Gavin always felt that he was pretty good at keeping control. Often times, he'd just have to resort to deep breaths to ward off an accident, or even leave the room and calm down outside. He had very little knowledge of what would actually happen if he were to let all of that pent up energy and emotion out, but instinct told him it was bad.
He knew that something was wrong. No other kids in his grade seemed to have much trouble keeping their emotions under control, and no one else was put out of commission if they got too upset or angry or, god forbid, happy. Panic was the worst, though- panic sent him into shocks that felt like he was roasting on the inside, as if all of his troubles would be released in the form of heat energy if he so much as dared to unclench his hands.
That was exactly how it had felt, when his life went to Hell.
"What did you just say?" She sounded stunned, horrified, even. "Gavvy, repeat that, please."
"I just don't get it. What's so bad about them anyway? I think it's coo-"
"Sweetheart. They're mutants. They're monsters. You don't understand, at your age."
"But I do! There's nothing wrong with them. They're not dangerous, or anything; they don't have to be."
"Gavin. We don't talk like that. The government is just doing what they can to keep us safe, and this is the best way. Those creatures at least need to be locked away, off the streets."
He couldn't listen. Would she think of him that way? Does she think her own son is some creature to be locked up? He felt the all too familiar feeling of fire in his chest. He's confused and upset and generally disoriented. If she knew... would she kick him out? Would she turn him in? He's only fourteen, for Pete's sake!
"Gavin, look at me. I need to know that you understand." ... "Gavin." She took his hand, a bit forcefully. An innocent gesture. But one that he just couldn't handle in such a sensitive moment.
He doesn't even remember it, hardly. Just vague memories of screams and crying, mostly from himself. Heat all around him. Sirens. The running. The neverending slap of his feet on the pavement. He had never run so fast in his life. He was on his own. They were both dead, his house was gone, his life was over, and it was all his fault.
She was right. He should just be locked up, for everyone's safety.
