Extra's Tell-Tales

While my mind was being invaded by words I couldn't comprehend, spoken in a voice unfamiliar yet oddly resonant, my body underwent its own transformation.

It wasn't drastic. Not something grand or supernatural but it was noticeable nonetheless.

It felt like the moment a body, drained of all strength, suddenly surged with energy. Like being on the brink of collapse, only to be revived by a force beyond explanation, filling every fibre with a newfound vigour. In that fleeting moment, I felt unstoppable, as though I could bend fate itself to my will.

And with that feeling came a dangerous thought? The belief that I could stand up to Justin. That I could challenge him and not crumble.

I realize how absurdly dangerous the idea sounds but in that moment, it felt real.

However, I know better than to be blinded by fleeting sensations. Reality doesn't bend to impulse.

The last person who dared to challenge Justin was Dwayne, and he hadn't just fought Justin. He had taken on his entire crew. And only by beating every single one of them had he managed to make his point.

Well… newsflash, I'm not Dwayne.

No matter how strong I might feel at this moment, I know better than to fall for an illusion. Even if, by some miracle, I managed to take Justin and his lackeys down, what then?

Justin isn't the kind to accept defeat gracefully. One victory wouldn't end it. It would only provoke something worse.

The smartest thing to do right now is endure. Bear with it. Let it pass. And afterwards, I'll find Dwayne. I need answers. I need to know what the hell just happened to me. Only he can provide that.

The beating lasted longer than usual. Justin didn't hold back. This time, his fists carried more than just their usual malice. They carried frustration. Pent-up anger. By the time he was done, he looked satisfied.

When he finally stopped, he left me with a warning. His last, he claimed, so long as I brought him what he wanted by tomorrow.

Then, he left.

And I was alone.

Soaked in grimy floor water, exhausted, and starving.

I stayed in the restroom, waiting for my body to recover, waiting for the pain to settle into something bearable.

Once it was, I picked myself up to head outside.

Then, out of nowhere—

"I don't understand you. Do you enjoy getting beaten so much that you refuse to fight back, even when you now have the power to?"

The voice snapped me from my thoughts.

I had barely gathered the courage and willpower to open the door when I heard Dwayne's voice.

He was leaning against the wall outside the restroom, arms crossed, watching me as though he had been waiting.

His words took a second to register. And when they did, my confusion only deepened.

"...I don't understand."

Of all the things I wanted to ask him, that was the first thing that left my mouth. I had questions, so many damn questions.

Like why he had done that to me.

Why had he given me false hope?

I had been desperate for a way out, yes. But that, whatever it was, had been cruel.

Dwayne sighed. "I'm talking about earlier. Why didn't you fight back when you could?"

I stared at him, wondering if he had actually seen what happened.

If he had, he wouldn't be asking me that.

"Do you enjoy being a punching bag that much? Enough to not throw even a single punch, despite the power currently running through you?"

I clenched my fists.

What the hell was he talking about?

"Or maybe," he continued, pushing off the wall, "all you need is a push. Someone to show you what this version of you is truly capable of."

Before I could react, he stepped forward, closing the distance between us in an instant.

His hands landed on my shoulders. His eyes cold and endless like the sea, bored into mine, unrelenting.

And then, in a voice that sent something cold down my spine, he spoke.

"You've had enough. No longer will you take this lying down. Pick up your mantle. Challenge Justin to a death match. You will not stop. You will not relent. You will fight until he admits his defeat at your hands."

My breath caught in my throat.

Something was wrong.

My body stiffened.

My lips refused to move.

A strange force seized control of my limbs, cutting me off from my own thoughts.

I tried to resist, tried to scream, but I couldn't.

Instead, my right foot took a step forward.

Then my left.

And onward, I marched.

Panic surged through me, but it had no outlet. My body wasn't my own anymore. I was trapped inside, a mere passenger.

Dwayne stepped aside, watching as I walked past him, powerless to stop myself.

This isn't happening. This isn't happening.

I willed my body to stop, to resist, to do anything-

But it didn't.

It moved with purpose, with deadly intent, heading straight for my classroom.

The moment I reached the back entrance to the classroom, my head tilted, scanning the room, searching.

It took only a second to lock onto my target.

No. No, no, no!

I screamed within my own mind, thrashing against invisible chains, but my body refused to listen.

My legs carried me forward.

My arm pulled back.

And then—

BOOM!

A right hook crashed into Justin's face.

Time froze.

Justin's head snapped sideways, his body staggering from the force of the impact.

The entire classroom turned silent.

And inside my mind, trapped within a body I could no longer control, I realized something with absolute certainty.

I was screwed.

In more ways than I could count.