I. closed my eyes and began.
"There was this friend," I said slowly, the memories dragging me backward. "Someone I loved. Adored. We were close
or at least I thought we were. I gave her everything: attention, gifts, time. I wanted her to feel valued. I thought that meant something."
My fists tightened.
"But then… one day I was beaten down, bullied. I was at my lowest, and I turned to her, hoping she'd be there. Instead, she looked me in the eye and said, 'I was never your friend. You're just a tool to me.'"
The silence that followed felt heavy. Those words still cut into me like glass, still tore through my ribs like bullets.
Joyce's eyes widened, horrified. "That's horrible. But Johnson… is that really enough to break you like this?"
I snapped. My voice fell to a whisper.
"I couldn't save them… I wasn't fast enough. I can run across the entire city, but when it mattered most… I wasn't fast enough to save the one person I cared about."
Tears streamed down, hot and bitter.
"Why am I the only one suffering? Why do I have this speed, this power… and still fail? What's the point of it all?"
A fracture split across the side of my mask, mirroring the one in my heart. For the first time, I didn't hide my face. For the first time, I let it show...my self-hatred.
Then, something unexpected...a warmth. Joyce's presence, her voice steady but soft.
"It's okay, Johnson. It's okay to feel pain. You couldn't save her, but it wasn't your fault. Still… you and her weren't that close, were you? Tell me...what really happened?"
Her questions poured out, sincere yet confused.
I thought bitterly, How could she understand? Nobody is meant to understand me. Yet, I spoke anyway.
"Well… it happened like this…"
It happened when I was still in junior high school. I was only eight years old when it began.
The classroom smelled faintly of chalk and wet paint, a small humming world of desks and sunlight. I remember the way the light hit the drifting dust, golden specks floating above the rows while Miss Armitage stood at the front with that expectant smile she always wore before asking one of her "big" questions.
"Who's the first official President of the United States? And what year was it called the United States?" Her voice was bright, like an open window you could step through if you knew the right answer.
Before I could even think, my hand was already raised. My skin prickled with that small, hot thrill of being seen. History had always meant more to me than anything that smelled of glue and sweat. I loved the certainty of dates and names.
But before I could speak, Derrik's voice cut across the room, sharp as gravel. "Who do you think you are, answering questions here?" Fandis laughed beside him, sneering as he called me a "shrimp idiot."
Miss Armitage's face changed. With uncharacteristic sternness, she pointed at them and ordered them out of the room.
Left standing alone in that fluorescent light, I finally spoke what I knew. "The first official President of the United States was George Washington. He took office on April 30, 1789. The country was officially called the United States of America in the Declaration of Independence, on July 4, 1776, but the Constitution was ratified in 1788, so the government under the Constitution began its work in 1789."
The words arranged themselves with ease, like building blocks I had laid out the night before.
Miss Armitage clapped, her eyes wide in surprise. The class followed her, clapping as well, the noise swelling like a small wave that made my heart pound against my ribs. For a fleeting moment, I felt big, like a kite catching the wind.
When the bell rang, I was still humming with that applause. Walking through the corridor lined with lockers, I felt lighter than I had in a long time. Bella walked up to me, so close I could see the freckles on her cheeks.
"I would advise you, John, to start running," she whispered.
I laughed, thinking it was a game. "Don't worry. I'll be fine. Besides, I have you as my only friend. Nothing bad is gonna happen, right?"
She smiled at first. Then, suddenly, she slapped me—hard enough to sting—before walking away. My smile froze in place, awkward and brittle. That slap was a small, confusing thunderclap. "It's okay," I told myself quietly, though it felt like I was telling someone else. "If you slap me, I don't care. As long as she's my friend, it's okay."
But Derrick and Fandis were waiting.
"Hey Johnson, I need your help," Derrik said with a false politeness.
"Sure," I replied. I only wanted to make things right. I only wanted friends.
"It's our turn to sweep the class roster today," Fandis added, grinning. "But we don't feel like doing it. You do it for us and we'll be friends, yeah?"
I ran to grab the broom and mop like it was the easiest task in the world. Sweeping, packing dust into the pan, then mopping, I felt proud of being useful. The water in the bucket turned muddy, the color of my sneakers after rain puddles, but I tried my best to keep it neat.
Then Derrik, with cruel theatrics, scattered the dust back across the floor. "Are you even cleaning at all?" he sneered.
"I'll show you how to clean," Fandis laughed.
Before I realized what was happening, Derrick grabbed my hair and shoved my head into the dirty mop bucket. Cold water flooded my mouth as I choked. He dragged my curls across the floor as if my head were the mop itself. Laughter erupted around me.
"Use your tongue to clean the floor," Derrick ordered.
Heat burned across my face, shame sinking into my skin. And yet, I obeyed, because I did not know any other way to stop the storm. They stripped me, laughing, taking pictures as they drenched me in the filthy water before shoving me back into my clothes. Phones chimed. Fingers pointed.
When it was finally over, I smiled. I always smiled; it was easier than anything else. "Are you guys going to be my friends now? I did everything you asked."
Derrik's fist slammed into me. Twice. "Are you stupid?"
The blows became endless...punches, kicks, names thrown at me like knives. Parasite. Worthless. Waste of DNA. Their words tore through me as Felix whispered about my parents, the cruelest truth of all. "They blew themselves up."
Something inside me cracked.
Still, I curled into myself, apologizing again and again because it felt like the only weapon I had.
Eventually, they left me there....wet, broken, phones flashing as the world captured my humiliation.
When Rose found me, her small voice trembled. "Big brother, where are you?"
I wanted to say I was fine. I wanted to protect her from the sight of me. So I smiled and patted her head. "I was just playing some games with my friends," I lied, because lies were easier to swallow than the truth.
She helped me home, holding me steady like I was a broken toy. That night, I slept with the ache under my throat, their laughter tucked under my pillow.
The next day, the school became an arena. Garbage stuffed in my locker. Fingers pointing. "Trash boy!" Derrick shouted. The crowd erupted.
I moved like a hollow shell.
Desperate, I sought out Bella. My voice trembled. "I wanted to apologize for not listening yesterday. I don't know what I should do so we can be friends again. I'm happy you're still my friend."
Her face turned cold. She slapped me again, harder than before. "You are not my friend."
The crowd recorded it all.
"I was only close to you because you were the smartest," she spat. "I used you for answers. I pitied you because you lost your parents."
Her words carved me hollow. "But I said I liked you," I whispered.
" can't we still be friends at least..."
"I don't want to be your friend. I hate you, Johnson. I really do."
She turned and walked away, sanitizing her hands in front of me. That final gesture broke me more than the words.
My hand reached toward her without permission. "Don't go."
But she did.
I stood in that hallway, empty, while phones hummed and the world moved on without me.
I sighed and looked up, pulled back to reality by Joyce's voice. Her eyes brimmed with tears as she sobbed bitterly.
"How cruel. How really cruel. It must have been hard on you, hasn't it, Johnny?" she whispered, pressing my head to her chest.
Her warmth broke the silence I had carried for years.
"So what did you do when you found out Bella died?" she finally asked.
I pressed my face against her breasts, my voice muffled.
"And aren't you going to take it off?" she asked quietly.
I hesitated. Did I truly trust her? Then, with a sigh, I answered. "If you want me to remove my mask, it means I really, really trust you. And you really, really trust me. Do you?"
"Yes, I do. And I love you too. I really hope you can see that," Joyce replied with certainty.
"Unmasking user, user emotional status: 0%," Jake announced as the mask fell away.
Johnson is beautiful. That was the only thought Joyce could form as she gazed at me. My hair shone pure white, my skin smooth and unmarred. But it was my eyes they were rainbow-colored, with a translucent blue holding all the shades together that struck her most. It was a face beyond words, more beautiful than any mask could conceal.
But I did not believe her. In my heart, I expected only to be called ugly. I sighed inwardly. "So what more questions do you have?"
"Well, what did you do when you lost Bella? You never answered," Joyce asked again.
"I was sad. At first, I couldn't even forgive myself. Not being able to save someone with the kind of ability I have… I shouldn't be allowed to exist in this world." I sat up, facing her, my voice heavy.
"Don't say that. You are a hero, just like I am. Many people are alive because of what you did that day you beat Evolve. Someone who threatened all of Texas. That alone is more than enough reason to be happy," Joyce said, her voice soft but firm.
"It's not," I snapped, frustration cracking my voice. "I don't want to live in a world where people are dying because of me. I move at the speed of light, yet I couldn't save someone. She might have been a bully, but she wasn't a bad person. It's my fault. It's always my fault. I don't deserve to live. Instead of living, I tried to do what I had to do… but I couldn't die. No matter what I did, this stupid watch kept me alive!"
I broke down, frustration spilling out of me.
"What do you mean you tried to die too many times but your watch kept you alive?" Joyce asked, confusion in her voice.
"I don't know how, but whatever I do that's lethal, I just… adapt to it. Because of this stupid device," I muttered, pointing at the watch.
"I see. It's like a system then?" Joyce murmured. "But why, Johnson? Why did you try to kill yourself? Were you depressed?"
"Of course I was. Hell yeah, I was. But I didn't want anyone around me to know how depressed I was. So I decided to leave without telling anyone. Not that they would care anyway…" I paused, staring into her eyes before finishing.