That night, I sat at the edge of my bed, staring into the void. My mind was filled with questions and worries.
— What do I do now? — I asked the wind, as if expecting an answer.
I closed my eyes, replaying the fight in the building. I wasn't prepared. If those men came back—and I knew they would—they might win.
— I need to get better. I need to be stronger.
I looked down at my hands, feeling the wind and the heat of flames begin to form again.
— Whatever happens, I won't let them capture me.
But at the same time, I knew I couldn't do this alone.
— Evander… Amelia… should I tell them? — I asked softly, as if the wind might respond.
Closing my eyes, I finally felt the exhaustion taking over. I needed strength. I needed control. And above all, I needed a plan.
The morning light seeped through my bedroom curtains, but I'd already been awake for a while, staring at the ceiling. The night had been anything but peaceful. Flashes of the fight in the building, the sound of gunfire, and the men's shouts still echoed in my mind.
I got up slowly, my body feeling heavy, as if exhaustion had seeped into my very bones. My grandmother's words from the night before played in my head over and over:
"You don't have to carry everything on your own."
But how could I share something like this with them? The closer they got to me, the more danger they'd be in.
As I dragged myself to the bathroom, memories of the men, the gunfire, and the fear of being captured came back with uncomfortable clarity.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror. The deep dark circles under my eyes and the vacant look in them left no doubt—I was wearing myself out faster than I should.
— I need to fix this before it's too late, — I murmured, splashing cold water on my face.
I changed quickly and headed downstairs, trying to seem normal, but the tension in the room was palpable. My grandparents were sitting at the breakfast table, speaking in low voices. My grandmother shot me a quick glance but looked away, as if not wanting to start another difficult conversation.
— Morning, — I muttered, grabbing an orange from the fruit bowl.
— Morning, — my grandfather replied, but his tone was neutral, almost distant.
The silence was uncomfortable, as if an invisible wall had risen between us.
I sat at the table and poured myself some coffee, trying to ignore the awkward tension. But my grandmother didn't take long to break it.
— You haven't been doing well at school lately, — she said, glancing at me. — Or at home… or at work.
I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her words.
— I know... — I murmured.
She sighed, setting her cup down with more force than necessary.
— Zephyr, we can't help you if you don't tell us what's going on.
My grandfather finally stepped in, his deep voice cutting through the air.
— Leave the boy alone, Lena. He doesn't want to talk.
— He can't keep going on like this, Henry! — she retorted, now looking at me directly. — We're here for you, Zephyr. But you're pushing us away.
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to keep my frustration in check.
— I know you're worried, but... it's just a phase, okay? I'll handle it.
My grandmother looked like she was about to say something else, but my grandfather placed a hand over hers, silently asking her to stop.
— I need to go. I'm heading straight to school.
Before anyone could respond, I slipped out the door.
The walk to school was quiet, but my mind was racing. I needed a plan. I needed to train harder, but I also needed to figure out what was going on around me. Who else was involved in this?
When I arrived at school, everything seemed normal—students running around, loud conversations in the hallways, and teachers trying to maintain order. But for me, it all felt out of place, as if I were out of sync with the world around me.
Evander was by the gate, scrolling through his phone, but he didn't look at me as I walked past. I felt a pang in my chest but couldn't bring myself to approach him. How could I reconcile with him when I was hiding so much?
In class, I sat by the window, as usual.
Amelia walked in a few minutes later, but to my surprise, she came straight to me.
— Hi, Zephyr, — she said, giving me a shy smile as she sat in the desk next to mine.
— Hi, Amelia, — I replied, trying to sound casual, but my voice came out hesitant.
She watched me for a moment, as if carefully choosing her words.
— You look... tired. Is everything okay?
I hesitated. For a moment, I thought about telling her something—maybe not everything, but enough to lighten the weight I was carrying. But I held back.
— I'm fine. Just a tough week, you know?
Amelia nodded slowly, but her gaze seemed to say she didn't believe me.
— If you ever need someone to talk to… I'm here.
I smiled faintly, appreciating the gesture, but I knew I couldn't take her up on it.
After school, I went straight to the restaurant. Even though my mind was racing, I needed to pretend things were normal.
The restaurant was busy, as usual. My boss, Mr. Clement, was at the counter organizing orders, but he looked at me with concern as soon as I walked in.
— Zephyr, you look like a zombie. Are you okay? — he asked as I tied on my apron.
— I'm fine. Just tired, — I replied, trying to sound nonchalant.
— Alright, but if you need a day off, just say the word. You've been working too much lately.
I nodded but didn't say anything else.
The hours at the restaurant dragged on. While I served customers and cleaned tables, my mind kept drifting back to the events of the last few days. I knew the men sent by that "doctor" would return. It was only a matter of time—and I didn't even know who this doctor was.