The alarm clock's sound cut through the silence of my room, pulling me out of a deep sleep. Morning sunlight streamed through the curtains, bathing the space in a soft glow. I rubbed my eyes, still feeling the weight of yesterday's emotions. But I knew I needed to move quickly. The earlier I left the house, the fewer questions I'd have to answer.
After dressing and packing my bag, I crept down the stairs in silence. The house was quiet; my grandparents were still asleep. I left a short note on the kitchen table: Went to school. Back tonight. Love you both.
I hesitated for a moment, staring at the note, before slipping out the door quietly.
The cool morning air helped clear my mind as I walked to school, but the doubts lingered. I kept replaying the events from the alley in my head, wondering if what had happened was something I could control—or just an emotional outburst I couldn't explain.
When I reached the school's outskirts, I spotted Evander leaning against the usual lamppost, focused on his phone. The moment he saw me, he let out an exaggerated sigh, slipping his phone into his pocket.
— There you are! — he exclaimed, eyebrows furrowed, his expression a mix of relief and light annoyance. — What do you think you're doing here? You should be resting!
I tried to avoid his gaze, shrugging.
— I'm fine, Evander. Don't worry.
— Fine? — He crossed his arms, his tone dripping with irony. — You were practically passed out yesterday. And now you just show up like nothing happened?
— I couldn't miss another day. I don't want to draw attention.
Evander shook his head, disappointed.
— You're impossible, you know that? Fine. Have it your way. But if you pass out in the middle of class, I'll personally drag you to the nurse.
I chuckled softly, appreciating his concern, even though I wanted to end the conversation.
— Let's go, Evander. Class is about to start.
We walked together, though Evander kept throwing concerned glances my way.
Throughout the day, I did my best to act normal, but something felt off. I avoided answering my grandparents' calls and texts, even though every notification made my chest tighten.
"Not now… I just need time," I muttered to myself whenever their names appeared on the screen.
At the restaurant where I worked after school, the familiar routine provided a temporary sense of normalcy. The smell of food, the clatter of pans, and the hustle of taking orders distracted me from everything else. I carried out my tasks without complaint, though I couldn't ignore the growing guilt over ignoring my grandparents.
It was already night when my shift ended, and I stepped out into the crisp evening air. The sky was clear, but the cold lingered. With my headphones on, I walked home, lost in thought, when a sharp scream pierced the night.
— Help! — The voice of a girl, filled with desperation, echoed from a nearby alley.
I froze, my heart pounding. Pulling off my headphones, I ran toward the sound.
The sight that greeted me made my blood run cold: a girl was cornered by two men, one of them holding her down and tearing at her shirt as she struggled to break free.
I recognized her immediately: Amélia, a quiet and kind classmate from school.
I took a step back, panic and indecision gripping me. I glanced around, searching for help, but the street was deserted. It was just me.
"What do I do?" The question tore through my mind, fear and doubt threatening to paralyze me.
Then I felt it again—that surge of energy, bubbling within me like a fire waiting to ignite.
Pulling a flu mask from my bag—one I usually wore on cold days—I slipped it over my face.
"Forget the fear… this isn't about you."
With a burst of determination, I ran toward them.
— Hey! Let her go, now! — My voice was muffled by the mask but firm.
The men turned to me, startled, before one of them smirked.
— And what are you gonna do about it? — he mocked, stepping toward me.
Instinctively, I raised my hand—and before I even understood what was happening, a strong gust of wind erupted from me, throwing the man backward with force. He hit the ground hard, his face a mix of pain and shock.
The other man dropped Amélia's bag and bolted without a second glance.
Amélia collapsed to the ground, trembling and crying. I rushed to her side.
— Are you okay? — I asked, my voice softer now.
She looked up at me, her eyes wet with tears, and nodded shakily.
— Y-yes… thank you.
I picked up her bag and handed it to her.
— Go home. Don't tell anyone about this.
Before she could respond, I slipped away through the other end of the alley, leaving my jacket behind for her to cover herself. My heart pounded like a drum as I disappeared into the night.
Amélia sat there for a few moments, clutching her torn shirt and my jacket, her hands still trembling.
— Who was he? — she whispered, a mix of awe and disbelief in her voice.
As I walked through the empty streets, the cold night air felt different now—lighter, almost refreshing. I glanced at my hands, a small smile forming on my face for the first time in a while.
"I did something good… I saved someone."
The warmth of that thought wrapped around me like a blanket. For the first time in what felt like forever, I wondered if my powers might be more than just a burden.
But as I continued walking, the smile faded. My grandmother's words echoed in my mind like a distant warning:
"You never wanted to be a hero. Your dream was always to inspire people in other ways."
I shook my head, trying to push the thought away, but it clung to me. She was right… I'd never wanted to save the world or bear the responsibility of other people's lives.
Then, another memory surfaced—those nights spent playing RPGs with Evander and his friends. I always chose to play the mage. Not because it was the strongest or most feared role, but because the mage's job was to protect the team, to heal, to support others when they needed it most.
I smiled to myself, remembering how Evander would tease me:
— Zeph, why do you always wanna be the support? Don't you ever wanna be the warrior or the leader?
And I'd laugh, replying:
— Because the support keeps everyone alive. They're the reason the team makes it through.
The thought hit me like lightning. Maybe, deep down, I'd always wanted to help people. Maybe that was who I'd been all along—even if I hadn't realized it.