I was never loved.
In the schoolyard, where laughter filled the air, I was the only child sitting beneath a barren tree, clutching a faded notebook and sketching worlds no one else could see. The sky above me was gray, as if reflecting my solitude, and the cold wind played with my hair, like it was the only one speaking to me.
I muttered in a steady tone, tinged with madness:
"One day, I'll have a superpower... and I'll destroy this world."
A few students passed by. They exchanged quick glances before one of them laughed and whispered to his friend:
"There he goes again... the crazy kid talking to himself."
They mocked me. But I didn't respond. I was too busy staring at the clouds, searching for something I couldn't even name.
Then—on that very gray day—something unexpected happened.
"Amazing... I want a superpower too."
The words froze in my throat. I turned slowly, as if time itself had stopped when I heard that voice.
I saw her.
A new girl, standing in front of me, her black hair cascading over her shoulders like midnight, and a smile that pierced through the veil of isolation I'd worn for so long.
She stepped closer with confident strides, her schoolbag slung over one shoulder, her eyes calm and fearless.
"I'm new here... Do you mind if we sit together during break?"
I nodded, stunned that someone actually wanted to sit with me—no mockery, no hesitation.
From that moment on, I wasn't alone anymore.
We became friends in a world that showed no mercy to outcasts. We ate lunch on a worn-out bench near the back wall of the school, beneath the only cherry blossom tree that still bloomed despite the harshness around it. We drew our own superheroes in sketchbooks and traded dreams like we were sewing our own little world together.
"If you could have one superpower, what would it be?" she once asked while munching on candy.
I answered proudly, "To bring the dead back to life... so no one would ever lose someone they love."
She laughed and said, "That's the saddest thing I've ever heard... but it's beautiful."
Then—one day, as we walked to school—gunfire tore through our morning.
A single shot.
I saw her head jolt, a drop of blood leaping into the air as if trying to escape fate.
She collapsed. Everything after that was a blur.
I cradled her head in my lap, the asphalt beneath us warm with her blood, my eyes locked onto her fading face.
I whispered her name, over and over.
She opened her eyes with great effort. Her voice was barely a breath:
"Don't worry... I won't die... You'll bring me back, right?"
Then... her eyes closed.
Forever.
---
Everything stopped after that.
It felt like my soul was ripped from my body.
When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in the middle of a ruined city. Buildings crumbled in silence, the sky sealed by a black barrier, as if night had decided to swallow everything whole.
My hands were dripping with blood. My clothes torn. And my eyes?… Glowing red.
I looked up.
A man dressed in black stood atop the dark dome, as if he'd been watching me for eternity.
Who was he? I didn't know.
Then—
I collapsed.
---
My name is Arin Cruz.
But no one calls me that here.
In this cold, white, silent place—where the walls reflect artificial light and choke all feeling—I'm just a number.
No.0
When I first woke up, the room was so quiet I could hear my own heartbeat.
Thin tubes were buried in my skin, pumping clear liquid into my veins. Monitors blinked with data I didn't understand. Above me, a harsh white light that never turned off.
No windows. No voices. No people.
Just machines—and distant whispers.
All I remembered... was my promise to her.
Her face.
Her blood.
---
Time passed—or at least, something that felt like time—while I was trapped within these walls. No windows to mark day or night. Only the white ceiling and the silence.
Then... came the children.
Kids my age, maybe younger. Dragged in one by one, wide-eyed and trembling, all wearing the same gray clothes, like identical copies of the same tragedy.
One day, I heard Dr. Hayden—a tall, bald man in a white lab coat and thick glasses—speaking with another man in a black suit and a hat that concealed half his face:
"Emoticas... creatures born from human emotions at their peak—grief, rage, terror."
The other replied coldly, "Psychic weapons. That's what we've become."
---
One day, a small boy entered my room. His eyes were filled with tears, lips trembling.
He whispered, "Will... will it hurt a lot?"
I sat quietly, then said gently, "I don't know... but I'll stay with you. I promise."
He smiled shyly, as if my words were the first warmth he'd felt in days.
But that smile didn't last.
Hayden returned and injected him with a drop of my blood.
Within seconds, his body convulsed, veins flaring under his skin. He screamed like nothing I'd ever heard before, and then... everything went still.
Just a stain of blood.
Then he vanished.
---
Hundreds of children. Hundreds of moments.
And every time, I would reach out my hand: "Will you be my friend?"
And every time, my hand came back empty.
---
I don't feel anything anymore.
No pain. No fear. No tears.
Only a voice whispering deep inside me—a terrifying question:
"How many children must die... before I become a monster?"