It's been exactly five years. Five years since I saw my father's smile, five years since I heard my mother's laughs. Most importantly, it's been five years since I truly felt whole.

To this day I still don't understand why they did it, and the doubt that I ever will, lived inside me like a parasit. The anger I felt was never directed towards my parents, they were and still are my role models. There have been days when I wish that I said something. I wish that I told them that they should stay. 

I don't know why I didn't, maybe because something inside me knew that they would never listen or maybe something else in me had reassured me that they would be fine.

"I miss you both." The words seemingly just floated out my mouth, towards my bedroom ceiling. 

As my eyes opened and I pinched from my eye bags to my nose, wiping the moisture away. A small chuckle escaped my mouth. 

16 years of age, and I'm still crying for mommy and daddy.

 I sat up in bed, still, with no thoughts in mind, waiting. I was waiting for my mothers to walk through my door with a plate of pancakes and a smiley face made out of whipped cream on the top pancake, my favourite breakfast.

 Or maybe my father would walk through with some new strange gadget he'd found on one of his adventures.

I waited for several minutes, but just like every day prior, my door stayed closed.I ran my fingers through my hair, moving my hair up off my face before getting out of bed. I walked into my bathroom and simply stared at my reflection in the mirror. On the bright side, at least school's over.

 I went through my usual bathroom routine, before returning to my room and preparing myself for the day ahead. 

Today was June 31st of the year 2070. A fairly eventful day too, as today was the last day of regular school for me as well as the anniversary of my parent's disappearance. 

I say disappearance because I know that my parents would never die so easily, but those around me are convinced that this was just some kind of coping mechanism for me, to convince myself that one day, my parents would return to me. 

I would be lying if I said a part of me didn't think the same, but I will never give up on my parents. Whether they come home to me themselves or I go find them and bring them home.

 No matter what, I will have my family back.

I threw on my usual outfit, consisting of an oversized black tracksuit, shoes so worn down the logo was just an N, and a small swoosh above it, I never did figure out what the brand was.

 As I looked at myself in the mirror once more I could hear my mother's voice yelling at me for looking homeless but I tended to disagree. The outfit was comfortable and completely free of charge as I scavenged it out of my father's closet.

When you're living on a government-ruled allowance, you tend to worry less about what you look like, and more about if your house is still going to be your house when you get back from school.

 I messed up my hair quickly before bolting out the door after looking up at the clock on my wall and realising that my excess of sulking had caused me to be about 30 seconds away from being late for the last day of school, which for some reason was taken a tad bit too serious.

I reached my bus just as it was about to depart and discreetly made my way to my usual seat, at the very back of the bus.

 Of course, even with me trying my best to not draw any attention to myself, I just seemed too popular to go unnoticed.

"Look at him. I bet he hasn't washed that tracksuit in weeks. What a loser."

"Shut up, don't you remember what happened to Kyle? He badmouthed that weirdo last year and ever since then, he can't form a contract with anyone."

"I know, I know, but it just pisses me off that he's such a freak, and he's a total coward. Just him in general makes me want to puke."

I kept my head down, pretending to have fallen asleep which seemed to have prompted the pair of girls sitting in front of me to talk like no one was listening. I didn't care or mind their words but it was a little annoying that they didn't even have the courtesy to be a little quieter.

Their conversation did give me something to think about for the next 25 minutes. I have to admit, public transportation is definitely something. 

But as I thought back to last year, I was just as confused as everyone else. Kyle Kim, though he had the name of some superhero's secret identity, he was the farthest thing from a superhero.

He and his little group of cronies had made my life miserable for the last four years up until that point. With the name-calling, assaulting, and fake phone calls from my "parents" on my birthday, I considered using the rest of my governmental allowance to call a hitman on them all. I mean the phone call alone had me thinking about ending his life myself. But, I didn't earn the title of coward for nothing.

 I allowed them to continue the harassing, every single day without fail, and I would say nothing. When my eyes could cry no more tears, when my skin stopped even attempting to close up my wounds with scabs, when my voice had left me unable to scream, I prayed. I prayed every second that someone, anyone would come help me. Someone would find out what was happening and put a stop to it, but no one came.

I prepared myself to live through the same experiences for the rest of my time in school, but I guess someone did hear my call. During the day of selection, the day when every student, aged 15, at every school, is gathered together to form their first contracts, a few thousand kids all crammed into one stadium. I always found it stupid that we had to be brought together and forced to try and find a contractor all at once, but I guess that's just my two cents. 

I think I tried for nearly two hours, trying to call out to anyone or anything, but just like the rest of the unlucky 20 percent of the population, I failed. I wasn't chosen. 

I felt greatly disheartened at first, but seeing the teary-eyed faces of my classmates made me feel much better. The greatest moment from that day, something I still smile about to this day, was when I saw the high and mighty Kyle Kim, crying like a baby while throwing a tantrum. I think I was about half a second away from bursting into laughter before Kyle suddenly looked up at me from across the stadium floor before he stood up and ran towards me, slowly raising his fist as he approached.

 Two security guards took notice of it and quickly restrained him before he could come any closer.

'I guess they do have eyes.' I thought at that moment, still holding in my laughter.

"It was you! You stupid cowardly cursed freak! You put some kind of weird curse on me, didn't you? You cursed your stupid parents and now you did it to me! I'll f*cking kill you!" He yelled, the anger in his voice almost made him seem like a person I should be taking seriously.

But when an idiot with a large snot bubble coming out of his nose and teary red eyes attempts to threaten you, it's harder to keep yourself composed rather than be nervous or even a little bit scared.

At the moment I thought nothing of it, but I guess humans have always been the gullible type. A few of my other classmates had heard Kyle's words, and by the power vested in teenage toddlers, the nickname "The Cursed Coward" had been born.

For the first week or so I thought people were trying to be funny, I thought they knew that Kyle was just rambling because he was upset, but I'm never quite right am I? I mean being able to curse someone was an ability gained after forming a contract with some kind of being that could curse things, and I was a part of the unlucky few that had failed in making a contract, so his words didn't even make sense. 

But soon after, even the few people that previously, had no qualms with me, and would even regularly speak with me began to avoid me completely.

Within two weeks I was pushed even further into the corner I was previously in. It had no real effect on me, other than causing a great resentment for the chosen to well up inside me. 

The Chosen, what a stupid childish name.

 I do think calling nicknames childish is pretty funny.

"What the hell is he laughing about?"

"He's probably cursing someone in his sleep, come on let's go."

At the sound of the pair of girls getting out of their seats, I opened my eyes and peered out the window.

"The last day," I mumbled softly.

I got up from my chair and went to grab my backpack. My arm swiped through the air but didn't come into contact with anything. I swept a few more times before looking down at my seat and seeing that there was nothing else there. Sh*t Sh*t Sh*t. I began searching around the area where I was sitting frantically, praying that maybe it just fell and slid across the ground somewhere. 

It was only when the bus was about to depart that I realised I'd left my backpack at home.

"Mom, Dad, if you guys are dead, I'll be joining you soon."

I ran out of the bus, thanked the bus driver for not driving off while I was having my crisis, and stood still in front of the school gates for quite some time. 

It had been the first time I had given the school a good look. For all the technological advancements that humanity has made since the Great War, you'd think the public school system would reap some benefits as well. But alas the school looked as plain and simple as the pictures my grandpa would show me of his school.

 I wonder where he is. My grandpa was as hard to find as a needle in a haystack, and I think I've met him about 4 times in my entire life, but I wasn't complaining. He was a very … unique man.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

The sound of the school bell ringing snapped me back to reality, a reality which at the moment I wish I didn't have to face. I slapped myself on the face with both hands before exhaling loudly through my mouth. 

My fate had been sealed and now I would have to come face to face with the devil.

"You complete and utter idiot! It's the last day of school for god sake! Would it kill you to show up like an actual student!"

I tried my best to dodge the incoming spit that was being sprayed at my face, but with hands the size of a gorilla gripping onto my arms, I had to stand there and just take it. I felt quite violated.

"Are you even listening to me? Mr. Damon Ewell, I said are you listening to me?!"

"Yes, yes, sorry Mrs.Jackson. I would say it won't happen again, but you know, it's the last day of school and all"

"Oh shut up! The fact that I'll never have to see you again is the only thing keeping me sane right now! Now go take your seat!"

I nodded my head and quickly made my way to the back of the class, avoiding the gazes of all my laughing and gossiping classmates. I plopped down into my chair and promptly put my head down on my desk. I was honestly a little happy that she didn't lay into me too hard, cause when that woman gets mad, she gets mad. 

I actually kind of like Mrs.Jackson, she's the only person who hates me for me. Not because of dumb rumours or because of how I look and act. She just despises my very guts, and I kind of respect that.

I enjoyed my 160-minute long nap, courtesy of it being the last day of school and my period 1 and 2 teachers have already placed bets on whether I'll be bagging their fries or taking out their trash by next year. 

However, I was not as lucky in the last two periods.Period 3 was taken up by some weird trivia game. The question would be displayed on the large screen in front of the class, and we would choose from the four potential answers displayed on our own devices. I ended up placing 20th, out of 21 people. Which didn't sting quite as much as the top three spots spelling out "Stupid Cursed Weirdo". How original. 

On my way to the fourth period, I was feeling quite nervous. Not because of school but because of how boring the day had been. By this hour I should have been at least shoved in a locker or had my head pushed down a toilet bowl. It was very comical but it's not funny when hints of faeces fly through your nose. 

As I sat down for the fourth period, I said a prayer that hopefully, just hopefully, my teacher would decide that for once in his life, he didn't want to take his job seriously. In the following minutes, he had sprung an impromptu oral test on us. 

Asking questions about topics from years prior, and I didn't even know what we had learned this year. 

A few rounds of questioning went on before I finally started to wake up a little bit, and just in time for something I was about to very much enjoy. 

"How did the Great War start and what year?" Mr. Brunson asked, sitting down on his chair and staring into his computer. From the way he looked, you'd think he didn't care much about the test but from a year of experience, and a very painful experience at that, I knew he had his stupid little spreadsheet open, marking down who was participating and who wasn't.

"The Great War started in 2060, and the conflict started the day the Vempit attacked. The humanoid serpent-like creatures were completely resistant to all of humanity's weapons, causing us to be brought to the brink of destruction. That was of course until the Progenitors stepped forward, introducing their powers and abilities to the world." A girl yelled out, before sitting back down in her seat.

I looked up from my desk to see just what nerd went the extra mile when answering the question, and to my surprise, it was one of the girls who had been sitting in front of me on the bus. Who would've thought?

"That's correct, thank you, Melissa. You could've done without the extra information but that's fine." Mr.B said without even looking up from his computer.

The sour expression the bus girl had on her face improved my day by at least 10 percent. It was now on my list of most satisfying experiences, only a few spots under Kyle's little mental breakdown.

"Now then, for the final question. Other than gaining abilities from a contractor, how can someone gain power in today's society?"

A student started to speak up when Mr.B put his hand up, indicating to him to stop. 

He scanned the room for a few seconds before stopping his gaze on me. This can't be good.

"Do you know, Mr.Ewell?"

"Steroids still function pretty well these days," I answered, keeping my eyes glued to my desk.

"Mr.Ewell" He responded, his tone telling me he appreciated my sense of humour as much as appreciated having me in his class.

I let out a small sigh before taking a deep breath and responding with a proper answer.