Lutelementis

Chapter One

Sebastian

My feet pounded the pavement. My breath came in ragged gasps and blood trickled down my face. It leaked into my mouth and I gagged, spitting out bloody saliva. I heard the jerks shouting behind me. I couldn't stop, couldn't turn around and face my demons. I tried to keep myself from sobbing.

"Damn it, you coward!" I heard one of them shout.

"Where the hell do you think you're going, son?" Another goon yelled. I heard their stupid motorcycles revving and bit back a cuss word. I turned into a corner, tripped over a trash can, scraped my knees and palms, and sprawled into... a dead end. The motorcycling imbeciles turned into the alleyway. I swore under my breath.

"Kid, you're dead!" Jason Butkinns screamed at me. Immediately, three goons cornered me, two grabbing my arms, one grabbing my curly black hair. I whimpered weakly. My nose ached, still pouring blood.

"P-please..." I moaned, clutching my most-likely bruised ribs. Goon Number One punched me in the stomach. I collapsed to my knees, wheezing like an asthmatic turtle. Goon Numbers Two, Three, and Four started beating me, landing blows all over my body. I hated myself for it, but I yelped many times. Finally, Butkinns called them off. He grabbed my hair and tilted my head back.

"You wanna insult me again, punk?" I shook my head weakly, tears pouring down my cheeks, blood pouring down my face onto the asphalt. Jason smirked. "Finish him off," He told his idiots. With hungry smirks on their faces, they closed in.

Suddenly, burning white took over my vision. The strange, flame-like birthmark on my wrist felt like it was being stabbed by a knife. My limbs were filled with a fiery burning. Crap! I thought. Not again. Please, not again. The last time this had happened, I burned down all of our balcony furniture. My dad flipped out, I had a black eye for a month after that. The goons stopped, a confused look coming over them. I trembled but stood tall. Out of nowhere came a flash of fire and they all screamed, jumping onto their bikes and got out of the alley as fast as possible. I fell to my knees, staring at my flame-shaped birthmark, absolutely horrified. My legs shook so violently I almost couldn't get to my feet. I wiped away my tears and began walking one foot, then the next.

🜂🜂🜂

I dragged myself down the sidewalk. I rubbed at the blood on my face. I wasn't sure what street I was walking down, but I started recognizing landmarks. Rockin' Rudy's, then the M, then the library. I found a gas station, ExxonMobil to be exact and pulled myself inside. Inside was dingy and most of the lights flickered. The dude at the counter stared at me. I straightened my back and stood at five feet, ten inches. I kept my head down and stayed quiet. I grabbed two bags of gummy worms, one sour, one not, for my best friend Tami and me.

I approached the cashier. He was a thirtyish man, edgy looking, with an odd tattoo, made up of the four elements. Each one was hyper-realistic, and I could have sworn I saw the water rippling. Just his muscles... I told myself. Thick, bushy red hair decorated his head and face. His tag read Braxton. His arms were extremely muscled.

"Oh my God," The cashier said, studying my battered face. "Kid, are you okay?" I nodded. He pointed down a hallway. "There's a restroom there if you wanna freshen up," I nodded again.

"Thanks," I whispered, my voice almost gone. I handed him some cash and he counted it out. He handed half of it back to me. "Sorry?" I asked. I noticed a red haired woman in a red leather jacket grabbing a bag of chips.

"You look really rough kid," He smiled. "I'm just tryin' to help you out." He came out from behind the register. He put a rough but gentle hand on my shoulder and led me to the bathroom. I went in and attempted to clean myself up.

I emerged and found Braxton back at the register. "Was it Butkinns and his gang?" I was taken aback.

"Yeah, how'd you know?" He looked grim. "They roughed up my son," He explained. "Watch out for them, son. What's your name, kid?"

I swallowed. "Sebastian Orlando,"

"Braxton O'Neill," He shook my hand. "Well, kid, you should get to wherever it is you're going." I thanked him as gratefully as possible. I left, feeling better, despite the stabbing headache I felt behind my eyes. I knew I couldn't go home. If my father saw me like this, I'd probably leave in worse shape than when I got there. I forced myself to keep moving, all the way to Tami's apartment.

The sun started to sink, casting golden rays. I practically crawled up the stairs. I got to apartment 22a. I hardly had the strength to raise my hand to knock. A second later, pretty brown eyes and shiny caramel hair met my eyes.

"Tam..." I mumbled, reaching out. She squeaked and ran under my arms. I leaned on her, sighing. She struggled to support me because I was about eight inches taller than her. She rested her hand on my chest and led me inside.

"Bash..." She touched my face and tilted it to the side to see my black eye.

"Hey," I said weakly, fighting back tears.

"What happened to you, you idiot?!"

" I... insulted some seniors..." She hissed something angrily in Spanish. I heard her mom gasp in the kitchen.

"Tamika Shaw!" She spat angrily. "If I ever hear that word come out of your mouth again-" As she entered the room, she seemed to get bigger, as if she were a toad who was slowly swelling. She noticed me suddenly. "Oi vey..." She rushed to me. "Sebastian Orlando! What in the world happened to you, sweetie?" She gushed, repeating the same moves Tami had made seconds before. She led me to the bathroom. Tami supported me.

"Tam, you help Sebastian, I'll go get a plate ready for him. We're having lasagna, is that alright, dear?" I nodded then shook my head. With several siblings and her parents, Tam's family had a hard time paying for food without me added to the equation.

"I'm sorry... I don't need dinner, I was-"

She cut me off. "No, honey. You need a warm meal. It's the least we can do," She hustled out. Tami glared at me as she grabbed bandages and antiseptic sprays.

"I'm sorry, Tami. I... I just didn't want to go home," I hung my head. She poured hydrogen peroxide onto a cotton ball. She lifted my face and gently dabbed it on. I winced at the sting.

She rolled her eyes. "You're an idiot." At that minute, I knew she cared. I leaned back and let her finish her work.