The morning after, Evan woke up to a strange sensation crawling through his veins. It wasn't painful — more like a tingling hum, a reminder that something inside him had changed.
The world outside looked the same. His cracked ceiling still leaked drops when it rained. The smell of cigarette smoke from his father's room still clung to the air. The street was still lined with broken fences and abandoned hopes.
But Evan was different. He could feel it.
He dragged himself out of bed, rubbing his gritty eyes. As he reached for his worn-out backpack, something caught his attention. His old cracked mirror — the one he avoided looking into — shimmered briefly, distorting his reflection.
He moved closer, heart thudding.
For a second — just a second — he didn't see the beaten-down boy he knew so well. Instead, he saw... strength. A sharper glint in his eyes. A faint outline of something powerful, almost like a second version of himself layered beneath the surface.
Then it was gone.
Just my imagination, he thought. Maybe I'm losing it.
He stuffed his few belongings into his bag and headed for school. His stomach twisted the way it always did when he thought about walking those halls. About the sneers, the shoves, the whispered insults.
Today would be no different. Or so he thought.
---
At Crestwood High, Evan's arrival usually passed unnoticed except by the ones who found amusement in his misery. Sure enough, as he entered the courtyard, he heard the familiar sound of snickering.
"Hey, look who's here," sneered Marcus, the biggest and meanest of his tormentors. Tall, muscular, with a permanent smirk plastered across his face. "Little Evan, still pretending he matters."
A crowd gathered. It always did.
Evan's heart pounded. His fingers itched — not with fear, but with something new. Something... electric.
Marcus shoved him roughly, laughing. "Still weak, huh?"
Evan stumbled back, but this time he didn't fall. His body stayed upright, steady as a tree against the wind.
Marcus frowned. "What's wrong, loser? Cat got your—"
Before Marcus could finish, Evan's hand moved — fast, too fast for thought — and caught Marcus's wrist mid-air.
Gasps erupted around them.
Evan stared down at his hand in disbelief. His grip was iron, unshakable. Marcus's cocky expression cracked into one of shock.
"Let go, freak!" Marcus snarled, trying to yank free.
But Evan didn't budge. He released him only after a long, deliberate moment. Marcus stumbled back, clutching his arm.
The crowd fell silent.
Evan felt it then — a shift. Small, but real. Like a ripple through still water. Something inside him had awakened.
He didn't know if it was the device or something else, but for the first time in his life, Evan wasn't powerless.
He turned without a word and walked away, leaving behind stunned faces and whispers that would soon turn into rumors.
As he walked, he felt the device — now tucked safely against his chest under his shirt — hum softly, like it was proud.
This is just the beginning, Evan realized.
And deep down, a small, dangerous smile flickered across his face.
---