The Weight of Choices

"So, Cassian, I'm giving you two options," The man's voice is calm but carries a weight that makes the air around me feel heavier.

"The first option is simple—I send you to a maximum security prison because you're a superhuman who's been using your powers recklessly. Or, I can help you get tested and enrolled in a superhuman academy. A place where you'll be trained, guided, and given the chance to use your abilities for something meaningful."

He pauses, his gaze softening as he adds, "And for your information, I'm only giving you this option because you're still a kid. You've got a bright future ahead of you, and I'd hate to see it wasted."

I look into the man's eyes and, for the first time, I see something I didn't expect—empathy. It's a look that's almost paternal, as if he genuinely cares about what happens to me. I can't remember the last time anyone looked at me like that, with concern rather than disappointment or disdain.

"Seems like I don't have many options in my current situation," I think to myself, weighing the gravity of his words.

I take a deep breath and say, "Can you give me some time to think about it?"

His eyes narrow slightly in confusion, like he's trying to figure out what there is to consider. "I don't think there's much for you to think about. One option leads to a dead-end, the other to a chance at something better. But I'll give you two days to decide. In the meantime, I'll have my men surveilling you 24 hours a day, just to make sure you stay out of trouble."

He turns to his subordinates, signaling them to escort me out. As I'm about to leave, I stop and turn back, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"How should I address you, sir?"

The man looks at me, a slight smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "I'm Lieutenant Marcus Hale, but just call me Officer Marc."

With that, the door shuts behind me, and before I know it, I'm back on the streets of Shadowhaven. The sight of my drunk old man sprawled on the sofa, oblivious to the world, greets me as I walk through the door. I tiptoe past him, careful not to disturb his alcohol-induced slumber, and make my way to my bedroom. Exhaustion hits me like a ton of bricks, and I collapse onto my bed, passing out almost instantly.

When I wake up, the sun is already high in the sky. It's 1:00 p.m., and the events of last night feel like a distant dream, but the ache in my muscles reminds me it was all too real.

As I head downstairs, I hear a hoarse, grumbling voice from the living room. "You finally woke up! Kids these days sleep all day and don't even go to work to help out their family."

My father, in all his drunken glory, has managed to rouse himself from the couch, though he looks as untidy as ever. His eyes are bloodshot, and the stench of alcohol clings to him like a second skin. It's a bad time for me if I say the wrong thing—he might unleash his rage on me like he has so many times before.

"Good afternoon, Father. Have you eaten? I'm heading out soon, so don't worry about me."

He grunts, barely acknowledging my presence before barking another order. "Wait! I know you're just heading out to roam around the city. Since you've got the time, cover my shift at Aunt Cass's place. And when you're back, don't forget to bring some beers."

He turns back to the television, the conversation already forgotten. It's clear he's more interested in his next drink than in anything I have to say. Arguing would only make things worse, so I nod and respond, "Yes, I understand."

Aunt Cass's restaurant is just across the street. She's been a lifeline for our family ever since my mother passed away, and even though I'm only there to cover my father's shifts, I feel a strange sense of duty to her. My mother's death changed everything—my father fell into a deep depression, lost his job, and sank deeper into alcoholism. Aunt Cass has been the only stable figure in my life since then, and working at her restaurant feels like a small way to repay her kindness.

As I step into the restaurant, I'm greeted by Aunt Cass's sharp, but sweet voice. "Isn't this little Cassian? Why are you here? Let me guess, that bastard sent you to cover his shift again, didn't he?"

I laugh awkwardly, trying to brush off her anger. "Haha… Yeah."

Her face hardens with irritation. "Let me go over there and teach him some lessons!"

I quickly step in, holding her back. "It's okay, Aunt Cass. It's also a way for me to repay your kindness for taking care of us all this time."

Aunt Cass sighs, her anger subsiding. "Alright, if you say so. Go grab your apron and start working. There'll be more customers coming soon."

I nod and head to the back to get ready. Aunt Cass's restaurant is a local favorite, known for its hearty meals and welcoming atmosphere. Every day, it's filled with customers, and it's become a staple in the neighborhood. My job—well, my father's job—is washing dishes. As I scrub the plates and cutlery, my mind drifts back to Officer Marc's offer.

The choice seems obvious—enroll in the academy. But it doesn't feel right for me. The academy has too many rules, too many restrictions. I'm not like the superheroes on TV who bring hope to the city. If anything, I'm more like the villains they fight against. Maybe it would be better if they just locked me up in prison. The thought makes me chuckle, a bitter laugh that echoes in the quiet of the kitchen.

Time passes quickly, and before I know it, it's almost 9 p.m. I'm finishing up my work when I hear a familiar voice from the front of the restaurant. It's a man, with his black hair tied up in a bun—it's Officer Marc. My heart skips a beat. What's he doing here? Has he come to check up on me?

I walk over to Aunt Cass, trying to keep my voice steady. "Aunt Cass, I'll take care of this customer. You can go and rest."

She gives me a confused look but nods. "Umm, okay."

I approach Officer Marc, who's sitting at the counter with a smile on his face. "Looks like you're well-behaved today," he says, amusement in his tone.

"So you're the one you said you'd send to surveil me?" I ask, trying to keep my voice neutral.

"Haha, you caught me. Let's have this conversation outside. I don't want people eavesdropping on us."

We step out into the cool night air, finding a dark, secluded spot away from prying eyes. The tension is palpable, but Officer Marc's demeanor remains calm.

"So why'd you come to the restaurant?" I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.

"To be honest, I wanted to check up on you, see what you're up to. And, of course, to grab a meal," he replies, his tone light but sincere.

"So, have you made a decision yet? My advice, based on what I've seen today, is that you should choose the academy." There's a genuine concern in his voice, a tone that's hard to ignore.

"I…" I start to respond, but before I can finish, a loud explosion rocks the street. The sound comes from the direction of Aunt Cass's restaurant, and my heart stops.

"Aunt Cass!" I scream, panic overtaking me as I turn and sprint toward the source of the explosion. The world blurs around me, but all I can think about is Aunt Cass—her voice, her warmth, her kindness. I can't lose her too.