I lay sprawled on my bed, the events of the day replaying in my mind like a broken record. Every time I thought I had a grip on what was happening, something new would slip through my fingers, leaving me more confused than before.
Marco, the relentless bully who'd made my life hell, had been reduced to a groveling mess by his sister, Sheila. The image of her dragging him by the ear was seared into my brain.
Sheila had walked in, exuding a confidence that commanded attention. Her presence had an unsettling effect, not just on Marco, but on me as well. It was clear that she held some kind of power, one that could bring even Marco to his knees.
I shifted on my bed, trying to piece it all together. How could someone make Marco act like that?
Suddenly, a thought struck me like a lightning bolt. I sat up quickly, my heart pounding. "She must be more of a bully than him," I murmured, a faint smirk forming on my lips.
The idea seemed ridiculous at first, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. But then another question surfaced, one that sent a chill down my spine. How did she know about what happened?
I leaned back against the headboard, my mind racing. The possibility of another group stalking my house made my skin crawl.
What if Sheila wasn't just a bigger bully? What if she was something else entirely? My mind drifted to the strange occurrences I'd been experiencing—the sudden heat in my body, the glowing veins, and eyes. Could these be signs of being "special"?
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. Even I didn't fully understand what being "special" meant. I knew my body would heat up, and my veins and eyes would glow, but beyond that, I was clueless.
I needed answers, but I had no idea where to start. My thoughts spiraled into countless theories, each more far-fetched than the last.
Could it be a genetic mutation? Perhaps a latent superpower awakening? Or maybe something even more fantastical, like an alien influence?
Each theory seemed less plausible than the one before, yet none could be entirely dismissed. What I did know was that these occurrences defied all logic.
They had to be part of some supernatural phenomenon. But why me? Why now?
Frustrated, I got up and paced the room. I grabbed the two cards I had received, one from the man in the suit and one from Sheila.
The similarities were uncanny—the same logo, font, style, and even the width of the card. The only difference was the name and contact number.
The man's card bore a cryptic code, XXII, while Sheila's had her name.
I sank back into my chair, the cards trembling slightly in my hand. The connection between the two was undeniable.
Could they be part of the same organization? And if so, what did that mean for me? The organization the man had mentioned was investigating unnatural phenomena. Did that make me one of their subjects? Or worse, one of their targets?
The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. The supernatural occurrences couldn't be explained by logic alone. There had to be something more at play here.
But that only led to more questions. How did this happen to me? Why did it happen? And most importantly, how could I figure out what was going on?
I lay back down on my bed, draping my arm over my eyes. The blinding light from the radiant phenomenon outside still seeped through the gaps in the curtains, casting an eerie glow across the room.
It had been an exhausting day. Too many events had happened in such a short span of time. The fight with Marco and his gang, the unexpected apology from Sheila, and the looming mystery of what was happening to me.
And then there was Marco. His reaction to Sheila's mention of me being "special" had been one of genuine surprise. Could he be part of this organization too?
The idea seemed absurd, yet somehow plausible. Marco was a bully, a thug, but what if there was more to him? What if he was "special" as well?
I closed my eyes, trying to calm my racing thoughts. The fight with Marco had been intense, almost surreal. My body had reacted in ways I couldn't understand.
The heat, the glowing veins, and the burst of strength—it all seemed to point to something beyond normal human capabilities. Was this what made me "special"? And if so, how many others were out there like me?
The apology from Sheila had been a curveball. She seemed genuinely sorry for her brother's actions, but there was something more to her.
An air of authority, a confidence that suggested she knew much more than she was letting on. Her connection to the man in the suit only deepened the mystery.
I thought about Marco again. Could he be part of this organization? His reaction to Sheila's words had been one of disbelief, as if he had heard something that shattered his understanding of the world.
But why would he, of all people, be involved in this? He was a bully, plain and simple. Yet, there was a possibility that he was "special" too, and that our paths had crossed for a reason.
As I lay there, I couldn't help but feel a mixture of fear and excitement. Fear of the unknown, and excitement about the possibilities.
I needed answers, but I didn't know where to start. The cards in my hand seemed like the only clue I had. I needed to find out more about this organization and what they wanted from me.