Destined to be

Chapter 2: What is this feeling?

In the weeks following Ben's decision to finally let go of the weight he'd been carrying, he felt his world sharpen, like everything was coming into focus for the first time. That dark, quiet fire inside him had grown, and he was beginning to enjoy it. The idea that he could make the people around him feel his pain had become almost addictive. It was no longer about just making them feel small-it was about reclaiming the pieces of himself he'd buried, one small act at a time.

One cold evening, while he was walking home from work, he spotted a familiar face across the street. He froze, the rest of the world seeming to fade into the background. Ryan Thompson. His old bully from school, the kid who had made his life a living hell for years. The memories came rushing back-Ryan's cruel laugh, the twisted smile as he'd shoved Ben against lockers, the nights when Ben had gone home with bruises on his ribs and scratches on his arms. Ryan had been a master at making him feel like less than nothing, both physically and mentally.

Back then, Ben hadn't been able to fight back. He'd been a skinny, quiet kid with no one to defend him, and Ryan had known it. One day, when Ben was thirteen, Ryan cornered him in the locker room after gym class. He'd punched him in the stomach so hard that Ben thought he'd cracked a rib. But that wasn't enough for Ryan- he'd pulled a pocketknife from his bag, sneering as he held it up to Ben's face. "You're worthless, you know that?" he'd said, cutting a thin line across Ben's arm. Ben could still remember the sting, the shock, the blood dripping down his arm as Ryan laughed and walked away, leaving him in the corner, shaking.

But that was years ago. Ben wasn't a scared kid anymore, and tonight, he wasn't going to let Ryan just walk away.

He crossed the street, his heart pounding as he approached Ryan, who was busy talking to someone, oblivious to Ben's presence. When Ben finally stopped in front of him, Ryan glanced up, his expression shifting from indifference to surprise, then to a faint sneer.

"Well, well, if it isn't Benny boy," Ryan said, crossing his arms. "Long time no see."

Ben forced a smile, feeling that dark, electric surge in his veins. "Yeah, been a while. How've you been?"

Ryan shrugged, clearly not interested in a real conversation. "Doing fine, man. Looks like you haven't changed a bit, though. Still that same little loser from high school, huh?"

Something in Ben napped. The anger he'd been holding back for years came flooding to the surface, and he stepped forward, his voice low. "No, Ryan. I'm not the same kid you used to push around."

Ryan scoffed, clearly amused, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. Ben didn't give him a chance to reply. Without another word, he lunged forward, grabbing Ryan by the collar and shoving him back into the dark alleyway behind them. Ryan tried to fight back, but Ben's grip was strong, fueled by years of pent-up rage.

The next moments felt like a blur, a dark haze where all Ben could feel was the satisfaction of finally being the one in control. He slammed Ryan against the wall, his fists flying, each punch releasing a piece of the pain he'd been carrying for so long. Ryan's face twisted in fear, but Ben didn't stop. He didn't care about the consequences, didn't care who saw.

By the time he stepped back, breathing heavily, Ryan was slumped against the wall, his face bloody and unrecognizable. Ben watched him, feeling a strange calm settle over him. For the first time, he'd been the one to make someone else feel powerless, the one who held all the cards.

As he caught his breath, he noticed something poking out of Ryan's pocket-a small bag of pills, mixed with something else he couldn't quite identify. Ben grabbed it, looking down at the assortment of drugs. For a second, he thought about tossing it, but then an idea crept into his mind. He slipped the bag into his own pocket, feeling a strange thrill.

That night, back in his apartment, he poured the pills into his hand, examining each one. He didn't know much about drugs but in that moment, he didn't care. His whole life, he'd been careful, kind, always putting everyone else first. Maybe it was time he did something reckless, something for himself.

He swallowed one of the pills, leaning back as he felt it start to take effect, a slow, numbing warmth spreading through his body. For the first time, he felt free-like nothing else mattered. All the pain, the memories, the darkness-it all melted away, leaving him with a quiet, detached calm.

As he sat there, staring at the ceiling, he realized that he didn't feel guilty. Not about the drugs, not about Ryan, not about anything. In fact, he felt... powerful. He was no longer the quiet, invisible man everyone could use and ignore. He was becoming something else entirely-someone who could finally take what wanted, without remorse, without hesitation...

And he liked it.