Matthew returned home and the time was five minutes before midnight. Standing in front of the door, he saw that the doorknob was fixed. But there was also a sound coming from behind it.
"I swear if Matthew returns I will beat the shit out of him!"
"Oh please don't do that. He didn't mean it."
Those voices belonged to his father and mother. And it seemed that they are arguing on whether they will punish him for breaking the door earlier. Matthew hesitated for a moment. He didn't want to make things worse, but he knew he had to face whatever was waiting for him inside.
Taking a deep breath, he carefully opened the door, this time making sure not to break it. As soon as he stepped in, he saw his father sitting on the couch, a half-empty bottle of beer in hand, his face flushed from drinking. His mother stood by the kitchen, her arms crossed, trying to calm the situation.
The moment Matthew stepped inside, his father's eyes locked onto him. Without warning, his father hurled the bottle of beer at him in a fit of rage. But something strange happened. To Matthew, the bottle seemed to move in slow motion, almost as if time itself had slowed down. He watched the bottle spin lazily through the air, the liquid inside sloshing around, and simply tilted his head to the side to avoid it.
Crash!
The bottle hit the wall behind him, shattering into pieces.
Matthew's father stood up, his face twisted in anger. "You think you're tough now, huh? Think you can just break my house and get away with it?" His father rushed at him, intending to shove him against the wall.
But when his father's hands made contact with Matthew's chest, something unexpected happened—Matthew didn't budge. He stood firm, unmoved by the force of his father's push. Instead, his father stumbled back, recoiling as if he had just slammed into a brick wall.
His father's eyes widened in disbelief. "What the...?" He tried again, this time putting all his weight into the push. But no matter how hard he tried, Matthew didn't move an inch.
Matthew's mother, seeing the scene unfold, shouted, "Stop it! Please, both of you!"
But his father, now even more frustrated, slapped him in the face—.
"Argh!"
Matthew didn't even flinch. The slap, which would normally sting, felt like nothing more than a light tap on his skin. His father recoiled, cradling his own hand in pain, realizing that something was very wrong. He stared at Matthew, the anger in his eyes slowly being replaced by confusion.
"Father…thank you for fixing the door. It was an accident and I swear it will not happen again. You have drunk too much beer and I think it's time for you to go to sleep."
"Matthew..?!" His mother was dumbfounded by Matthew's words. It was like he was ordering his father around, something he had never done before. His father, still holding his injured hand, stared at Matthew, bewildered. He looked like he wanted to argue, but the sheer calmness in Matthew's voice disarmed him.
Without another word, his father turned, confused and a little shaken, and made his way toward the bedroom. He mumbled something incoherent as he passed by Matthew, his footsteps heavy with the lingering effects of alcohol. When he reached the door, he quietly slipped into the room, shutting the door behind him.
Matthew stood in silence for a few moments, trying to process everything that had just happened. His father, usually so quick to snap and argue, had actually listened to him. It wasn't like he had used any special force—he had simply spoken, and his father had complied.
"That was weird."
"Matthew…" his mom called.
"I'm going to sleep too mom, it has been a long weird day for me," Matthew said tiredly. He didn't wait for a response as he slowly made his way toward his room.
"Goodnight, Mom," he added softly as he opened his door. Matthew carefully closed his bedroom door, half expecting the handle to break again, but this time it stayed intact. He let out a sigh of relief and carefully sat on the edge of his bed, making sure not to break it again.
He lay back, staring at the ceiling. He had powers now, incredible ones. What was he supposed to do with them? Was this a blessing or a curse?
'What if I can't control it?' he thought.
As exhaustion finally began to settle in, Matthew let out a long breath. He needed answers, but for now, he needed sleep more. Tomorrow, maybe, he'd start figuring out what to do next. Maybe.
Slowly, his eyelids grew heavy, and the day's events blurred as he drifted off to sleep.