The house was eerily silent as Thomas sat there, still on his knees.
The door to the house burst open with an undeniable force. His adoptive mother stepped in again, this time some neighbors came with her
Before Thomas could even sigh, the neighbors began pouring in behind her. Some were standing in the doorway, while others were peeking through windows, whispering amongst themselves.
"How could you do this to that poor dog?" one of the women from the neighborhood exclaimed. Her face twisted in anger. "He's been part of the family for years, and you... you just—"
"They must've been right!" another neighbor added, shaking their head. "I always knew something wasn't right about him. He's nothing but a monster!"
But Thomas never tried to explain.The weight of the accusations suffocated him.
"Maybe the poor couple should never have adopted him," someone else added, voice dripping with judgment. "They couldn't have kids of their own, and look at the one they took in. A monster."
Thomas's head began to spin. The shame, the guilt—everything hit him like a tidal wave. But then, something snapped.
The whispers grew louder, the words harder to bear. He didn't want to be a monster. He had never never wanted to hurt anyone. But the voices, the judgments—they were suffocating him.
"That's enough!" Thomas suddenly shouted, his voice harsh and strained. His fists clenched tightly at his sides as anger bubbled up, hot and uncontrollable. "You don't know anything!"
The words echoed in the room, but they were drowned out by the steady footsteps of his adoptive father, who had entered the room, his face a mask of fury.
"You ungrateful little—" His father's voice was laced with rage. "How dare you do this to the only family that ever took you in!"
Thomas stood up quickly, shaking with a mix of frustration, fear, and a deep sense of injustice.
He just stood still. Not knowing what to say or do.
His father took a step forward, face twisted in anger. "You've crossed a line. This is unforgivable!"
Without warning, his father slapped him across the face. The sting of it cut deep, not just physically, but emotionally. His father had always been strict, but this was something more—this was betrayal. The sense of betrayal cut through Thomas like a knife.
A flood of emotions surged through Thomas. His father had just hit him, but it wasn't just the slap that hurt—it was everything. The years of misunderstanding. The years of thinking that he could never be good enough for anyone. The years of feeling out of place.
Thomas clenched his fists, his fingers curling around the edges of the table as his entire body trembled. He could feel his powers, his energy, building inside him again—the same power that had been his greatest fear.
"No…" he whispered to himself, trying to control it, trying to keep it inside. But it was too late.
In a flash of frustration, his hand reached out, and without thinking, he pushed his father away. The force of the blast was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. His father was sent flying backward, crashing into the wall with a sickening thud.
The room went deathly quiet for a moment. Everyone stood frozen, eyes wide in disbelief, staring at the man who had been thrown with such force. The neighbors gasped, some of them screamed, and others ran out of the house, the fear evident in their eyes.
"Call the cops!" someone shouted, but their voice was barely audible over the sound of Thomas's own heartbeat, which thudded in his ears like a drum.
Thomas's heart raced as he looked at his father, who was now motionless against the wall. He hadn't meant to hurt him, hadn't meant to use his powers. But the anger, the frustration, the fear—it had all come pouring out of him like a raging storm.
He looked down at his hands. His breath was shallow, his whole body shaking. This was real. He was a monster. He had just hurt the only person who ever tried to raise him. His father was unconscious.
Without thinking, without hesitation, Thomas turned and ran.
He pushed past the open door, stumbling into the yard, his legs carrying him down the street before he even knew what he was doing.
He didn't look back. He couldn't.
The room was chaotic, a whirlwind of emotions and voices all blending together. Thomas was gone, having fled in a panic, and now the house felt like a strange, empty shell.
His adoptive mother, still in shock, rushed to her husband's side. Her face was pale, her hands trembling as she crouched next to him. The man's body was slumped against the wall, his eyes closed, his breathing shallow. She placed a hand on his chest, checking for any signs of life, her mind still reeling from the shock of what had just happened. The slap. The explosion of power. Thomas's anger. The dog's death. It was all too much.
"Peter... Peter, please…" she whispered, her voice breaking. Her hands hovered over him but never fully touched, as if afraid that the scene might somehow be a dream. But it wasn't. This was reality. Her husband was unconscious, possibly badly injured, and that monster of a son—her adopted son—had just fled in fear or rather, anger, leaving nothing behind but a shattered home.
Meanwhile, the neighbors had not yet left. Some stood outside, watching from the gate, others still hanging around in the doorway, their murmurs growing louder with each passing second. They couldn't help themselves. Some whispered, some judged, but all of them seemed to find a sense of satisfaction in their judgment of Thomas.
"He's a monster, I told you all along!" one of the women said, her voice tinged with a strange sense of vindication. "They said he was just a troubled boy, but it's clear he's dangerous. No normal person would do something like this."
"Poor Peter," another added. "They should've known. They shouldn't have taken him in."
"We need to tell the authorities. This can't go unpunished," a man from the crowd muttered, his voice grim.
The police arrived just a few minutes later, their blue-and-red lights flashing across the front of the house. The paramedics were right behind them, an ambulance pulling up just outside the gate.
One of the officers, tall and broad-shouldered, surveyed the scene with a practiced eye. His gaze swept over the damage: the overturned furniture, the smashed walls, and the unconscious man still lying in the corner.
"Are you is wife?" one of the officers asked the woman.
"Y..y..yes," she replied, voice shaking. "He's... he's my husband. Peter, please be okay..." she continued, leaning over him again, desperate.
The officer nodded gravely and motioned for the paramedics to come forward. They quickly moved in and began to work, assessing the man's condition and preparing him for transport to the hospital. The officers turned their attention to the neighbors, who had gathered near the gate. They were all watching the scene unfold, some fearful, others muttering accusations.
"Did anyone see the boy leave?" one of the officers asked.
A neighbor, the same one who had accused Thomas earlier, spoke up. "He ran off that way," she pointed toward the street, her hand trembling. "Straight down the street, toward the park. I saw him go, but he was moving fast."
The officer nodded and signaled to another one, who quickly relayed the information to the team in charge of locating Thomas. They began to organize a search, their eyes scanning the area, trying to pick up any signs of where he might have gone.
But as the minutes ticked by, and the sounds of police radios filled the air, something became apparent.
Thomas was gone.
There were no traces, no footprints, nothing that indicated where he had fled. It was as if the boy had disappeared into thin air.
The officer frowned. He was a seasoned cop, but even he couldn't explain this. He looked back at the woman, now sobbing softly in the corner, her husband still unconscious beside her.
"We'll find him, don't worry," he said, though his words rang hollow even to his own ears. He didn't know how to find someone when there were no clues, no sign of where they'd gone.
"It's like he vanished," the officer muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else. He gave one last, quick look around the area before signaling for his team to move out.
As the police began to search the area, the paramedics worked quickly to load Peter into the ambulance. The crowd slowly began to disperse, many of the neighbors still gossiping, pointing fingers, and offering their own version of events.
Some looked at each other uneasily, wondering if Thomas's strange behavior had been a warning all along. Others just shook their heads, thinking the family had been cursed from the start.
But through all the noise and the confusion, no one noticed the faintest hint of movement near the edge of the street. No one saw the shadow that passed through the alleyway, moving quickly and silently in the direction Thomas had ran to..