Unstoppable: Revitalized

-16-

So, I'm back here. Wherever 'here' is. Maybe this is heaven? No, no, this would be hell. It would definitely be hell. I don't deserve to go to heaven, not after what I've- Oh, oh god. I- I just killed someone! As in, actually killed them. What- how did it get to- oh my god, I think I'm gonna be sick. Jesus, what's wrong with me? How did this happen? Why did this happen? Why did Nusanda freak out? Why did Callum kill me? Why? Why me? WHY ME? I just set off an explosion in a school. An explosion. Surely someone died. Surely someone heard it. Surely. Something must've happened. Callum opened the door, so the door must still be intact. It has to be. Maybe it was a small one? No, that would surely still damage... I- I'm so confused. None of this makes sense.

The blanket of darkness glowed slightly, generating an almost uncomfortable heat to look at, but not feel. Cool air seemed to breeze against me as I continued to float in the nothingness, lost in myself

I must be dead. I have to be. The other times must've been close calls, or hallucinations, or something. Someone drugged my food to mess with me. They have to have done, there's no other way. Come on Adam, snap out of it. Wake up. Wake up.

The blanket began to shift to a grey, thinning and turning the air cold. Chills seemed to run against my body as the grey shifted violently to a blinding white as I closed my eyes, subconsciously begging for death.

However, I found no relief.

As I opened my eyes, I felt the comfortable warmth of my sheets around my body as I rolled over, checking the numbers that hung in the air: Four twenty-four AM.

The day isn't even over yet?

Just like before, I felt extremely weak and unstable. It felt as if my body was being held together with some form of crappy tape. I went to get up, swinging my legs around, before a huge wave of nausea crashed into me, forcing me back down as I held back the urge to vomit profusely. Realising speed wasn't the way forward, I took my time standing, leaning on the wall for support as I opened the door, still leaning heavily on the wall as a crutch. Fighting with swimming vision, I took the steps gingerly, my sickness stabilising once I got to the bottom. Passing a mirror in the hallway, I caught a look at myself, and realised that today was indeed real: I had remnants of my school clothes on, tattered rags that resembled school trousers, half of my shirt, hanging on by a thread, and my shoes were still in one piece, but really burnt. I sighed, looking at my body and noticing that I had no marks on me. I headed back upstairs, stripped, and walked into the bathroom, seeing no change. Even my hair was the same length. However, one thing was different. I had a fractured line across my chest, just where Poppy put her sword through me. It was a small scar, one I could probably lie about just being a birthmark, but it caused me to flash back to it all, leaning into the sink and finally throwing up. I spent a while there, holding myself weakly against the cold ceramic, trying to stable myself enough to feel human.

God, I am an awful person. I didn't try to knock the sword out of her hands, nor did I try to run, I fought and killed her. Her skin was crispy. She's dead. She has to be.

Finally finding some calm, I stepped away, cleaning the sink before moving towards my room and changing into something to hide my body: Cargos and a baggy shirt. Taking some more deep breaths, I began heading downstairs, turning into my kitchen, my head so deep in thought I didn't notice Callum spreading cheese over a fresh dish. Unsurprisingly, we both jumped.

"Good to see you alive." He caught himself fast, staring me up and down like I was disgusting to be in a room with.

"No thanks to you." I shot back bitterly, staying a decent distance away from him, keeping my eyes on his hands.

"You beat a pupil to near death, nearly caused a riot, ran into one of The Boss' side operations, blew it up, and expect me to not do something about it?" Menace now fronted the conversation as we both balled our hands, each person seeming to watch the other for the first move.

"It was that, or that room again. I'd rather blow something up than-"

"Oh, you didn't damage the school. You really think The Boss didn't proof the room? Sound-proof, resistant to sudden heat, shock resistant, you name it. He put a lot of time and money into the room and Poppy, both of which aren't useful anymore." Callum's bluntness never failed to surprise me, even now, after what had happened, I couldn't help but smirk.

"Something funny?"

"Yeah, you. You amaze me. You kill me, but I fight back, and I'm the problem? I run from you, and I'm the issue? Put yourself in my shoes Callum, you'd run too, especially if you were chasing. You'd be terrified. And now, your in my house. Again. How did you get here? Matter of fact, how did I get here?"

Callum went to say something, but the oven dinged, cutting him off as he sighed loudly, gesturing to the table.

"Sit, Adam." His command set off a rebellious streak in me, as if I needed to prove something to him and myself.

"I'm not-"

"Sit, or I will break your ankles, drag you back to school, and stick so many pencils under your skin you'd scream for death."

He bent down, pulling out a dish of cooked chicken to display. Realising how useless this argument would be, I took a seat, Callum putting two plates on the table, letting me think for a moment before gesturing.

"Eat. It'll get cold."