Diamondback

11: The Answer To My Prayers

It didn't work last night.

I thought that if I used my own magic, it would work.

But it didn't.

And I'm still here.

Peachy. Just fucking peachy.

Chewy had watched the whole time. I must've looked so stupid in his plastic eyes. Stupid and desperate. I'm surprised he didn't laugh. Maybe he didn't want to add insult to injury.

As I laid sprawled out on my bedroom floor, the popcorn ceiling glowered down at me with a mind of its own. Bland and beige and angry. And it was...shaking? That can't just be my imagination, right?

BOOM!

BOOM!

BOOM!

What the fuck is it this time?

I stormed my way over to the source of the pounding against my house only to be met with nothing but seething anger. From outside my window, I could see three idiots roughing up their classmate that I couldn't get quite a good look at. They forcibly slammed their classmate's body against my wall repeatedly and took turns punching whatever they could.

Jesus Christ.

If you're gonna do that, please take it anywhere but here.

"Look at him!" Idiot #1 cackled. "He's crying! Ha ha! Look at the little bitch boy cry!"

"I-I'm not fucking crying! Get off of me!"

BOOM!

Another rattle against my already broken home. Somebody's gotta do something about this. For the house's sake, I mean.

As I lifted my hand, the cold black light of my magic transferred from myself to the three idiots outside. If my magic couldn't work on myself, maybe it'll work on them. The light swirled around their throats, then squeezed. Hard. All of their bodies tensed, choking and coughing and scratching away at their own necks. If I just squeeze harder, if I just ball up my fist tighter, I could-

The classmate they had been assaulting pulled himself to his feet.

Oliver?

My concentration fizzed as did the magic chokehold on the bullies. Before I could regain my grip, they were already running back down into the forest.

"I told you! I told you we shouldn't have messed with that psycho!" one of them screamed as they disappeared.

"Fuckin' hell," Oliver heaved, clutching his bloodied, tear stained face in his thin hands. "Goddammit, Oliver. Goddammit."

Speakin' of hell, what the hell was he wearing? His top half was hardly covered by a tight leotard that clung onto his slender body. The gray sweatpants he wore looked a little big on him. As I squinted closer, I swear I could see Toni's name written on the side. His long hair was tied back into a low ponytail with a big blue bow. Hanging around his neck were a pair of pristine looking ballet slippers.

But he looked miserable. And pitiful. I know Eliza said that any form of me reaching out to someone who isn't my human contact could result in me going absolutely ballistic, but I couldn't just leave him like that. We used to be friends, right? Or something like that in the past. Really, I can't quite remember, but I think he was nice to me...maybe. Past Me would've wanted to help him, so I should.

Oliver was back down on the grass again with his knees hugged up to his chest.

What do I say to him? "Hi?" "You're welcome?" "Sorry?" "Thanks for stopping by, please get away from my house now?" How did we even talk to each other back then? Matter of fact, why can't I remember anything about him?