Matthew's phone blared an alarm, jolting him awake. He groaned, reaching for the phone on his bedside table—only to knock it off with a little too much force. It hit the floor with a crack. He flinched.
"Not again…" he muttered, sitting up. He cautiously got out of bed, making sure not to damage anything else.
The clock on the wall read 6:30 AM. The sunlight barely filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow around his room.
Matthew decided to get ready for school, as if everything was normal. He showered quickly, making sure to use only the gentlest touch when handling things. Even squeezing the toothpaste tube had become a task requiring focus. When he looked at himself in the mirror, he noticed something different—he looked... stronger. His muscles had always been lean, but now they looked more defined, as if his body had been fine-tuned overnight.
"Since when did I get abs?" he muttered under his breath, running his hand over his stomach, the hard muscles feeling alien to him.
Shaking his head in disbelief, he wrapped a towel around his waist, covering his lower half, and stepped out of the bathroom. He needed to get dressed for school, but just as he exited his bedroom, he was greeted by a loud squeal.
"Brother!" His sister, a Grade 10 high school student, stood frozen in the hallway, her eyes wide in shock and embarrassment. "What happened to you?!"
Matthew blinked, startled by her reaction. "What do you mean?" he asked, genuinely confused.
His sister pointed at him, still gawking. "Your body! You look like... like one of those gym freaks!"
Before Matthew could respond, his mother appeared from the kitchen. "What's going on—" Her voice trailed off as she saw Matthew standing in the hallway, his muscular frame clearly visible even under the towel. She gasped, her eyes widening in surprise.
"Matthew?! What... when did this happen?" she exclaimed, her voice full of shock. "How are you so...?"
"I don't know, okay?" Matthew cut in.
His mother and sister exchanged bewildered glances. "That's not something that just happens overnight," his mother said, walking closer to inspect him like she couldn't believe what she was seeing.
"I don't have an explanation for it," Matthew replied, backing up slightly. "Look, can we just act like it's not a big deal? I have to get ready for school."
His sister was still gawking at his body and was creeping him out.
He quickly threw on his school uniform, which now felt snug against his newly bulked-up frame. It was as if his clothes had shrunk overnight, but there was no time to worry about that. He grabbed his bag and headed back to the kitchen, where his mother and sister were now sitting, watching the news.
"Where's Dad?" Matthew asked as he sat down and grabbed a piece of pandesal from the table.
His mother glanced up from the television. "He already left for work. He was in a hurry, and you know how he is when he's in one of his moods," she said, her eyes briefly flicking to the screen.
Matthew nodded, relieved that he wouldn't have to deal with his father this morning. But before he could take a bite, the news report on the television caught his attention.
"Last night, a truck accident shocked the local residents in Manila, as a truck seemingly collided with what witnesses described as a 'person,' only to have the truck destroyed upon impact while the person walked away unharmed."
Matthew froze, his eyes widening as images of the destroyed truck appeared on the screen. The footage showed the crumpled front end, the bent metal, and the tire marks where it had screeched to a stop.
"According to witnesses, the individual fled the scene before authorities could arrive," the news anchor continued. "What's even more baffling is that several nearby CCTV cameras captured footage of a mysterious blur moving at extreme speeds through the city streets shortly before the crash."
The report cut to grainy CCTV footage, showing the streets of Manila at night. A blur shot past the camera, moving so fast it was almost impossible to discern any details. It was just a streak of light, barely visible.
Matthew's heart raced as he watched the footage. That was him. The blur, the truck accident—it all lined up with what happened last night.
His sister, who had been watching the report with growing interest, suddenly looked at him, her eyes wide. "Hey, doesn't that kind of sound like—"
"No, it doesn't," Matthew interrupted quickly, trying to act casual as he stuffed the rest of the pandesal into his mouth. "It's probably just some weird glitch in the camera or something."
His mother frowned, still watching the TV. "Strange things have been happening lately. Just be careful out there, Matthew. You never know what kind of people are on the streets nowadays."
"Yeah... I'll be careful," Matthew muttered, trying to suppress the rising anxiety in his chest.
***
Eight o'clock in the morning. At Manila South High School. Matthew was heading to his first class and when he was in the corridor where the room was located—he spotted Vince and his gang heading towards him.
"Matthew my man! We were worried that you are not going to attend school because we wouldn't have money to spend on our lunches."
Matthew's stomach churned as Vince and his gang approached, their usual smug grins plastered across their faces.
"Yeah, about that…" Matthew muttered, hoping to avoid confrontation.
Vince didn't let him finish. Before Matthew could say another word, Vince's arm was around his neck, pulling him into a rough headlock. "What's wrong, Matthew? You've been slacking off lately. We expect our money, remember?" Vince growled, tightening his grip.
Matthew, still unsure of his control, tried to remain passive. The headlock didn't hurt like it used to—it was more of an annoyance now—but the old fear still gnawed at him. He knew he could get out of it easily, but he didn't want to cause any trouble. Not yet.
"Come on, man. Don't make us ask twice," Troy, one of Vince's goons, sneered from the side.
Vince then slammed Matthew's head against the locker with a dull thud. Normally, this would have left Matthew dazed and in pain, but this time, he barely felt it. Vince pulled back, glaring at him. "You got our money or not?"
Matthew clenched his fists. He wanted to fight back so badly, but the thought of what he could do—how much damage he might cause—held him back. He didn't want to seriously hurt anyone.
But Vince wasn't giving up. He smashed Matthew's head against the locker again. "Don't play dumb with us, Borja! We know you have some cash on you!"
The impact should've hurt, should've left him dizzy, but it felt like nothing. Matthew could've walked away, or better yet, he could've shoved Vince off with ease, but something in him snapped. He'd had enough.
Gritting his teeth, Matthew grabbed Vince's arm and, without exerting much force, peeled it off his neck like it was nothing. The move startled Vince, and he stumbled back a step.
"What the—?" Vince stared at his own arm in disbelief. Matthew had never fought back before, and now, it seemed like Vince's usual intimidation tactics weren't working.
Troy and Eric looked at each other, confusion flickering across their faces. Vince, though, wasn't having it. His eyes narrowed in anger.
"Oh, so you think you're tough now, huh, Borja?" He flexed his hand and glared at Matthew. "You're gonna regret this."
Vince looked around to make sure no teachers or students were watching, then cocked his arm back, preparing to throw a punch. He aimed a right hook at Matthew's face, clearly intending to make him pay for fighting back.
But the moment Vince's fist connected with Matthew's face, there was an audible crack. Vince recoiled, clutching his hand in agony.
"Ah! What the hell?!" Vince screamed, staring at his now swollen and deformed fingers. "What did you do, you freak?"
Matthew hadn't even flinched. Vince's punch, meant to hurt him, had only resulted in Vince breaking his own hand.
Troy and Eric took a step back, their bravado suddenly vanishing. "What the hell, man?" Troy stammered, eyes wide in shock. "What's going on, Vince? He didn't even flinch!"
Vince, cradling his broken hand, looked at Matthew. This is a humiliation to him. He couldn't let this slide.
"You think you're some kind of big shot now, Borja?"
Without thinking, Vince pulled back his other hand, ready to throw another punch. This time, he aimed even harder, determined to wipe the smug look off Matthew's face—or so he thought.
Matthew, seeing Vince's clenched fist coming towards him, reacted instinctively. His hand shot out, catching Vince's fist in mid-air. Vince's eyes widened in shock as Matthew held his punch effortlessly.
"Stop," Matthew said firmly. He didn't shout, didn't need to. There was something different about him now, something commanding.
For a moment, there was a stunned silence. Vince tried to pull his hand free from Matthew's grip, but it was like trying to move a mountain. Matthew didn't squeeze or hurt him; he simply held Vince's fist in place, stopping the punch with ease.
"What the hell, man?!" Vince shouted.
Troy and Eric stood frozen.
This wasn't the Matthew they were used to bullying.
Matthew took a breath, trying to stay calm. He didn't want to hurt Vince—he knew what he was capable of now—but he also wasn't going to stand there and be their punching bag anymore.
"I'm late in my class," Matthew said calmly, releasing Vince's fist.
Vince stumbled back, cradling his injured hand while glaring at Matthew. His pride was wounded more than his body, and he was seething with anger.
"This isn't over, Borja," Vince spat. "After class... outside. You and me. You're dead, freak."
Matthew stared at him for a moment. He felt a surge of emotions—fear, anger, but mostly control. The old Matthew would have been terrified by Vince's threat, but now, things were different. He had the power to end this cycle of bullying, but the question was how far he was willing to go.
"Whatever you say, Vince," Matthew said evenly, turning his back on him and walking toward his classroom. He could hear Vince muttering curses under his breath, but he didn't look back. There was no point in escalating things further. He had shown restraint, and for now, that was enough.