I am not a fan of the rain. At all.

Not to say I hate it, because I do not. Logically, the rain provides extra nutrients to the farm and the soil beneath it. But I certainly do not like it.

The rain makes everything messy, soon enough there’s mud on my shoes, the roads are slippery and the papers in my backpack are soaked with the black ink running off the white pages.

I grumbled out loud and to no one in particular, “I’m going to kill Evelyn.” By this point my clothes were about to be soaked to the bone, my hair was becoming downtrodden with the weight of the rain that had been soaked into the cuticle.

Spitting rain bounced against the paved road, like hopping drops of rain that jumped back at my legs. Cold rain drops slipped down my forehead and clung to my eyelashes.

The rain had been soft and shy in the beginning, though only for a few moments before showering and pummeling me with echoing rain drops.

The roadside sidewalk took me over a bridge, the metal handrail reflected the rain as it drowned it. Something caught my attention further down the river, and for a moment I didn’t care about the shower of rain. A bubbling in the water caught and held my gaze, I tilted my head, hoping to find out why parts of the water were gurgling.

Stopping on the edge of the bridge, I looked down at the waters below. The raindrops pattered against the blue waters and birthed ripples down the river.

Tires squealing like a rabid animal brought my attention behind me. I turned, only to immediately have a car slam forward into me.

I felt the car bang against me, like thunder reverberating in my chest. The grill pressing against my stomach and ribs, imprinting it into my skin. The bridge handrail bent and broke with me, sending it towards the river’s depths.

The river was as cold and bitter as a winter frost. The bottom of the river pressed sand into the fibers of my flannel. I couldn’t see much as the waters rushed around me, but I could make out the rain drops as they dotted the rivers surface, bobbing against the reservoir.

I tried to squirm but couldn’t, sending me into a hair raising panic. Part of me knew I could stay there, water didn’t faze me, but there was someone still in the car. So not using my powers wasn’t really in the options catalog.

Huffing I took in the situation, my backpack was catching me between the cold metal of the car and the cold sand from the bottom of the river. At that moment I left behind my backpack and let my hands hover over the car for a few moments before my fingers gripped the front.

It creaked and groaned as I bent the metal of the car so I could squirm out. I did not use much strength to tear it apart at the seams, a fact that only seemed to deepen the current feelings swirling around and settling in my chest.

Sliding out from beneath the car I swam upwards and towards the driver’s seat. Ripping open the door I pulled the unconscious driver out of the river. His body was limp as we swam up to the surface.

I crawled up the embankment, just far enough from the water’s edge so I could place the boy on the ground. Steadying myself into a kneeling position over him my mind whirred.

Taking a quick breath I adjusted my vision to see past the boy’s ribs, his heart was still beating. This type of vision is most closely related to what humans can see with an x-ray, though it's obviously in real time. The world goes grey and I can suddenly see through walls, furniture and sometimes past people.

Mumbling to myself I pressed harder onto his chest, my laced fingers digging into his hard chest, “I know you’re not dead, come on. Come on!” Water from my hair dripped onto his soaked clothing as I tried to remember the steps to resuscitation.

His pulse was thready and weak. Going in and out like the tides.

My hair was pressed against my forehead haphazardly, my lungs heaving as I looked down at him. Huffing two breaths into his mouth I prepared myself to continue CPR. Instead, his eyes cracked open.

Spittle and water immediately came up as he emptied his glass lungs. The boy’s eyes were bloodshot red as he was mimicking me with a heavy chest. His voice was static and breath filled as he fought to catch all the air flowing out of his lungs.

“Take your time. Breathe.” I spoke softly, trying not to catch him off guard.

He flopped back onto the ground, laying down and watching the skies above. He didn’t make eye contact as he said, “I could’ve sworn I hit you.”

Small specks of beige sand were pressed into the tan skin over his sculpted cheekbones. Other than that his features were dark, black and well-groomed hair with narrow sepia eyes. He doesn’t seem to be quite fazed at what just happened, not even a shiver or slightly wide eyes.

“If you did, I’d probably be dead.” Cold sweat curled over my vertebrae as I sat staring at the rippling water, bubbles still popped at the surface of the river as all the oxygen was drained from the boy’s car.

Interrupting us, my parents came swooping down the embankment and towards me. My father boomed with wide eyes, there was a smear of dirt on his neck that I noticed, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Before I could respond, a silk covered voice stated, “You have quite an extraordinary boy there, not many people would do what he did for me.” My father turned at his slick voice, smooth and captivating, “Is there anything I can do for your family to repay you?”

Despite his kind words there’s something in the tone of voice that tells me he’s not giving the whole story.

After all, who notices Rory Curie? I’m good at staying invisible and not being anything close to extraordinary as he so said.

Honestly, I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me or my dad. But before I could respond he asked, “You’re Alvara’s boy, aren’t you?”

The boy stuck out a slightly pale hand. I could see the thick ring on his finger. A crest, “Yes sir.” Though he dropped it as my dad left it hanging in the air, “Elias Alvara.”

I had heard of the Alvara family before, as I'm sure almost everyone in Bedlam had. Their giant mansion was built at the crest of the town just as they dug their claws into the towns’ economy. Farming, manufacturing, technology, even medical supplies,  the Alvara’s did everything.

Immediately my dad’s nostrils flared, his voice brimmed with anger, “In that case, you can repay us by leaving us alone and by being a better driver.”

Elias smiled, jaw taught. He didn’t look surprised at my dad’s reaction, almost expectant. And yet he still asked, I noted.

The Alvara’s are not well liked within Bedlam, their corporation had been responsible for laying off 25% of the population when they moved their headquarters back to the city.

Without saying goodbye my father smashed up the embankment and towards the car.

“No broken bones?” My mom asked, her voice airy. Placing her hand on my shoulder lightly. I looked over to her, tearing my gaze away from Elias who was now sitting on a tree stump.

My eyes crinkled as I smiled, “No mom, I'm okay. No broken bones for me today.” She didn’t look convinced, eyes still watching me as if at any second I would turn to glass and be laid out at her feet in a pile.

I heard the creaking sounds of emergency services beginning to pull the crushed car from the winding river, but I didn’t look back as the car began to pull me home. The siren made my ears ring.