Doubt

"You honestly expect me to believe that?" scoffed the lady.

Grountin spoke plainly, "Whether or not you believe me does not change the truth."

"Whatever," she snidely remarked. "It still doesn't explain why I keep seeing you around town."

"Well, the first time was merely coincidence," he explained. "After that, I kept getting the feeling that you were special somehow."

She laughed, "Hehehe! You must say that to all the ladies... and get none of them! Hehe!"

"I'm serious! There's something off about you, but in a good way!" Grountin swore to her.

She looked at her hands in deep thought, then replied apathetically, "You have no idea what you're talking about. Leave me alone."

As she walked away, Grountin stormed after her and shouted, "Hold on!" He grabbed her arm and gazed into her red eyes with his yellow ones...

"What are you doing?! Get off me!" she screamed.

As she ran away, Grountin was overcome by the strange turn of events. He thought he could peer into others' souls to find their weaknesses, but this woman only had one real fear: doubt.

"Why does she want to be alone if that's all?" he wondered privately. "Either my power just failed me or there's something really weird about this one."

Grountin waited by the place he saw her the first time he did so. She did not show the entire day.

"Strange," he mused to himself before he heard his stomach rumbling. "I guess it has been a while," he muttered under his breath.

Grountin knew that he had no money and, thus, no means of procuring food without being branded a criminal. He tried to find a job at first, but nobody wanted to hire an out-of-house, school dropout teenager with no work experience from a town where everybody hates him and some would openly accuse him of murder. He quit trying, but his stomach did not. At one point, his stomach got very loud when close to a power plant; like it would if one could smell a buffet nearby.

The next day, he waited again for her, searched again for a job, and even attempted panhandling this time; all to no avail beyond $0.63.

"Not even enough for a vending machine," he whispered to himself.

"Hey, you!" hollered a stranger. "No panhandling! It's against the law here. If I catch you again, I'm calling the authorities!"

Grountin apologized, "My bad. I didn't know. I'm new here."

"I don't care! Don't do it again or else!" callously replied the stranger.

Grountin slept at a bus stop for the fifth night in a row with no food, no friends, nor comfort. This particular bus stop was near some power lines, somehow activating his appetite.

The next day, more of the same insanity: no lady, no job, no food. He bumped into random strangers just to see what random people feared. At one point, due to all the contact with others, his skin began turning blue uncontrollably, seemingly having reached its limit. He kept in mind the chemistry teacher's theoretical fear and decided to try planting his feet in the dirt to discharge; it worked.

"Phew!" Grountin exhaled in relief. He did not mind sending people to a better place, but he did want to be in control of it.

The next day, nearly the exact repetitive set of failures occurred as the days before. However, Grountin did collide with somebody possessing an auspicious fear: the fear of being caught as a rapist.

Grountin felt like something had to be done. He told the authorities in an anonymous tip, but without proof, they could do nothing. He followed the man around town and warned random people associated with the man; they could not believe somebody like that guy; short in stature, middle-aged, balding, green hair fading as white as his skin color, always smiling; would do such a thing. They thought it more likely that the black-skinned purple-haired boy was making trouble for no good reason. Grountin decided to take matters into his own hands.

He followed the man afraid of detection to his own inhabitance, a duplex apartment building in decent condition within a complex of multiple identical structures. After the man went inside, Grountin took a peer inside his window and saw a rape incident occur... before the outside lights nearly blinded him and the man stepped outside his home to approach him.

"Who the hell are ya?!" the alleged rapist boomed.

Grountin shrugged, "Uh, I guess just a vigilante here to stop you from raping somebody."

"What?!" the man protested. "I would never do that! You can ask anybody who knows me!"

Grountin sighed, "I already did."

"Good." Grountin heard a pistol cock before being told, "So you know everybody would think that I would be acting in self-defense if I ended our discussion with a little target practice, right?"

"Truly pitiful. If you're so innocent, why even choose to attack? Prove your innocence and be done. Unless you really are a rapist and this is to cover your tracks," Grountin argued.

"Ugh, fine, if you insist, dirtbag!" the man begrudgingly acknowledged his point and stowed his weapon. "Come inside, why doncha?"

Inside the duplex, Grountin saw the rape incident paused on screen.

"Hey," the man said quietly, "I am allowed to fantasize, alright? Maybe this is why you think I'm a rapist, but this is perfectly reasonable." Before continuing the tour of the house, the man asked, "Why did you accuse me of rape in the first place?"

Grountin replied morosely, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"I just let a perfect stranger into my house after he accused me of a heinous crime. I seem kinda gullible! Harharhar!" the man self-depricated. "I'm Phil, by the way."

"Grountin," he said, extending his hand to shake the one reaching for it. "I get a vibe from people about their fears. Yours was being found out for rape. But even after shaking your han-"

The gun cocked again, pointed at Grountin's head.

"That's a mighty scary ability you have there, vibing people out like that," Phil muttered.

Grountin asked, annoyedly, "Where's the lady?"

"Why do ya care? Ya 'bouta die! Harharhar!" Phil cackled.

"We both know your other fear; which means we both know you won't shoot," Grountin remarked matter-of-factly.

"Pshaw! What's that?" Phil asked with excessive doubt.

"Your neighbor terrifies you. Once they hear that gunshot, you're going to have to deal with them in some way. Maybe have another NDA signed. Why didn't you just move?" Grountin speculated.

"I was going to, but there was a lot of paperwork filed against me for things I didn't really do," Phil explained, "plus, financially-speaking, it wasn't the righ- aw!"

Grountin knocked the gun to the left and tried to punch with his right; but without any true combat experience, was incapable of matching Phil's movements. Phil took a proper boxing stance, bouncing off the balls of his feet in the direction of his dropped handgun, but never bothered to bend downward to grab it; he kicked it out of Grountin's reach, however.

"I took classes at the gym, y'know. Let's see whatcha got!" Phil challenged Grountin.

Grountin tried again to hit Phil with a right haymaker, but a simple pivot was enough to have Grountin fall forward onto his face. Phil practically pounced in a split second, being the supreme opportunist he was. He took his time unnecessarily winding a punch out of pride with a devious smirk stretched across his face. Phil finally struck Grountin's jaw; hard.

Grountin finally awoke, his jaw bruised and dislocated, his knees in pain from the fall, and truly wondering if this was the end for him. He viewed his surroundings slowly, in fear of being hit again for moving too suddenly; a thing he was taught discipline for doing. He and one other person were tied to chairs with tape to secure them effectively in the basement.

"Finally! I found her!" Grountin happily thought to himself, briefly forgetting the bleak predicament in which they were together.

Phil chuckled, "Harharhar! Looks like glassjaw is finally back! Did you enjoy the boxing lesson, punk?"

"No, I didn't," Grountin answered sincerely, barely able to be interpreted by Phil due to the adhesive strapped across his lips.

"Dude, it was rhetori- aw, forget it!" Phil said disappointedly. "You're right about the gun and my neighbor: just ain't worth it. So we're gonna use knives! High five, man!" Phil stuck his hand in Grountin's direction despite being fully aware that Grountin was fastened to wooden furniture with his wrists bound by tape behind his back. "Too slow!" he teased after holding it in front of Grountin for more than two minutes. "Don't worry about her though," Phil assured Grountin, "because I'm keeping her alive. She's gonna be my wife, whether she likes it or not! I think I'm starting to make her like it though, right, babe?"

"Nuh-unh!" she fiercely denied without being able to anunciate.

"See?" Phil asked with extreme passion and a crazed gleam in his eyes. "She wanted to say yes, she just couldn't 'cause of the tape covering her mouth. It's not really rape."

"Mm mmhmm mm mmhmm?" Grountin asked.

Phil grunted, "Ergh, fine! I'll let you talk as long as you don't scream!"

He undid the tape over Grountin's mouth so Grountin repeated himself, "Then why is her mouth taped?"

"Ee-ya-ugh! Fine! Everybody can talk!" he yelled just quiet enough to not have to deal with his neighbor.

As soon as her lips were freed, the woman screamed, "Help! Somebody help!"

"I'll help ya, babe! Hold on! What do ya need? A bathroom break?" Phil inquired.

Grountin was puzzled. Phil appeared oddly sincere in his gestures. It was like Phil really wanted this lady to appreciate him.

"Not you! Anybody but you!" she hollered, spitting in Phil's face; which he licked and apparently enjoyed. "Even you, blue guy. Help me, please!"

"Sure, I'll get rid of the blue guy, babe! You just watch!" Phil clamored. He held a serrated knife to Grountin's throat, declaring, "This one's for you, babe!"