lay motionless on the ground, just as lifeless as my mom.
The world seemed to blur and fade to black, and the next thing I knew, I was in a different place, taken into custody by the police. I found myself locked away in a desolate, light-grey cellroom with cushioned walls and a soft floor. It was a cold and lonely place, a stark contrast to the chaos and violence I had just left behind.
Grief and a profound sense of abandonment washed over me as I sat alone in that cell, trying to come to terms with the tragedy that had torn my life apart.