This most certainly is an estranged world, and an unfair one at that. People like me aren’t accepted in regular society. I am single, always have been, probably always will be. I have no friends, and haven’t since I was thirteen. And it’s all because of these god damned powers that I didn’t even ask for. And to think that I was a normal boy for thirteen years then BAM! Like a ton of bricks it all came down.

I remember it like it had happened only a few hours ago, December 7th, 2003, I sat eagerly on our old couch retrieved from a dumpster two years prior. I wait for my mother to bring me my presents, “There you are,” she says, I snatch the presents away from her with almost an animal instinct, I tore into the colorful paper with two hands. Inside is a box, hurriedly I take off the lid, there are books, all the ones I wanted. Then all my friends gather around to examine my gift. I was overtaken with excitement, and it felt like there was something building up inside me. The energy is released, I see a huge, fiery explosion, the people around me are turned to charred skeletons, warm blood splashes my face. Neighbors called police, they all call me a “child murderer”. Luckily the cops acknowledge it was an accident and don’t send me to jail. But none of my other relatives will take me in, no matter how much they loved me, they were too afraid they would meet the same fate as my friends, and my mother.

It is unanimous, I am to be sent to an orphanage. My aunt is the one who takes me, she informs the watcher of children of my “abilities”, and they hold a public gathering to introduce Rasputin Write, the Pyrokentic Freak. I was once again in a state of exile, although it didn’t matter as much,these kids were strangers, unlike my family. Five years I spent there until I was “fit for the outside world”, bullshit. I was no different from five years prior, hell if I was any different it was my hatred for the society that had shunned me.

My hate was not soothed by the fact that they just threw me out into the world, they didn’t care, no one did. With no real world experience it was very hard to find a suitable job. Most turned me down before the interview was over because of my pyrokenesis, and of course what happened five years prior. No where to turn I end up with a dead end job at a news stand very, very bad choice. A job out in public where they can all see my orange patch with the flame on it sewn to my Domo-kun jacket signifying that I have pyrokenesis. I felt like a Jew during World War II.

The cramped apartment that was mandatory for psychics was not a fun place to live, especially it’s in an apartment complex mostly populated by normal humans. However, there is another psychic who possess invisibility, she’s lucky. Don’t see her around much for obvious reasons. She’s a good person, the on;y thing that I don’t like about her is that she gives me sympathy for what happened five years ago. I already have enough sympathy for a whole season of Dr. Phil.

As I walked from my apartment to the news stand I received the usual hate, people made fun of me, threw things at me and even hit me. The whole time I resisted the urge snap my fingers and boil the water in their body. An extremely horrible way to die, skin red, blistered, slowly dying from 100 degree heat in their body. Truly horrible.

I was at least two blocks from my news stand when I hear a woman screaming from the alley to the right of me. I look down the dark crevice in between the buildings and see a man with a knife threatening a woman at least ten years younger than him. What were his intentions? Mugging? Murder? Rape? No matter I walk down the alley as loud as possible attempting to make the man hear me. He let’s go of the woman’s collar, she toppled onto the ground. The man turns toward me, I stop, he raises his knife. “You better get the fuck out of here you psychic piece o’ shit, this is my piece of ass.” I take my right hand out of my pocket and snap setting the man’s coat on fire. He screams then takes off his coat and stamps out the fire.

“That’s it you psychic fuck you die!” The man charges at me, I snap my fingers and the knife becomes white hot, and is reduced to liquid that oozes onto the ground eating away at the concrete. “O-Oh shit,” he says. I snap again, the man cringes in pain, his skin turns red, and blistered, he topples onto the ground as the water in his body comes to a boil. I snap for the final time, he is set ablaze. The woman is gone, hopefully thankful for my act of heroism.

I walked the two blocks to the news stand, there is already a line beginning to form, I was late, my boss would dock my pay, no matter it was irrelevant how much money I make. I get there and a punk with a knot top and a Job for a Cowboy shirt, “About time, Fire Starter,” he says mocking my misfortune.

“Go away.” I respond with discontent.

“What the fuck did you say to me, Fire Starter?”

“I said: ‘Go away’, there was trouble, come back when everything is in order. Besides, we aren’t even open yet.” The punk doesn’t take kindly to my smart ass remark and punches me in the face, I tumble backwards and into the news stand, the wood crumples underneath my body as the magazines newspapers and comics rain down on top of me.

“I’m out of here!” the punk says, luckily he lives up to the promise, he laughs as he leaves and the people behind him laugh as well and leave. I get up soreness all over my body, I come to the conclusion that since there is no news stand that I can take the day off.

I open the door to my apartment and collapse onto my bed, as my eyes start to close there is a brutal kick and wood snapping. I feel two hands grasp the back of my jacket and pull me to my feet, a plastic baton smashes me in the head, this gives me a headache, however, I am still conscious. I snap setting one of the men on fire, he starts rolling on the floor screaming. The man holding me grabs my middle finger and breaks it, not allowing me to snap. He hits me two more times over the head with the baton, I am unconscious.

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