IMPULSE

WHERE WE MET

I hate soggy clothes; they make me feel heavy making it hard to breathe. The drip-drip-drip of stinky water falling on my head from the very top of the dirty building I lean against. But still, I don't wanna move. My hair is wet, darkened by the stinky water and the tears rolling down my face. Momma said that cry babies are only allowed to cry when nobody's watching. So that's why I'm in this stinky ally. It's the best and safest place I could run to. The baby tears are seeping into my school's uniform, and if I get home wet like this daddy will probably give me a whipping. But that's alright, it'll be worth it.

I had run away so fast I didn't know where I was going until I fell rather hard. My breathing evens out as I fixate down helping me not do something stupid like I always do. Fixating on an object always helps me control my quirk. This time I'm staring at my knees, the blood isn't drying because I'm all wet. It stings with all the tiny little pebbles that sit in the scraps, but I kinda like the feeling. Momma said I should have been a boy with how accident prone I am and I agree with her. This stupid skirt didn't protect my knees at all when I tripped.

My last hiccup leaves my chest as I look up at the clear sky, the drizzle leaving me alone. I hear steps scrapping against the dirty ground and suddenly a shiver trails up my body as a shadow falls on me. I look over and see a boy. He's older, I can tell, but his baby face says he's not much older than me. But as I look up and up I can tell he's really tall even from where I sit.

"Hi," I say. Even though momma said not to talk to strangers, once again I can't help myself.

"Why are you sitting in that filth?" his voice is mockingly making me wanna hit him.

My foot instinctively kicks out. But he lifts his leg and laughs down at me the shadow on his face lightens up, but only a little.

"Ha, your slow!" He chuckles, but his face doesn't really smile. He looks mean but at the same time his hand reaches down offering to help me up. And maybe, just maybe he isn't all that bad.

"I'm not slow" I grump as he lifts me from the ground, my clothes feeling really heavy.

"Sure." The boy looks me up and down. "Why are you crying here, shouldn't you go cry in a pillow or something?"

I look at him and I notice he's much taller than I expected. His hair is black, short, and unkempt like he's never seen a hairbrush before. I find it amusing and reach to touch it.

Surprisingly, he lets me touch his hair.

"I got in a fight today." I touch his wiry hair and then shrug patting the top once more then stop.

"What for," he asks with a silly face, "Did someone bully you?"

"Not really, a boy in my class was picking on my friend so I hit him." My face scrunches as I don't tell the full story. It is what it is.

"So you want to be a hero?" his face frowns as he says it making me want to yell.

So I do.

"NO. I don't wanna be a hero anymore! They make fun of me for no reason and blame everything on me! Why would I want to help them!" I say as I punch him in the stomach. My little fist not fazing him, not even a little. He looks down at me with a sad face. That sad face makes me angrier.

I punch.

And punch.

And punch.

One after the other my fists hit his hard stomach almost like punching a brick wall. My eyes well up, but I'm so tough they won't fall. My voice comes out in a frustrated yell all by itself though. And it makes me growl louder.