Bob was laying on the soft and dirty mattress. His Mother was hugging him tightly from behind.
After a few nights ago and Bob’s…”incident”...his Mother hasn’t left him home alone.
She stayed with him every minute.
She taught him everything in all of the textbooks they owned.
She had enough food to last for a while, not needing to restock for at least a few months.
The only other person who came inside was Mrs. Walters.
She would sit as they ate food, but no conversations were ever had.
Bob was staring at the window in the bedroom. The broken glass is covered with wooden boards. He could feel his Mother peacefully breathing in and out while she was sleeping.
He got free of her grasp by softly wiggling out and stepped onto the floor. He quietly went over to the window. He reached out and touched the wooden boards.
The fingertips softly pressed into the wood, feeling the dust and splinters as he moved them softly along the surface.
He could feel the splinters stab into his finger tips. He pulled his hand back and stared at the small pieces of wood sticking out of his skin, blood beginning to trickle down.
He kept staring until the splinters began to fall out, like something underneath was pushing them. They fell to the floor as the small cuts each one made quickly closed, the only blood being the blood that already flowed out onto his fingers.
Bob looked back at his Mom before he reached out and touched the wood again.
He kept rubbing his hand along it, the wood rough and uneven in places. He took a deep breath before he pulled his hand back.
He punched the wood as hard as he could.
He fell back and clutched his hand, seeing a broken mess with bones sticking out haphazardly.
Bob looked back up at the wood.
It looked unscatched, like it had been untouched.
Bob looked back at his Mother, who was moving slightly but still out asleep.
Bob looked down at his broken hand.
Without any thinking, the bones inside began to suddenly and sharply snap back into place. The flesh and blood moved around until they were where they are supposed to be. Bob kept staring as his hand was back to normal. He curled each finger one by one, able to feel them like they were brand new. He made a tight fist as he kept staring.
He got to his feet and touched the wood again.
It still felt rough and uneven, but hard and unbreakable.
Bob looked back at his Mother again before punching it as hard as he could with his other hand. His left hand shattered while the wood was left unscathed. Bob clutched his hand tightly and could feel the bones pushing hard against his skin and muscle, but he could slowly feel the bones being put back into place on their own.
His hand was back to normal as he moved it around with ease. His eyes were dry, no tears running despite the severe pain.
Bob could hear his Mom start to shift around on the mattress. Her head lifted up with her hair all over the place. She rubbed her eyes as Bob moved closer to the mattress.
“Good morning Mom.” Bob said, sounding innocent and happy.
His Mother smiled back through her messy hair.
“Morning sweetie. How’d you sleep?” She asked.
“Fine. How about you Mom?” Bob asked.
“I slept good. Out cold I guess, just so exhausted from the past few weeks.” She softly chuckled as Bob moved hair out of her face. He could see bags under her eyes almost reaching her lips.
“You can get more sleep if you need Mom. I’ll be okay.” Bob smiled.
She yawned and put her hand on his cheek.
“Are you sure?” She asked.
Bob nodded his head up and down slowly.
“Okay…wake me up when you get hungry okay?” She said.
“Of course Mom.” He said.
She slowly laid back down and quickly fell asleep, her breathing slow and deep.
Bob sat next to her for a while, looking at her peaceful but exhausted face. His smile faded into a stoic and emotionless stare before he got to his feet. He slowly made his way to the small and bare living room, the couch being the only furniture. Bob’s attention turned to the window, covered by the curtains. He could feel his brain beginning to softly throb and pulse.
The humming of the unseen fluorescent lights filled the air.
The air grew cleaner and more sterile as he kept breathing in.
The ground felt softer as he stepped.
Bob felt his body being drawn towards the windows as he walked.
His eyes began to faintly glow as he kept moving.
The curtains faded away, as the window was replaced with a large mirror. The concrete walls, floor, and ceiling were replaced with bright white walls. The ceiling was covered in fluorescent tubes that glowed brightly and hummed faintly. The dirty couch was replaced with a mostly clean white couch that blended in with the walls and floors. In the reflection, the kitchen was replaced with white shapes and items. Bob’s normal clothing were replaced with an orange jumpsuit.
Bob continued to move closer to the mirror.
“I told you.”
Bob jumped and turned around.
Standing in front of him in the bright white room was his adult self, smiling sadistically and lifting his hands up towards the ceiling. He then began to laugh and walked around the open space.
“How are you…” Bob started.
“I’m you silly. I know how this all goes. I remember how this happens. I am not real, watch.”
Bob blinked, with the adult version of himself disappearing. Bob turned around to see the adult version’s face taking up everything. He jumped back, but the adult version was now behind him and caught him.
“Our powers are…” The adult stopped himself and smirked, his teeth clean and bright white.
He then rubbed his face and began to laugh. It started subtle and soft, but very quickly grew loud and unhinged.
The adult then stared at his younger self before quickly stopping.
“Our powers are a curse. They drive us mad.” The adult said as he started to laugh again.
Bob just stared with fear in his eyes as he watched his older self slowly start to lose control.
The adult went over to the mirror and put his hand on the mirror.
“Through here…is the real world. You have to escape…or else our mission can not be completed.” The adult said with a sinister smile, but his emotions were quickly changing over and over, his face unable to stay still.
“What is our mission?” Bob asked.
Before the adult could respond, the fluorescent light tubes suddenly went out, clouding the room in pure darkness. They quickly flashed back on, bathing the room in orange. The hum was replaced with a loud siren as Bob stared at the mirror, his adult body gone. The siren stopped as the room was silent for a few seconds before coming back, then back to silence.
The place where the front door of his home sat was suddenly kicked down.
People wearing swat gear ran in with large shields and batons.
Bob turned to stare at them, but he could feel somebody else inside of his body.
“Let me show you your power.” The adult voice filled his head.
One officer standing on the other side of the room pulled out a pistol, pointing it at the young child.
“Hands up!” The officer shouted.
Bob’s eyes were wide in fear as he could feel himself trying to take over, but he was fighting it.
Without hesitation, the officer fired his pistol.
The bullet raced through the air before hitting Bob right between the eyes, causing his head to quickly tilt back and stare up into the bright orange lights that were nearly blinding.
As his head was tilted up, he felt himself lose control seamlessly and painlessly
His head very slowly moved back down until he was once again staring at the officers. Blood was pouring down from his wound, coating his nose in blood as it split into three distinct rivers before reaching his lips, one on each side and another running straight down the middle, letting him taste his own blood. His eyes began to glow orange, stronger and brighter than ever before.
The siren was blaring before suddenly stopping. The room was silent as Omen stared back at the officers.
The bullet suddenly fell out of his forehead and hit the floor, flatter than a coin and clicking against the soft material. The blood stayed covering his face as the wound sealed itself up.
Omen’s mouth went up into an evil smirk as tears rolled down his cheeks.
“I…am…free…” His voice was a mixture of the child Bob and adult Omen, like the two were in sync.
The siren blared again as two of the officers ran forward with their shields and batons. One swung when Omen caught it and punched the thick, armored helmet. The helmet shattered as Omen stared down at his broken hand, which very quickly snapped back the way it should be. The other hit him in the back with their baton, Omen’s spine snapping and causing him to fall forward onto his knees, his back uneven and jagged. The bones snapped back within seconds as he grit his teeth and grabbed the officer by his throat, lifting him off the ground as if he weighed nothing. Without any hesitation or difficulty, Omen’s hand clenched tightly until the flesh broke and the bones snapped. Blood splattered onto Omen and the wall before Omen dropped the corpse to the ground. More officers ran in as Omen swung the baton he was holding hard enough to shatter one of the riot shields. The officers hit Omen with their weapons, every shot breaking his bones and cutting his skin, but within seconds every wound was healed. Omen screamed out and punched through another shield and hit one officer in the chest, sending them flying back hard into the wall. An officer looked at the mirror, seeming to see something behind it. They quickly nodded and grabbed a gun from their hip holster, pulling out a pistol and firing repeatedly into Omen’s back. Every shot hit the target, but Omen didn’t fall. He slowly looked over his shoulder as the bullets were forced out and the holes quickly closed, leaving trails of blood running down his back and legs to the floor. Omen marched forward and punched the officer’s gun, causing it to shatter in their hand and fill it with sharp metal shrapnel. The officer went to punch Omen in the face, breaking his jaw in one blow, but Omen’s head did not waver. Omen stared into the officer’s eyes as the jaw was suddenly snapped back into place. Omen kicked the officer in the chest, the force so violent that their organs smashed against their skin as they flew backwards. The officer spit out blood on the floor while more officers ran in through the door. Omen grabbed a broken piece of riot shield the size of a pencil, dodged a baton strike from an officer, and then stabbed the piece deep into the side of their neck, causing a powerful spray of blood to shoot out, covering his face and chest. Omen could feel the officer trying to reach up and pull the piece out, so Omen gripped their head and violently twisted it to snap their neck and kill them instantly. A baton violently struck him in the back of the head, but he immediately spun around and punched the officer in the face, breaking their mask and causing it to splinter into their face. Omen stared at his once again broken hand as it snapped back in place.
He could feel bullets be fired into his legs and watched as splurts of blood fired out, but he walked forward as if nothing happened. With every step bullets popped out before he grabbed an officer’s arm, ripping it completely off their body before taking the exposed and sharp bone, driving it into their chest and slamming them down into the ground. Omen was surrounded by officers beating him down, every strike breaking his body only for it to be healed and beaten again. All of the officers lifted their batons up and swung down at the same time, but every baton shattered against his skin. Omen only laughed before grabbing broken pieces and spinning in a circle, the batons hitting each officer around him. Once they all fell backwards, another got up with a small taser and jabbed it into Omen’s neck as he fired. Omen only smiled and stared into the officer’s eyes before ripping the taser from his grip and shoving it into his mouth before squeezing, causing the electricity to fire down his throat and cause the skin inside to burn and melt. Omen felt his body be grabbed and thrown back, but Omen slammed his foot into the ground to stop himself, breaking the floor underneath him. Omen saw an officer run forward before he threw a roundhouse kick that very nearly ripped the body in half. Omen could the feel one of the broken and jagged baton pieces be violently stabbed into the back of his neck, but Omen quickly threw his head and neck back so the piece stabbed the officer behind him. The officer dropped down and Omen reached up to pull the piece out, but felt another bullet hit his arm. He turned around to see an officer standing on one leg holding their pistol out. Omen marched forward and kicked the officer right in the knee, causing it to shoot backwards and snap the officer’s leg loudly. The officer scream before Omen walked to his head, lifting his foot up and stomping down with enough force that his skull shattered into pieces.
Omen looked back to see only one officer still alive as they crawled towards the exit. Omen very slowly walked, stepping into the trail of blood the officer was leaving behind. Omen grabbed the officer and forced them to roll over onto their back. The officer was still wearing their helmet, so Omen ripped it off and stared into their eyes.
“Please…I have…a family.” The officer said while choking on blood.
Omen stared down at them.
“Do I look like I care?”
Omen suddenly punched straight down and into the officer’s face, shattering their skull and cutting himself on their jagged bones.
Omen slowly pulled his hand out as the bones were forced out and his cuts sealed.
He stood covered in blood, both his own and others, before staring through the open doorway. The space out there was also bathed in orange light, but then Omen turned back. He stared at the mirror before walking at a brisk pace through the blood and guts covering the room and floor.
Omen made it to the mirror and was about to punch.
“Sweetie?”
Omen turned around to see his Mother standing in the living room, everything back to the way it used to be. Cold, concrete walls and floors. The dirty and dark couch. The floor was clean and the front door sat closed. There was no more orange light or loud siren.
“Sweetie, is everything okay?” His Mother moved closer, but Omen stayed where he was.
“Mom?” He asked, his voice now only belonging to his child self.
“Sweetie, what are you doing?”
His Mom tightly hugged him, but he didn’t hug back.
“Where am I?” Bob asked, himself solely in control.
“You’re home.” She said.
“But…where is home?” He asked.
His Mom moved her head back to look into his eyes. She had a warm and loving smile that filled his heart with safety and happiness. Bob kept staring into her eyes, feeling emotion wash over him. Tears flooded down his face as his Mom changed to a worried look.
“Oh baby don’t cry.” She said as she started to wipe his eyes.
After a few seconds of wiping, she pulled her hands back.
Bob looked down to see blood on her fingers as she kept a warm and soft face, trying to calm him down.
“Honey, it’s okay. You’re safe.” She said.
He kept staring at her face when she suddenly leaned in and kissed his forehead. She moved back and blood surrounded her lips. Bob reached up to rub his face, pulling his hand out to see the blood.
“What is it sweetie?” She asked.
Bob looked at her as he could feel the same feeling he had felt.
The power.
The anger.
The darkness.
His eyes began to glow again, the room fading back into the aftermath of the massacre. His Mother still sat and looked the same, but her clothes were changed to an identical jumpsuit to his, but white instead of orange. Her loving face quickly faded to not just fear, but something more complex.
It was the face of scared realization.
“Swe…sweet…sweetie?” She asked.
Her voice was dry, emotionless, and cold.
“You…”
The voice was once again a mixture of the two.
“Are not…”
The adult voice was more prevalent.
“My Mother.”
The child voice was completely gone as the adult voice was all that could be heard. The woman’s eyes went wide when Omen suddenly shot his hand out to wrap around her throat. She grabbed his wrist and squeezed to try and make him let go, but he was too strong. He gripped tighter and tighter as her face began to change color. She tried to beg and plead, but he was squeezing too tightly to let anything out. Her eyes stared into his as the life was very quickly fading.
Omen stared back without emotion, without care as he kept choking his mother in front of him.
Even after her body went limp and her skin grew dark, he kept holding her throat. He kept squeezing and squeezing until he finally let go, the body dropping to the blood soaked floor and creating a large splash.
Omen began to breathe deep and slow breaths, but then turned back to the mirror.
He fully turned towards it and stared at his own reflection as he moved closer. His eyes were glowing bright enough to nearly work as flashlights, reflecting off the mirror and back at himself.
He kept staring as his eyes began to grow fainter and fainter, like he was able to control them. He kept concentrating and making them dissipate before they were no longer glowing. His normal eyes stared back in the reflection, everything still as it was.
Omen smirked before walking closer to the mirror, violently headbutting the glass and causing it to shatter after one blow. The broken glass rained down and ran across his head all over, cutting him everywhere and causing him to bleed before he lifted his head up, staring at adults wearing suits and scientist jackets.
The cuts all quickly sealed up as Omen smiled while softly chuckling.
“Now we can get started.”
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