Axel made his way toward the bustling school building. At eleven years old, he was finally starting formal school, a prospect that filled his nannies and butlers with both hope and trepidation. Axel didn't speak, but he had his own ways of communicating through pictures and writing, which he often used to express his thoughts. As he entered the classroom, he felt the weight of the other children's stares. Samuel and Phillip, two boys who seemed to thrive on the discomfort of others, immediately took notice. "Look, it's the dumb fool," Samuel sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "What's the matter? Too rich to talk?" "Yeah, maybe he thinks he's too good for us," Phillip added, shoving Axel slightly as he passed.
Axel stumbled but regained his balance, choosing to ignore the taunts. He had learned long ago that responding only made things worse. Days turned into weeks, and the bullying continued. Samuel and Phillip would push him around during recess, calling him names like "rich idiot" and "mute loser." Axel kept his head down, his heart heavy, but he found solace in his sketches and writing formulas. They were his escape, a world where he was in control, far removed from the cruelty of his peers.
After another round of torment from his classmates, Axel sat alone at lunch, drawing in his sketchbook. He was lost in his own world when a voice interrupted his thoughts. "Why do you always sit here by yourself?" It was Mr. Patterson, one of the teachers who had just started at the school. Axel looked up, surprised. He had expected the usual ridicule, not a question that showed genuine interest. He shrugged, unsure how to respond. "Do you like drawing?" Mr. Patterson asked, glancing at the sketches scattered across the table. With a nod, Axel opened his sketchbook to reveal a detailed illustration of a very complex mathematical formular illustrating physics, chemistry, biology, and even complex diagrams that Mr. Patterson could not understand. Mr. Patterson was fascinated. His eyes widened in disbelief.
"Axel, where did you learn this?" Mr. Patterson asked quietly. Axel smiled but did not speak. He remembered the taunts of Samuel and Phillip. "They say I'm dumb," he wrote on a piece of paper, thrusting it toward Mr. Patterson. "Dumb? You're anything but dumb," Mr. Patterson replied, his voice firm yet kind. "You have a high intellectual ability, Axel. Your diagrams show that." Axel nodded slowly, and his next written response stunned Mr. Patterson, "I know, I really shouldn't be in this school, it is a waste of my time." Mr. Patterson read Axel's response and did not know what to say. "Fascinating" was the only word he could utter.
As midterm exams approached, Axel immersed himself in new diagrams, and equations. Samule laughed at him, yelling out to the class, "This dumb ass is still scribbling nonsense."
On the day of the exam, Axel submitted his report, within minutes. The class erupted in laughter. "I bet he just drew a smiley face." Phillip yelled out to the class. The day after the results were posted, whispers filled the hallways. Axel scored excellently in every subject. Teachers were astonished. "How is this possible?" one muttered. "He never speaks!" Samuel and Phillip were seething, unable to comprehend how the boy they had bullied could outperform them. "This is a lie!" Phillip exclaimed, his face contorted with anger. "It's just because he is a rich idiot! This result can't be true!"
Mr. Patterson called Axel into his office after school. "Axel, I would like to be your mentor, I cannot take you out of school since your psychologist and pediatrician insist you remain here with other kids, but you are welcome to come to my office anytime to work on your formulas and drawings." Axel nodded, but still did not speak.
In his mansion library, Axel sat alone in his room, surrounded by stacks of books that reached toward the ceiling. At just eleven years old, he had read more than most adults would in a lifetime. To the world, he was just a quiet boy who didn't speak much. But in his mind, a storm of thoughts and memories swirled, each one as vivid as the day it happened.
His eidetic memory allowed him to recall every detail of his life, from the moment he took his first breath to the heart-wrenching memories of his parents. He could see their faces as clearly as if they stood before him. His mother's gentle smile and his father's proud gaze flickered in his mind like a well-worn film. Axel could even remember the day they were taken from him, a cruel twist of fate that had forever altered his existence. "Why did you have to leave me?" he thought to himself. No one could hear his pain, not even his kind nannies and butlers.
The truth about his extraordinary abilities lay hidden beneath layers of grief and determination. Axel knew that before his conception, his father had developed a genius formula, a complex concoction that he had injected into his mother weekly, while she was pregnant. This formula had allowed Axel to understand language while still in the womb. It was a secret that died with his parents, leaving him with a gift that felt more like a curse.
By the time he turned one, Axel was reading. He could recall the names of every visitor who had walked through the door of his home, the days they visited, and the kind words they offered. But he also remembered the cruel taunts of his peers, "Dumb brat," one kid had said, pushing him aside on the playground. "What do you know?" Axel had simply stared, absorbing the words like a sponge, not letting them penetrate the walls he had built around his heart.
He had always known he was different, but it was in the pages of his books that he found solace. The written words were a refuge where he could explore worlds beyond his own, a place where he could dream without boundaries.
He found a book on genetic engineering, in the mansion library, a realization hit him like a bolt of lightning. His father had been working on a complex formula that was never finished. Axel felt strange, it as if his father was calling on him to finish the project.