Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
━━ HEAD FULL OF TERRORS
I push my way in front of Hank in order to see who the stranger is on our doorstep. He lets me slide under his arm so that we are both silhouetted in the doorway. The man who's asking for the professor glances down at me with a surprised look on his face. I squint up at him, taking in his features from where he stands, haloed by the sun.
The man is large, with broad shoulders covered in a brown leather jacket. A pair of shades cover his eyes, and his face is one of high cheekbones and an immaculately shaven beard. He doesn't look much older than thirty, but the wicked sideburns on his face and gelled hair seem to make him much older. I frown as I look at him, and we stare at each other for a while. Then, something changes in his face. It's as if he's seen something in my eyes that makes him take a step back, which makes my frown deepen even more.
Who is this guy?
"Do you need something?" I try to ask him as nicely as possible. My voice is soft and barely makes it through the air. The conversation with Charles has drained me more than I thought, and take a deep breath. I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine. But I am definitely not fine.
The man seems to awaken from his daze and says. "Uh, yeah. What happened to the school?" I raise a brow at him. This is just getting weirder by the second. No one ever comes to ask us what happened. They usually see the sorry state of the front yard and turn away immediately. We've never had any vandalism or burglars either. They seem to be able to sense that this isn't the place to rob, and walk the other way.
Which is why I watch the man in front of us very carefully.
"The school's been shut for years." Hank replies, his voice monotonous and plain. Hank hasn't been the same since Raven left, since the school closed down. He always talks the same way, with hidden pain behind each syllable.
"Are you a parent?" I ask. The man starts and looks down at me again, but when our eyes meet, he looks away quickly.
"I sure as hell hope not." the man scoffs and looks back up to Hank. He and I share a look with each other, our eyes holding the same caution towards this man. I turn my head back towards the man and watch him carefully, eyes narrowing. I'm almost tempted to try and reach into his mind, just in order to see what he wants. Then I remember it's almost impossible to do so without gaining a headache and hearing the voices again, so I keep my walls up tight and my fists clenched. I don't think I could be any match to this guy, but I know that I might be able to subdue him with darkness if it came to that. He wouldn't see it coming.
God, I'm so paranoid.
"Who are you?" the man asks Hank. He doesn't look at me.
"I-I'm Hank." my friend stutters. "Hank McCoy." The man's face softens into a knowing smile. "I look after the house." I don't even bother to correct him. It's partly true anyway. I mostly take care of Charles, helping him up, giving him his injections, and making sure he rests when he can't sleep. Hank handles the rest, including making sure I get to sleep as well. I can't count how many times he's found me half dozed off by Charles' bedside, twitching as the nightmares consume me. Hank always carries me back to bed when it happens, and when I wake up, I'm tucked safely into my covers.
