Abraham wasn't sure why he'd waited so long to make the decision, but the moment he stepped onto campus, he knew it was the right one.
The familiar sights greeted him as he walked through the quad: students lounging on the grass, heads bent over books, or chatting animatedly with friends. The hum of campus life was the same as it had always been, a steady rhythm of the mundane world. For a moment, he felt like an outsider peering into a world that had moved on without him.
His eyes, glowing faintly gold now, attracted a few lingering stares. Most people probably thought it was some kind of weird contact lens or a trick of the light, but Abraham knew better. It was another reminder of what he was, of how far he'd strayed from the life these people lived.
He tightened his grip on the strap of his bag and headed toward the administration building. But as he crossed the quad, a familiar voice cut through the air, laced with mockery.
"Well, look who it is. Thought you dropped off the face of the earth, Abe."
Abraham stopped in his tracks and turned slowly. Jared. Of course.
Jared Langston had always been a problem, even before Abraham's life had taken its strange turn. The guy was the epitome of smug entitlement, always quick with a jab or a shove to remind others of his self-proclaimed superiority. But this time, he stood now with a group of his friends, the same pack of sycophants who always seemed to orbit him.
"What do you want, Jared?" Abraham asked, his voice flat.
Jared smirked and stepped closer, his posse trailing behind him like loyal hounds. "Relax, man. Just saying hi. Haven't seen you around in a while. Thought maybe you finally realized this place wasn't for you."
Abraham felt the simmering anger from the night before bubbling up again. He forced himself to take a steadying breath. He didn't have time for this.
"I'm not in the mood," Abraham said, his voice low but firm.
Jared's smirk widened, sensing an opportunity. "Not in the mood? Come on, Abe. You always were too serious. Let's lighten things up a bit."
The crowd around them began to grow as students picked up on the tension. Jared had a knack for drawing an audience, and he reveled in it. Abraham, on the other hand, felt his patience wearing thin.
"Walk away, Jared," Abraham said, his tone a warning.
But Jared didn't walk away. Instead, he took a step closer, his smug expression daring Abraham to react. "What's the matter? Can't handle a little banter? Or are you just too busy pretending to be better than the rest of us?"
Something snapped.
Abraham dropped his bag and stepped forward, closing the distance between them in an instant. Before Jared could react, Abraham's fist connected with his jaw, the sound of the impact echoing across the quad. Jared stumbled backward, his smirk replaced by a look of shock and pain.
The crowd erupted in gasps and murmurs, but Abraham wasn't done. He grabbed Jared by the collar and pulled him back, driving his knee into the other man's stomach. Jared doubled over, wheezing, but Abraham gave him no time to recover.
Blow after blow landed, each one harder than the last. Jared's friends stood frozen, too stunned or too afraid to intervene. The crowd watched in horrified silence as Abraham unleashed the full force of his anger, his knuckles slick with blood by the time he finally stepped back.
Jared lay crumpled on the ground, barely conscious, his face a bruised and bloody mess. Abraham's breathing was heavy, his hands trembling—not from fear or guilt, but from the adrenaline coursing through him.
The crowd parted as he turned and grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. Without a word, he walked away, leaving Jared and the stunned onlookers behind.
—
The administration building was quieter than the quad, the buzz of activity replaced by the low hum of fluorescent lights. Abraham made his way to the principal's office, his footsteps echoing in the empty hallway.
The receptionist looked up as he entered, her polite smile faltering when she saw the state of his hands. "Can I help you?" she asked hesitantly.
"I need to speak with Principal Hargrove," Abraham said, his voice calm despite the storm still raging inside him.
The receptionist hesitated but eventually nodded, picking up the phone to announce his arrival. A moment later, she gestured for him to go in.
Principal Hargrove was a middle-aged man with a no-nonsense demeanor, his neatly trimmed beard and sharp suit giving him an air of authority. He looked up from his desk as Abraham entered, his expression unreadable.
"Abraham," he said, leaning back in his chair. "What can I do for you?"
"I'm dropping out," Abraham said bluntly, not bothering with pleasantries.
Hargrove raised an eyebrow, but he didn't look surprised. "I see. May I ask why?"
Abraham met his gaze, unflinching. "It's personal."
Hargrove studied him for a long moment, his sharp eyes taking in the bruises on Abraham's knuckles and the faint glow in his eyes. He leaned forward, folding his hands on the desk.
"You're a bright student, Abraham. I've seen your grades, your work ethic. This isn't a decision to take lightly."
"I've already made up my mind," Abraham said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
The principal sighed, nodding slowly. "Very well. I'll have the necessary paperwork prepared. But let me give you some advice, whether you want it or not."
Abraham didn't respond, but Hargrove continued anyway. "Whatever's going on in your life, don't let it consume you. You're capable of great things, Abraham. Don't throw that away."
The words might have meant something to him once, but now they felt hollow. Abraham gave a curt nod and turned to leave, the conversation already fading from his mind as he stepped back into the hallway.
—
The walk back across campus was uneventful, the students in the quad giving him a wide berth. The bruises on his knuckles ached, but he barely noticed. His mind was elsewhere, already turning toward the next hunt.
He was done with this place. Done pretending to be someone he wasn't.
The world he was stepping into was darker, more dangerous—but it was also where he belonged.
_____
As Abraham stepped off the campus grounds for what he knew would be the last time, a peculiar sensation settled over him. It wasn't joy—far from it—but it wasn't exactly despair either. It was something colder, sharper, and more insidious: a sense of inevitability. He had tried so hard to cling to the mundane world, to the idea of what his life could have been if everything hadn't gone so wrong. But now, it was clear—this life, this place, these people—it all belonged to someone else.
His fingers flexed involuntarily as he walked, the dried blood on his knuckles cracking and flaking off in tiny crimson shards. The ache in his hand was a dull, steady throb, but he welcomed it. It was something tangible, something real that grounded him in the moment. Still, he couldn't shake the image of Jared, beaten and broken, lying on the quad like a discarded doll. The look in Jared's eyes before the crowd had dispersed—pure, unfiltered fear—stuck with him.
And he didn't regret it.
That was the part that unsettled him. There was no guilt, no shame for what he'd done. Instead, there was a sick, twisted satisfaction that he couldn't quite push away. It gnawed at the edges of his mind, whispering insidious things: He deserved it. You've always known he deserved it. This is what strength feels like.
As the campus disappeared behind him, the world seemed quieter. The usual chatter of pedestrians, the hum of distant traffic—it all felt muffled, as though he was walking through a bubble of his own making. His mind kept replaying the events of the day, from Jared's mocking smirk to the principal's empty reassurances. But one thought rose above the rest, clear and undeniable:
He didn't belong there anymore.
The sidewalk stretched endlessly ahead of him, each step a small rebellion against the life he was leaving behind. He had spent years building a version of himself that could thrive in the mundane world—a dutiful student, a promising programmer, a brother, a son. But that Abraham no longer existed. That Abraham had died the moment the mark appeared, replaced by something far more complex and far more dangerous.
As he passed by rows of houses and small shops, the bustling life around him felt foreign, like a movie playing in the background of his reality. People moved with purpose, chatting, laughing, or scowling into their phones, blissfully unaware of the shadows that lurked just out of sight. Abraham envied them for a moment, their ignorance an armor he could never again wear.
The walk home felt longer than usual, though nothing slowed his pace. His body moved with a purpose all its own, his mind adrift in a sea of conflicting thoughts. He barely registered the familiar streets or the occasional glances from passersby who noticed his glowing eyes and battered hands. They probably thought he was some sort of eccentric or troublemaker, but he didn't care. Not anymore.
He stopped at a crosswalk, watching the light change as cars zoomed by in flashes of color. A couple stood nearby, laughing softly at an inside joke. The woman's face lit up with a warmth that seemed to radiate outwards, her companion mirroring her joy. Abraham's chest tightened, an ache blooming in a place he'd long since tried to ignore.
For a fleeting moment, he imagined himself in their place. A simpler version of himself, unburdened by marks and monsters, sharing a quiet moment of connection with another person. The thought was as intoxicating as it was painful, and he quickly shoved it aside. That life wasn't for him. It never would be.
The light turned green, and he crossed the street, his resolve hardening with each step