By the time the first light came through the window, I'd already been awake for a while.
Still—
I didn't get up.
I just lay there. staring at the ceiling, trying to pin everything back into place.
The fight.
The hallway.
Kellan on the ground.
And then the thing after that… the moment where everything felt like it bent around me instead of happening to me.
I exhaled slowly.
Noah, I thought, people don't have telekinetic powers.
They don't stop things by thinking about it.
They don't make reality react.
That part mattered. I held onto it a little too tightly.
Because the alternative didn't make sense.
And if it didn't make sense, then it wasn't real.
Simple.
Probably concussion, I told myself.
Maybe I hit my head harder than I realized during the fight. Maybe stress filled in the gaps afterward. The brain does that. It makes patterns out of noise. It lies when it has to.
That explanation should've settled it.
It didn't.
Still, I got up anyway.
I stood outside the bathroom.
One hand resting against the frame.
Listening.
The water had been running for too long again.
Inside, footsteps shifted. A small argument started mid-morning like it had been waiting for me.
"Mom, Noah is bothering me!"
Jacob.
Of course.
"I'm serious," I called through the door. "Hurry up."
A pause.
Then my mom's voice from downstairs, sharp and half-distracted—
"I swear to Jacob, Noah, if you don't get out of that bathroom in three seconds you will not hear the end of it!"
I closed my eyes briefly.
Of course.
The water kept running.
Steady.
Unbothered.
Like it had nowhere better to be.
I checked my phone.
Thirty minutes.
I leaned back against the wall and exhaled through my nose.
It's nothing, I told myself.
Just a morning. Just a bathroom. Just noise.
Nothing weird.
Nothing else.
When the door finally opened, Jacob brushed past me like I wasn't even there.
"Finally," I said under my breath, stepping inside.
Steam still clung to the mirror.
I wiped it away.
My reflection returned slowly, like it wasn't sure it wanted to.
Same face.
Same eyes.
Same everything.
Normal.
I should've stopped there.
But my gaze dropped anyway.
To my hand.
The mark was still there.
Clean. Thin. Unmoving.
I stared at it longer than I meant to.
Then flexed my fingers once, like that might prove something.
Nothing changed.
"It's not real," I muttered again.
But it didn't sound like certainty anymore.
It sounded like repetition.
Like if I said it enough times, it would eventually become true.
By the time I left the bathroom, the house was already awake.
My mom was at the door, keys in hand, jacket half on.
"I'm going to be late today," she said. "Pick up groceries on your way back."
"Okay."
She paused, then looked at me properly.
Her eyes dropped.
"What's that on your hand?"
Too quick.
I pulled my sleeve down before she could see it clearly.
"It's nothing."
She frowned slightly, like she didn't believe me but didn't have time to argue with it.
"Alright," she said. "Just don't start acting strange."
"I'm not."
But she was already turning away.
Outside, Adrian was waiting.
"You take forever," he said.
"Bathroom issue," I replied.
He smirked. "Yeah, I heard Jacob screaming through half the street once."
I sighed. "Great."
We started walking.
The morning air felt normal.
That was the problem.
Everything was normal.
Too normal.
Like nothing had ever bent out of shape yesterday.
School looked the same when we arrived.
Same gates. Same noise. Same movement.
But people looked at me differently now.
Not openly.
Just… longer.
Like I was a question they didn't have an answer to yet.
Adrian noticed.
"You've got that 'something happened' energy," he said.
"That's not a thing."
"It is now."
I didn't respond.
Because I didn't know what part of me was supposed to answer that.
Kellan was at the lockers again.
And I almost walked past him without really seeing him.
That was the first strange thing.
Because yesterday—he would've stood out.
Today, he didn't.
Not because he was normal.
Because he looked worse.
His body leaned slightly forward like standing upright cost him effort.
His skin had lost something. Not just color—weight. Like he was slowly becoming less anchored to himself.
One of his friends nudged him.
"You good, bro?"
Kellan blinked slowly.
"…Yeah."
But the word didn't connect properly.
It felt delayed.
Like it arrived after the thought that produced it had already moved on.
And then his eyes found me.
Held.
Didn't move.
Too long.
I looked away first.
Later, at the classroom door, Gwen and I arrived at the same time.
We both stopped.
That familiar pause again.
"You—" I started.
"You go," she said immediately.
We both paused.
Then she smiled slightly, awkward.
"That was bad."
"Yeah," I admitted. "That was bad."
She stepped in beside me instead of ahead.
Not pushing.
Not avoiding.
Just there.
"You're coming to the circus, right?" she asked.
I hesitated.
Just slightly.
"…Yeah."
She nodded once, like that answer mattered more than I realized.
"Good."
Then, softer:
"I'll be there."
And she moved to her seat.
Adrian leaned in as I sat down.
"You're so hitting that, bro."
I gave him a look. "Shut up."
He grinned. "I'm just saying, I've seen worse beginnings."
I looked away.
But I didn't deny it.
That part was worse.
The lesson started.
Salem witch trials.
The teacher spoke calmly, like she was describing weather patterns instead of fear and burning accusations.
"Many were believed to have made pacts with the Devil," she said. "Contracts in exchange for power, protection, or influence."
A pause.
"Despite the name, the Salem witch trials weren't confined to Salem," she continued. "Several of the more severe accusations came from the surrounding area."
Another brief pause.
"Most historians today consider the events to be mass hysteria."
She hesitated slightly.
"Though that hasn't stopped some people from believing otherwise."
"In some cases, marks were used as evidence of such agreements."
My hand tightened slightly under the desk.
But I didn't look.
Didn't need to.
"Behavioral changes, physical anomalies, and unexplained events were often interpreted as signs of witchcraft."
The words hung longer than they should have.
Then—
Kellan spoke.
"What if they were right?"
The room went still.
Even the teacher paused.
"Kellan?" she said carefully.
He wasn't looking at her.
He was looking at me.
"What if they were right," he repeated, slower this time.
Not louder.
Just certain.
A discomfort spread through the room.
Like everyone suddenly became aware of something they weren't supposed to notice.
The teacher tried to continue.
But the lesson had already fractured.
I felt him before I saw him.
Too close.
Behind me.
"What did you do to me?"
I turned.
Kellan stood there.
Not fully stable.
Not fully standing.
But holding himself together through sheer refusal to fall apart.
"I didn't do anything," I said.
But the words felt thinner than before.
"You did."
Not angry.
Not confused.
Certain.
"I can feel it," he said.
A pause.
Then quieter:
"It's not the same anymore."
Around us, people started watching.
Not fully interfering.
Just observing the collapse of something they didn't understand.
"You're not making sense," I said.
But I didn't step away.
Not immediately.
"I didn't feel like this before," he continued. "Something changed."
His hand twitched at his side.
Like his body wasn't fully agreeing with itself.
"You did something," he said again.
And then—
he was pulled back.
A friend. A voice. A joke too loud.
"Bro, chill. You're tweaking."
Laughter followed too quickly.
The moment broke apart like it had never been whole.
He was dragged away.
And the hallway returned to itself.
But I didn't move right away.
Because something stayed behind.
Not fear.
Not certainty.
Something worse.
A crack.
Small.
Quiet.
But there.
The kind you don't notice until everything starts leaning around it.
I swallowed, my gaze dropping for just a second—
to my hand.
I hadn't looked before.
Didn't want to.
But now—
now I couldn't not.
The mark sat there, unchanged.
Like it had been waiting.
My stomach tightened.
Could I have done something?
The thought came fast.
Uninvited.
And didn't leave.
Not like before.
Not something I could just push away with a better explanation.
My mind pulled at it anyway.
Back to the hallway.
To that moment.
Kellan on the ground.
The way everything had gone… quiet.
No—
not quiet.
Focused.
Like the world had narrowed to a single point.
Him.
And me.
And that feeling—
I stiffened.
That part I hadn't let myself touch yet.
Hadn't wanted to name.
But it was there.
Clearer now.
The pull.
The pressure.
The—
hunger.
My jaw tightened.
No.
That wasn't—
That's not what that was.
But the thought didn't break this time.
It held.
Because Kellan didn't just look hurt.
He looked…
drained.
The word settled in slowly.
Too slowly.
Like it didn't belong until it suddenly did.
My chest felt tight.
And then—
another memory slipped in.
Unwanted.
Sharp.
The creature.
The way it had moved.
The way it had fed.
I blinked hard, like that alone could disconnect the two things.
It didn't.
And then—
my uncle.
His voice.
Not clear.
Not a full memory.
Just fragments.
Warnings that never fully made sense at the time.
Things I didn't take seriously.
Things I didn't want to understand.
My grip tightened slightly at my side.
"…marks were used as evidence…"
The teacher's voice echoed back in my head.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just… there.
"…contracts… power… influence…"
I exhaled slowly.
But it didn't steady anything.
For the first time—
the explanation I'd been holding onto didn't feel stronger than the alternative.
It felt weaker.
Incomplete.
And the thought that followed—
quiet.
Careful.
But impossible to ignore—
was worse than anything else.
What if I didn't imagine it?
What if—
I actually did something to him?
What if I actually did something to him?
No.
That's insane.
It had to be.