Mutants|| Reddie [DISCONTINUED]

VI

"Make mistakes, learn from them, and when life hurts you- because it will- remember the hurt. Hurt is good. It means you're out of that cave."

Bill cautiously opened the front door. "Dad, I'm home!" he called- though this was purely out of habit. By this time, he was perfectly aware that his father was not going to respond.

He walked through the living room, only glancing at his father for a second before walking upstairs, a sour taste in his mouth.

For nearly three years, his dad had merely sat in that chair, getting up only to eat or sleep. He had grown thin and sickly and Bill was forced to find his own way of getting food (which mainly consisted of stealing). The school lunches helped, but they did not change the fact that his ribs were far too prominent for a boy his age.

He was able to hide the conditions he lived in from everyone- even his only friend, Stanley Uris. If Stan knew, he would definitely try to help- which was exactly why Bill didn't tell him. The more people that knew, the more of a risk there was that the people Bill didn't want to know would find out.

Bill used to live happily with his entire family- his dad, his mom, and his little brother, Georgie.

But one day (nearly three years ago), he had come home from school to find them gone. No Mom. No Georgie. No note or clue explaining their disappearance. And Dad was just sitting there, staring at the wall.

It didn't take a genius to deduce what had happened. From Georgie's brith, it had been clear that he was a mutant. Although mutant powers didn't manifest until they were around 11 years old, they were sometimes born with a physical abnormality.

Georgie's eyes were an unnatural, icy blue, with frost-tipped edges. They couldn't exactly hide his eyes, so they homeschooled him. But you could only hide a mutant for so long.

The government must've found Georgie and taken him, killed him, and covered it up. As for his mom- Bill didn't know. Maybe she'd just gotten in the way. All he did know was that they were gone, and he couldn't rely on his father anymore.

Then, a few weeks later, his power manifested.

Bill discovered that he could move things with his mind- telekinesis, he heard it was called. Pretty useful when he needed to snag a few things from the store.

And even then, years later, he still had nightmares analyzing any way Georgie could've died, and the only thing that kept him going was that if the government caught him, they'd do the same thing.

Bill pounded up the stairs to do his homework. He opened his backpack, pulled out a history worksheet, and was just about to begin when the doorbell rang.

He stiffened, his fingers frozen on the pen in his hand. Slowly, he stood up and moved towards the window.

Peeking around the curtains, he froze in horror. Several official-looking vans were parked right outside of his house, and people who clearly worked for the government were standing at his door.

He raced to another window that overlooked the backyard, but an equal number of officials were standing there too.

Shit shit shit shit shit-

Bill hesitated, torn between hiding or fighting. Then, with a fresh wave of terror, he remembered someone. Crap- Dad!

His father was still downstairs, visible and vulnerable. Was there time to get him to safety? Would he be able to, even if there was?

Taking a deep breath, Bill made up his mind. He couldn't just leave him there.

He crept towards the staircase and began to descend down them when two deafening crashes reverberated from downstairs. Thundering footsteps sounded from below, and Bill realized that the government people must've broken in.

But he realized it a second too late- as he hurriedly backed upstairs, a woman wearing heavy protective gear spotted him from the bottom of the stairs.

"Over here!" she yelled, motioning to unseen people from the sides. "Upstairs!"

Panicking, Bill sprinted to a room and slammed the door. It wasn't until he locked it that he realized where he was.

Georgie's room.

Bill backed up to the window, fumbling for the opening. He watched numbly as what seemed like a million hands pounded on the door. Fingers shaking, he lifted his hand and, with a wince, lifted up five books.

The books shook in the air, pages rustling. The thumping on the door intensified until, finally, the door burst from its hinges, clattering to the floor.

As officers poured in, Bill thrust his hand forward, and the books shot towards them. They knocked them straight in their heads, and the people in the front collapsed, unconscious.

The next wave thundered in, and, raising his hand in one fluid movement, Bill lifted the fallen officers' guns and twitched his fingers, holding the triggers.

He screwed up his face at the deafening bangs of gunfire, holding the trigger until finally, the click of the guns indicated that he'd run out of ammo.

As the smoke cleared, Bill let the guns clatter to the floor. He was trembling all over as he stared, transfixed with horror, at the bodies in front of him.

He had killed seven people. Seven people. Maybe they were right. Maybe mutants like him were dangerous.

Bill's eyes fell on an object tucked away on the dresser. It was an old photograph of Georgie. He was wearing his old yellow rain slicker, and his top front teeth were missing.

We didn't ask for this, Bill thought suddenly. We didn't ask to be mutants, and we certainly didn't ask to be hunted down because of it. Georgie didn't do anything to them, and they killed him anyway. He was six. HE WAS SIX.

Face taught with resolution, Bill stepped cautiously over the bodies, through the hallway, and down the stairs. He walked past the couch and the now-empty chair where his dad had always sat. He moved through the door and onto the sidewalk.

He briefly toyed with the idea of going to Stan's house, but disregarded it quickly. He couldn't let anyone get hurt because of him. Not again.

He was on his own.