My name is John Fang. I am a hybrid. This is the story of the year I turned fourteen, the year my world was flipped upside down and everything I knew was burned away.
It started with my phone. It was sitting on the edge of my nightstand, vibrating so hard it was nearly sliding off the wood. The alarm was a jarring, insistent electronic screech that felt like a drill pressing into my ears. Every morning, that sound was the bane of my existence, a digital reminder that the warmth of sleep was over. I groaned and reached out a shaky hand, fumbling across the nightstand until my fingers finally swiped the screen to silence it. I lay there for a few minutes, the blue light of the phone still glowing in the dim morning light, before I finally forced myself to sit up.
I did what I usually do when I wake up. I stumbled out of bed, my feet hitting the cold floor, and made my way to the bathroom. I turned the shower on and waited for the water to get hot. I let the scalding water hit my back, letting it burn the sleep from my skin until I felt human again. After I brushed my teeth and dried off, I headed downstairs for breakfast.
The kitchen was already bright, filled with the morning sun. It smelled like the usual mix of burnt toast and my mom's overly sweet coffee, but today there was also the salty, savory scent of crispy bacon and fried eggs filling the air. My mom, Angeline, was standing by the stove. She was wiping her hands on a dishtowel as she turned to look at me. Her eyes were a deep, solid black, just like mine. They always held a look of gentle concern that made me feel safe.
"Do you still need something, honey?" she asked, her voice soft and kind as she pointed toward a plate of food.
"No, Mom, I'm heading to school now," I replied. I grabbed my faded backpack from the chair. Even though it was just a normal Tuesday, I felt a low-grade anxiety settling in my gut. It was a strange, heavy feeling that I couldn't explain, like a storm was coming but the sky was still clear.
Angeline chuckled and shook her head. "Wait! Aren't you going to give your mommy a kiss?" She held her arms out, waiting.
"I almost forgot." I walked over and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. Her skin felt soft and smelled faintly of the laundry detergent she used on all my shirts. It was a tiny, perfect moment of normalcy. It was a feeling of safety that I didn't realize I was about to lose forever. I made my way out the front door, feeling the sharp chill of the autumn air hit my face.
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Later that day, I was sitting in my science class. The teacher was droning on about human evolution and the way ancient species changed to survive, but my mind was miles away. He was talking about how nature selects the strongest traits for survival, and the irony of it didn't even hit me yet. The room felt stuffy, and the drone of the overhead lights was giving me a slight headache. I leaned over to talk to my two best friends, Freddy and Jake. They were the only reason school was even bearable.
"Yo, John, did you watch the latest episode of Dragon Saber Force?" Jake asked. He was whispering, his voice low and buzzing with excitement. He wasn't even looking at the teacher; he was busy sketching a sword hilt on the margin of his notebook.
"No, what happened? Did Dennis finally transform into the Thunder Lord or something?" I asked, trying to imagine the scene.
We both loved that animation. We loved the way the hero's muscles would bulge and his hair would turn gold, accompanied by the sound of a thousand shattering glass panes. That was the kind of spectacular power we lived for. It was the kind of power that only existed in fiction, far away from our boring lives.
My two friends and I were massive anime nerds. We spent our lunch breaks discussing manga plots, ranking soundtracks, and arguing about power levels in class. We weren't the smartest kids, but we weren't dumb either. We were just average students, united by our passion, just trying to get by and enjoying each other's company.
But, as I learned that day, every story has to have a villain. In our life, the disruption was a bully named Duke. He was bigger than us, meaner than us, and he seemed to enjoy making our lives miserable.
"And what do we have here? The nerd crew," Duke sneered. His shadow suddenly fell over my desk, blocking out the light. I didn't even have to look up to know it was him. I could smell the cheap cologne and stale sweat that always clung to him. "Why don't you leave these shitty books alone and go get some chicks?"
Before I could even think of a comeback, he slammed his meaty hand down. He smacked me hard on the back of my head. The impact was sudden and violent. It felt like a heavy bell had been rung deep inside my skull, leaving my ears ringing.
"Duke, this ain't the time to start with your bullshit," I said. I kept my head down, my teeth clenched so tight my jaw ached. I could feel the fury starting to boil in my chest immediately.
"And what are you going to do about it, Jonny boy?" Duke taunted. He leaned in closer, his eyes glittering with pure malice. He was daring me to move, daring me to give him an excuse to do worse.
I gripped my pencil so tightly that my knuckles turned white and my hand began to shake. Freddy quickly whispered to me from the next desk. "Johnny, don't try to fight him. He is going to run your fade. Don't you remember what happened to us last time?"
The memory flashed in my mind like a movie I never wanted to see again. I remembered the humiliation of being pinned on the hard, cold pavement. I remembered the suffocating pressure of Duke's arm digging into my windpipe during that choke slam. I could still taste the metallic tang of Jake's blood after Duke clotheslined him, and I remembered the gut-wrenching ache when Freddy got kicked while he was down. We had lost that fight badly, but what hurt more was losing the last of our lunch money.
Thinking about the injustice and how helpless we were made me even angrier. My heart began to thud against my ribs like a trapped animal. And that is when it happened.
My head began to throb and ache violently. It wasn't just a normal headache. It felt like a piece of burning iron was being pressed against the inside of my skull, trying to melt its way out. The pain was so sharp that my vision blurred. I let out a scream, a raw, inhuman sound that I barely recognized as my own. I grabbed my head, clutching my skull with both hands as if I could hold it together.
The classroom went dead silent. Every head turned toward me.
Jake and Freddy freaked out. "What's wrong, John? Talk to me!" Jake yelled. He reached out, trying to pull my flailing arms away from my head, but I was moving too violently for him to get a grip.
"It's not my fault!" Duke said. His voice was surprisingly thin and high now. He backed away from my desk, holding his hands up as if to show he wasn't touching me.
"You smacked him on the head, Duke! This time you're in big trouble!" Freddy accused. For once, the terror in his voice was replaced by a protective anger.
I was thrashing wildly in my seat. I could feel a strange power trying to force its way out of my skin. The pressure was so heavy that the lights in the room seemed to grow dim, and the air began to taste like ozone and electricity. Every student in the room was shocked, glued to the commotion. The teacher wasn't there to stop it. The pain became a deafening roar in my mind, a wall of white noise that drowned out the world. Suddenly, my body gave up. I pitched forward and fell to the floor, and everything went black.
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I slowly opened my eyes. The first thing I noticed was the dim, familiar sight of my lava lamp on my nightstand. The red wax was bubbling slowly, moving up and down in the glass, casting a soft glow across the room. I realized I was lying in my own bed at home.
Outside the window, the world was quiet. The afternoon sun was gone, replaced by the deep colors of the evening. It must have been late, but I didn't check the clock. My head still pulsed with a dull, heavy ache, but the searing, burning pain from the classroom was finally gone.
I got out of bed, feeling disoriented and weak. My legs felt like jelly as I walked to the bathroom. I needed to wash my face, to feel the cold water and convince myself I was actually awake. I splashed the water over my eyes, rubbing them hard to clear the lingering haze.
I leaned against the sink, taking a deep breath, and then I looked up into the mirror. What I saw shocked me to my core.
My hands began to shake, and water dripped from my fingers onto the white porcelain of the sink. I was looking at something that should not be possible. It was a thing I thought existed only in the pages of fantasy manga and the final episodes of my favorite anime shows.
I stared at my reflection. Where my left eye used to be solid black, it had turned a blazing, unnatural crimson red.
It wasn't a trick of the light or a reflection of the lava lamp. The color burned with its own chilling light. It was terrifying and beautiful all at once. It stared back at me, a silent and powerful signal that the normal life I knew was over. Something had woken up inside me, and it was demanding my attention.