Doe

I had done it, I was finally someone– something of significance, it seemed. I was finally free. Finally free from my figurative shackles, and yet everything was exactly the same. I was the same person, with fresh experiences in my head now, but those around me seemed as though they had become distant. Nonsense, I thought at first, but even in freedom I was still human, my mind slowly, but surely, withering away. My friends, even family, seemed like utter strangers. Yes, here I was, alone at last. The silence I had longed for almost all my life, only now I was the noise. I couldn’t control my thoughts, the ideas racing through my head. New problems popped up from what seemed like nowhere, and no one could help me, because I was alone. Alone by choice, yes, but alone nonetheless. 

When I woke up that first morning, that’s when I knew. When I knew I was the only one who didn’t want to be there, the only one who was forced into pretending to fit in. As soon as I opened my eyes and lifted my head from its pillow, I was different from the rest. The place I was forced into– the Youth Hero Instructional Camp (YHIC for short)– was going to be my new home for the rest of the summer. 

After the two hour drive from my home to get there, I finally saw it. It was a nice building, to put it simply, but I couldn’t bring myself to make friends with the others. If I wanted to, I would, but I’ve never had much motivation to converse with others, much less make friends.

My mother dropped me and my luggage off outside the building’s large, glass double doors, assured me I would be perfectly fine, and drove away. Where was I supposed to go? I didn’t know, but I opened one of the doors and dragged my bags in along with me. Luckily, I was never one to pack heavy, so I only had a small suitcase and my backpack to carry with me. 

There were already other kids waiting inside, two boys and one girl. I eyed them skeptically; unless they were like me, and they were forced to be here, then they were definitely the type of people who idolised heroes. Those types of people often think that, just because they have an ability, they have a one hundred percent chance of becoming a hero. I shouldn’t say that they’re absolutely certain, but a high amount of people I’ve met who have abilities act as though they do.

As I looked around the entrance, I felt swallowed by the sheer height of the ceiling. I still didn’t know where I was going, so I went to the front desk to try and get some information. Even the front desk was grand; it was made out of a huge slab of what seemed to be real marble. There was no one at the desk.

With a displeased sigh, I turned around and almost actually jumped out of my skin. The girl who had been waiting on the other side of the entrance was now standing right behind me. 

“I’m Ally,” she grinned. “There’s no one at the front desk right now, so we were waiting by those chairs,” she continued to smile politely at me.

“That’s what I thought,” I said back to her, not knowing why she was bothering to talk to me. It looked like she had already become best friends with one of the two boys on the other side of the entrance. The other one, who I assumed she– Ally hadn’t gone around talking to yet, was playing a game on his phone. I sat down in the chair next to the sleepy- looking one, and slowly lifted up my left arm. On my wrist, I wore a band. The band itself looked like a thin metal bracelet, but it was illegal for me to take it off without permission. 

As I said before, I have an ability. People with abilities can usually do things that other people can’t. That's what an ability is, the ability to do something different, impossible in the eyes of normal society. I didn’t know what my ability was, only that I didn’t want it. Didn’t want to be here, even, because everyone else must have thought the opposite of what I did. I was grateful for my band at least, because it blocked my ability, but it was giving me a rash around my wrist. That was annoying.

I didn’t want to waste my time here, in this place where I'd surely be alone.