He's Just a Kid

Just a Feeling

My heart was still pounding from the bus as I walked around my house toward the grill. I couldn't believe it. I gave her the note.

My dad was going to kill me once he checked the footage.

Something in my gut twisted at the thought. I still found it disgusting that he installed a camera in my eyeball. It made me sick that he would do that to someone, let alone his own son. But what was done couldn't be undone. I mean, how was I supposed to yank a camera that small out of my eye?

That was just one thought that was running through my head as I entered the underground lab. The other was one that had blue eyes, glasses, long blond hair, and a smile that could light up a whole room.

"Marcus, stop daydreaming and get over here."

I shook myself and tried to refocus. "Sorry."

Dad was glaring at me from across the room, the lighting bouncing off of his face in a menacing way that made me a tad uncomfortable. It left half of his face in light and half of it in shadow. I wasn't sure whether it was intentional or not, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was. Both he and Mr. Davenport are drama queens. It gets on my nerves. It's like they're both having a contest for who can be prettier/more impressive.

He folded his arms and plopped down in the leather swivel chair behind the desk, looking intently into my eyes. "When was the last time you stepped into your capsule?" he asked me. "You look exhausted."

I fought back a yawn. "Why does it matter?"

"The footage from the camera was blurry."

I sighed. Of course. Why else would he care if I was tired or not? My father wasn't one to care about such things. I could pass out on the floor with a seizure and he would tell me to walk it off, that I had work to do. Rest wasn't an option unless it was necessary for the productiveness of our missions.

I clenched my jaw to keep a retort behind my teeth. "I'm sorry. I haven't been to my capsule yet, but I will." I started to walk off, but he stopped me.

"Not until you explain to me what was going on with you and Abby on the bus."

I froze and looked at him from over my shoulder. "Why?"

"Why do you keep asking 'why'?" my dad spat. He stood up from his chair and walked over to me, purpose in his stride and a hardness in his eyes I couldn't explain. He looked me up and down. "She's distracting you, Marcus. This needs to stop."

I scoffed. "Says you. Nothing's wrong with this, and she's not distracting me. We're just friends."

"'Don't be late, Goldilocks'?"

A shiver ran down my spine. I didn't think the camera had audio too. How much was he hearing about what went on between me and Abby?

"You need to let her go," he continued, turning back around and walking slowly back to his desk. "If you don't, I'll let her go for you."

A hot feeling ran through my body. And it wasn't the hot feeling I got when I was around Abby. This one was desperate, intense, fiery and fierce. I rushed at my dad, my eyes flaring with my green heat vision. I grabbed his shoulders and spun him around to look at me, gripping the collar of his shirt tightly.

"You're not going to hurt her." The fierceness in my voice surprised me. It was like a cornered animal using its final defense. I didn't know why I had done this. I never even thought about doing this to my dad, mostly because I knew he could take everything away from me and I would be powerless to do anything. I would be forced to watch.

"You're not going to hurt her," I repeated, my voice softening a bit and my heat vision relaxing as I realized what I was doing. "Please don't hurt her. Please, Dad."

The feeling of my father's big hand on my shoulder made me go rigid. He'd never done anything like that before in my life. What was he doing? Not only did his gesture confuse me, but the emotion in his eyes as well. I couldn't place it. I had never seen it before. It wasn't like him at all.

Suddenly, pain like fire collided with my jaw and I found myself reeling backward, almost falling to the cold concrete floor. My mind was reeling, my vision dazed. Did he just . . . ?

"You just hit me!" I exclaimed, my hand massaging my aching jaw.

"I had a good reason to!" Dad spat at me, the familiar venom and cockiness back in his gaze. He stormed over to me, jabbing a finger in my face. "Do you know what you did?"

I shook my head slightly, my eyes wide.

"You started caring, Marcus. How many times have I told you not to care about people that don't matter to our missions? Sure, I'll admit, Abby's got some bionics too, but she's not our priority. Not one bit." He stormed back over to the desk and hit a button hard. My capsule whirred to life behind me. "You need to stop caring about her. And when you wake up, I better see a difference in your attitude toward her or I will be removing her from the equation myself."

My stomach dropped. Surely he doesn't mean . . . I refused to finish that thought. I couldn't finish that thought. If I did, I wouldn't be able to recover from it.

I started to shakily walk up the steps to my capsule, but again my Dad stopped me.

"Marcus."

I turned to look at him. His eyes were boring into mine, reading every ounce of my soul. It was moments like these when I was really, genuinely afraid of my dad. My jaw still ached.

"I mean it," my dad finished. It wasn't a suggestion, it wasn't a threat. It was final.

My body didn't feel like my own when I walked into the capsule and closed the door behind me. I felt like a fish out of water, a cat unable to swim dropped in the middle of a lake and forced to fight its way back to shore before it drowned.

It's just a feeling, I told myself as my breathing became ragged, the anchor for my chip connecting with my neck with a sharp click. It's just a feeling. This will pass and she'll be okay.

But somewhere in the back of my mind, something else was screaming these words at me:

You can't keep her safe from him.