Chapter 11

"Fuck off!"

Mentally swiping them away, he continued pummeling.

Even when the hysterical strength left his arms, even when the adrenaline ran out and the pain finally made itself known, no longer able to be ignored, he didn't stop.

The edges of his vision darkened, his sight slowly shrank. Then he started hearing things. First, it began as a chuckle, then snickering, and before long, it was full-on laughter. It reminded him of the day his mother took him to her comedy special.

He was in the front row and all he could hear was the audience erupting into laughter as she told her jokes, him laughing alongside them. It was one of the happiest memories he had of her until the accident. But this time was different; he knew they weren't laughing with him but at him.

Something wet trickled down his face. Sweat, of course. It had to be sweat.

He didn't care. He continued pummeling, even though his strength had long left his arms, and somewhere along the way, the transformation had unraveled.

He finally stilled, panting, his heart thumped violently against his chest. He felt everything—from the ache in his arms to the cuts on his chest to the gash on his side and the headache that rendered thoughts useless. He felt it all.

Something snapped him out of his daze. Just outside the store, something was calling out to him. He knew this voice. He had heard it a thousand times.

'Th-that's impossible.'

He dragged a foot forward, stumbling a bit before crashing into the floor.

'Move, goddammit, move. I don't have time for this.'

His legs refused to listen, no longer able to take the abuse. Roller skating, especially when your feet function as the wheels, wasn't easy. And with the running around and haphazard rolling he was doing, it was no wonder they gave out.

Seeing no other choice, he dug a hand into the gaps between the tiles. Fingernails finally finding purchase, he pulled himself forward. Then he used his other hand to grip the gaps and pulled himself forward again. It was painfully slow; his nails dug hard into the cement, even starting to bleed a little. He entered a rhythm, and before he knew it, he was fully crawling.

He knew he shouldn't. In fact, he couldn't. He was hurt, one look downwards confirmed it. His usually dark skin was painted with shades of green and red, littered with cuts and bruises galore. Fractured and broken bones made themselves known, torn skin and purple bruises so dark they could be mistaken for tattoos, also appeared all over.

By all accounts, he shouldn't even be able to lift a finger. Neither his body nor mind was in any shape for...well anything. His body even going as far as to make it especially clear by sending waves of pain throughout.

The closer he got, the more the laughter and pain grew. It was like they were in conjunction with each other, each competing to cause him as much agony as possible.

Pain couldn't even begin to describe what he was feeling, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. Whatever that thing was, he wanted–no, Needed it! He pressed on. Crawling until he made it out the entrance, he didn't stop moving.

The floor was freezing and the noise unbearable. He was now seeing double, his vision almost fully engulfed in darkness.

He wanted it all to stop, desperately craving the endless sleep he knew awaited him at the end.

It was pointless. He knew he wasn't making it out of this mall alive, he had signed his death warrant by stepping foot here and the laughter only confirmed his suspicions.

He hated it. The mocking laughter, the endless pain, dark thoughts plagued him.

'It's hopeless, just give up. Why bother? Just rest. You deserve it, don't you?'

He ignored them all. It wasn't that he didn't want to, but like a possessed man, he was physically unable.

Nonetheless, he crawled. And before long, he reached the source.

He felt something wet drip down his ears as he beheld it—the egg. Although this time, it was different. It no longer resembled the slimy, wet tumor it looked like before.

No, now it was the burger he had been craving since he woke up, or the Coca-Cola he grew up on, the late nights he spent with his mom, them rehearsing the jokes she'd tell on her special. The time she took him to an amusement park after his first heartbreak, his 1st-grade girlfriend leaving him for a faster boy.

The images flashed through his mind non-stop. Everything he'd ever wanted laid right there. And all he had to do was accept it.

It shone a bright white light and shrunk into a marble. It resembled the miracle pill his mom used to give him whenever he was sick. And oh how sick he was, the pill was all he needed to heal himself.

Andre raised his hand toward it, opening it to grasp the marble before clenching it into a fist. With the final vestige of strength he had left, he slammed down.

'No. No more… no… more.'

The laughter abruptly stopped. Darkness overtook his vision, its slow crawl now transformed into a full on sprint. The mall, alongside everything inside, greedily taken.

In the dark, he was alone. It was cold, and he only had his shallow breaths to accompany him.

Screens popped up in his vision.

[Brood embryo defeated!]

[Congratulations, you have reached Level 15]

[Classes unlocked.]

[Ability evolutions available.]

[Error! Error! Due to dire circumstances, forceful evolution activated!]

[Most optimal evolution chosen!]

[Caution! Caution! User is advised to brace themselves]

The obsidian screens played in his vision. Letters swam everywhere, he couldn't make sense of a single word. His brain felt like shutting down, something he accepted with open arms.

He had no more fight left in him, thoughts muddled down into nothing. He felt hollow, weak, with no energy, no strength, nothing left to call upon. His eyes closed, and the darkness swallowed him too.

...

"Andre, Andre… oh gods, Andre Sinclair. Get your ass off that bed now!"

I woke up in a cold sweat. The blankets flew off as I sat upright.

"It's 10 am, and you're still in bed. Don't tell me you forgot."

I looked on incredulously, disbelief apparent on my face.

A giant woman was staring me down. She was black and looked vaguely of Caribbean descent. She had long dreadlocks, ones that numbered in the two hundreds. She wore a black dress and had her hands folded across her chest with a furious expression; clearly not in a good mood.

"Mo-Mom?"

The words felt foreign leaving my throat, they were similar to mine but lacked the particular depth I grew used to since puberty.

'Wait, puberty?'

I raised my hands to my face only to see a tiny pair of hands staring back at me. Like a dead fish, my mouth gaped open in disbelief.

Bringing my attention back to the matter at hand, my eyes tracked back to her. A brief expression of worry flashed across her face before quickly disappearing back into rage.

"Don't mom me. Go take a shower, you stink. We have 20 minutes before we leave. If you're not ready by then, me and you are having words."

Her tone making it perfectly clear the only words I'd be having is a belt named 'words' whipped at my behind.

"Yes ma'am, give me five minutes."

Her enraged expression scrunched up into disgust.

"Five minutes? Five minutes!! Disgusting. You're ten now, double digits for god's sake! Don't make me have to wash you myself."

My body instinctively shivered at the thought. Of all the memories I had of her bathing me as a child, I knew she was anything but gentle during bath time.

"Sorry, ma. I just meant I wouldn't take too long, haha."

Silence flooded the room. The playful laugh I made in an attempt to soften the mood fell flat. Although not completely, as she allowed a tiny smile onto her face, not one of joy but of pity.

"Just… just get ready. You can't miss this."

She half-whispered towards the end, taking on a more somber note. She paused for a bit after before quietly leaving.

Sliding the blanket off completely, I stepped onto my bedroom floor. And onto a Lego piece.

"Damn it."

I raised the foot up to see a small bruise.

Massaging it to ease the pain, I took a more careful look around the room.

The place was a mess, toys and crumbs of food were scattered everywhere. The TV was on and playing "SquareBob," my favorite show as a kid.

To my right was an open closet with nothing but a small black suit hanging on the bar.

"Black suit? Wait, I know this suit. I wore it on the day of…"

As if a dam had broken in my mind, the memories came flooding back.

"The funeral"