It was probably chilly outside, given the rattling of wind against the roof. That was odd for a spring day.

I sat near a door, braced against the red wall of the vigilante's underground home, knees tucked into my chest. The room the vigilantes had offered me was certainly not flattering — with flaking paint and scratched floors, a bed with a rickety mattress — but it served its purpose, I suppose. 

Sighing, I dropped my head. 

Never in my life would I had believed I'd have to live here. Ever since my outburst — a horrid, gut-wrenching outburst — that had happened at Vixora, I'd been stuck here, unable to go back.

Maybe I should have found the silver lining — I was right, superhuman vigilantes existed, and now I was residing with them — but the shock of that didn’t faze me anymore. I was simply numb. 

Every day, the memory was stuck on loop in my head, and today was no different. 

After the horrible thing I'd done during the shootout, Alexander had dragged me away in a hurry — and at the time, I was clueless as to what had happened until he stopped in an alleyway where his hideout sat and explained what he was doing.

He knew an outburst when he saw one (or, at least, those were his words). He knew what I was going through, figured to offer me help, because if I stepped into the outside world, I’d be in severe trouble if anyone recognized me.

Plus, superhuman-kind had just been exposed. What could I have done about that? 

Gripping the fabric of my pants tighter, I swallowed. The lump in my throat didn't dissipate, and so I tried again. Now my eyes only tore up. 

I should have turned myself in. I should have broken from Alexander's grasp and run straight to the police, begging them to arrest me. Why should I have been protected? I slaughtered people. Even if I couldn't manage my finicky telekinesis that acted on its own, nothing justified the event.

The image of two innocent citizens, plus the gunman on the ground, bullet holes put through their skulls, instantly flashed into my mind. With a roiling gut, I shuddered and blinked rapidly, forcing away the tears. 

"Why are you crying? You're the monster here. Don't feel pity for yourself!" hissed a familiar voice — the tone of my Aunt Naveilla — and I only shivered once more. I held my left calf: the spot Naveilla had dragged a knife down as she shouted those words.

Sense dictated that I should have felt spiteful at her for hurting her own nephew. But I didn't have sense. I couldn't bring any hatred to anyone but myself.

An outburst had happened once when I was eight, and my family could barely even handle that. Mom was shaken up, sobbing for days about her brother's death, while my father isolated himself to deal with his grief. 

Their reputation was soiled enough, and at that point, nobody cared about it. All they cared about was how their monstrous son destroyed a piece of their family.

And now that the monster in the Cessair family had messed up a second time… how were they even managing? How much rage did they have?

They must have been infuriated, and I was to blame

My train of thought halted when footfalls resounded from outside the door.

Quickly swallowing and looking up, I struggled and shoved against the weight of the guilt; the weight of the monster eating away at my soul. The door swung open and Alexander peeked in. He'd been taking a break from vigilante work while his companions had all gone out today. 

"Hey, Mr. Fancy Pants, you good?"

I winced at the nickname that only Talia — who seemed long gone now — had given me.

Blinking harder and fighting against the stinging, prickling tears, I took a deep breath. "I’m alright." 

Why did this man care?

Alexander cocked a brow, blue eyes clouded with confusion. "My bad. Maybe I worded that wrong. You're not okay. I see it on your face."

Resisting the urge to bite back, I balled my hands into fists and controlled my breathing. Controlled my tears. Controlled myself. "Alexander, I am perfectly alright —"

"No. You're not, buddy boy, you can't hide it. And I dunno why I expected you to be." The man sighed, brushing his tattered baggy pants before coming over and taking a seat beside me. 

Why would he bother? I was a man who soiled his own reputation and his family's, who murdered people, who did so many horrible things. Alexander needed to leave.

"You're not fooling anyone, dude." He only inched closer. "I've met a couple superhumans with outburst issues in my life. It makes them feel pretty damn guilty, so I know how you feel. I know your issue is severe, and I don't expect you to instantly get over these feelings of shame. But… well, I'm sorry if this sounds stupid, but you can't just give up on your entire life. It’s not worth it, I swear. Try to make one little improvement at a time, because you deserve to get better. Will you be welcomed into society right now? Okay, maybe not; we’ll have to wait on that. But you don't deserve shame, or fear, or hate. Because you didn't ask for this power; you were just born with it— born with something uncontrollable. And that’s not on you."

My fingers were trembling as I inched away from Alexander, fighting the urge to cover my ears, scream, and sob. I only tucked my knees in closer to my chest, placing my head down.

"Alexander, I humbly request you leave me alone." My voice was a mere whisper amongst the noise of my rampaging thoughts. This man wasn't anywhere near right. The outbursts had happened twice, and the first time I'd tried to improve my ability, nothing had worked.

I'd tried fixing it for twelve years. Surely if I were meant to mend my power, it would have happened within that time frame. 

But it didn't. I was meant to be a monster, who'd only wreak havoc. Where was the logic in trying again?

Alexander sighed. "Okay. Okay, alright. I think I'm annoying you right now, and I don't wanna make anyone uncomfortable." He slowly got to his feet. "I’m gonna revisit you, but right now, you’re probably not ready.”

I gave no response as he turned around and left the room. Closing my eyes, I sighed in relief.

Good riddance.

The loud boom of an explosion jolted me awake. 

I yelped, scrambling to my feet. After swiftly checking my surroundings — the empty room I'd fallen asleep in — I headed straight for the door. What was that noise? Where had it come from?

"Caster!" Alexander's voice rang out from outside my room, along with loud footsteps. 

I quickly flung the door open. "What's going —"

Another startling noise made me jump, and it was accompanied by the sound of wood crashing onto the ground. Menacing wisps of smoke trailed through the air.

"Some crazy superhuman's shooting these green projectiles at our home!" Alexander yanked me forward by the hand. "Let's go; it's not safe here!"

"I — what are you — what do you even—"

Before I could finish, he bolted down the hall at superhuman speed, and I was practically flying through the air, feet barely touching the floor and heart hitting my chest. As more booms and crashes came from behind us — allegedly from the kitchen — and shook just about the entire shelter, Alexander veered to the right, heading for a red-painted door I hadn't seen earlier. The sign on it read: EMERGENCY EXIT.

He skidded to a stop, finally allowing me to breathe as he flung the door open and pulled me along. A staircase of five steel blue steps lay ahead of us.

"What… where did this superhuman —"

"No time for questions, Caster, let's just go." Alexander jogged up the steps as I followed, walking with quivering legs, and flipped open what looked like a trapdoor.

A stream of fresh air filled my nose as Alexander leapt off the stairs and into the outside world. 

More explosions came from behind me, this time close enough to make me fall over. An inaudible scream — not from Alexander — rattled me to my core.

"Caster, c'mon! We gotta run!"

Hesitant, I scrambled up the stairs and out of the underground home, instantly hit with a wave of sound. 

"CASTER!"

My head was suddenly yanked towards the ground as a searing heat warmed my back, accompanied by a green glow that briefly lit up the ground.

Another scream, haunted and insane, ripped through the air as I stood back up again and whirled around. A man with torn clothing, wild black hair, and bloodshot eyes stood in front of us, glowing green balls of light hovering in his hands.

"GO!"

The voice came from Alexander as he yanked me away from the next projectile aimed my way. "Get outta here, Caster!" He thrust me forward and ducked under an incoming attack. "Hide, and I'll come to you when I'm finished with this guy!"

I stumbled forward, heading towards what seemed like a bend in the alleyway. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Alexander darting right towards the crazed man who'd burned giant holes in the roof of the vigilante's home, traces of green smoke flowing out.

Alexander evaded another projectile as he sped forward, hitting the man right in the gut.

Whirling around again, I bolted away from the scene with a reeling mind, shaking limbs, and pounding heart.