The final bell was a sweet, clear note of promise. Mani moved with the crowd, his head down, his mental walls firmly in place. The voices were a dull hum at the edge of his awareness, a manageable static he had learned to ignore. He focused on the simple goal: get home. Get to his room. Close the door. Be alone with the one mind he could stand—his own.
He was almost to the school gates, the stream of students thinning around him, when he saw it.A younger boy, probably a first-grader, was backed against the chain-link fence. His name was Leo, and Mani knew him vaguely as the little brother of a quiet girl in his class. Surrounding him were two older boys from the fifth grade. Mani didn't know their names, but he recognized the posture, the casual cruelty in their smirks. They were smaller-scale versions of Mark.
"Come on, little guy. We just want to see your new watch," one of them said, his voice slick with false friendliness.
"Yeah, let's have a look," the other chimed in, stepping closer.
Leo clutched his wrist, his small face pale with fear. "It was a present," he whispered, his voice trembling.
Mani stopped walking. The old instinct, the one carved into him by years of experience, screamed at him to look away, to keep walking, to be a ghost. It wasn't his problem. Getting involved only made you a target.
But as he looked at Leo's terrified eyes, something shifted inside him. He saw himself in that small, cornered boy. He felt the echo of his own humiliation from yesterday, from every day. The memory of Mark's hand on his shoulder, the shock on Mark's face when his power had flared—it all surged to the surface.
The dragon in his chest stirred, not with panic, but with purpose.
He couldn't just walk away.
He turned and walked towards them. His heart was pounding, but his hands were steady. "Leave him alone," he said. His voice was quiet, but it cut through the afternoon air.
The two bullies turned, their expressions shifting from mockery to annoyance. "Get lost, kid," the taller one sneered. "This is none of your business."
Mani didn't look at them. He looked at Leo, giving him a small, hopefully reassuring nod. Then he focused on the bullies. He didn't want to fight them. He didn't want to touch them. He just wanted them to go away.
He lowered the mental wall he'd so carefully built.
The rush was immediate and nauseating. Their thoughts flooded into him, crude and simple.
'Who does this runt think he is?' from the taller one.
'Let's just take the watch and shove him in the trash can,' from the other, a burst of mean, impulsive energy.
Mani gritted his teeth, pushing past the revulsion. He didn't just listen this time. He pushed back.
He focused on the taller one, the ringleader. He didn't send words. He sent a feeling. A cold, sudden wave of dread. The feeling you get when you realize you've made a terrible, irreversible mistake. He pictured a teacher walking around the corner, the principal's stern face, a parent's crushing disappointment.
The boy's smirk vanished. His eyes darted around nervously. "You know what? Forget it," he muttered, his voice losing its confidence. "This is stupid."
His friend looked at him, confused. "What? Why?"
Mani turned his focus to the second boy. This time, he amplified the boy's own impulsive thought about the trash can, but twisted it. He made the idea of grabbing Leo feel dangerous, repulsive, like picking up something covered in slime.
The boy took a step back from Leo, a look of disgust on his face. "Yeah, whatever. Stupid watch anyway."
They both shuffled away, shooting confused glances over their shoulders, as if they couldn't quite understand why they'd suddenly lost interest.
Leo stared at Mani, his eyes wide with awe and confusion. "How did you do that?"
Mani didn't answer. He was breathing heavily, his head throbbing from the effort. Using the power intentionally was like lifting a car with his mind. It was exhausting. He looked at the retreating bullies, a cold knot in his stomach. He had reached into their minds and manipulated them. It had been easy. Terrifyingly easy.
"Just go straight home, Leo," Mani said softly, his voice hoarse.
The little boy nodded, then turned and ran, his small feet pattering on the pavement.
Mani stood alone by the fence. He had won. He had protected someone. He had used the curse for good.
So why did he feel so filthy?
He had become the whisper in the dark, the puppeteer pulling strings. He was no longer just the boy who heard thoughts. He was the boy who could change them. The power wasn't just a shield anymore. It was a weapon. And he had just fired the first shot.
The victory felt hollow, tainted by the method. He had become something other, something that didn't quite belong in the world of schoolyards and watches and walking home. He had crossed a line, and he knew, with a sinking certainty, that there was no going back.