𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐭 || 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

♤𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞♤

To whom it may concern,

Y/n L/n has been the cause of four classroom destruction incidents. For the past month, they have been known for violent outbursts in school. These acts are included but not limited to the following:

-The breaking and shattering of glass
-Harming other students (yet not with weapons, they appear to have a great deal of strength)
-Leaving other students bloodied
-Throwing and pushing objects into other students and teachers
-Pulling and cutting hair

This has been going on for quite some time. The school board and I have decided that it's gone deeper than trips to the principals office and being placed in windowless classrooms for students that need special help and attention. They even managed to break the cinder block wall. If you have any questions regarding this letter, please dial my office number (which will be on the attached file). We wish you luck with Y/n's suspension.

Sincerely,
Mrs. Lauve
8th grade counselor

◇◇◇

I unfolded the letter, letting the yellowed envelope fall to the floor. I read this note every now and again. It was the reminder as to why I was here.

I always found myself rereading the part where Mrs. Lauve (whom I never liked) said that I had "a great deal of strength."

That great deal of strength was actually a superpower, a thing that normies didn't possess. It was some sort of force, like telekinesis. And I had just recently learned to control it.

Mrs. Lauve always said that I had potential. As did my mother. My father, when he was alive, seemed to be the only one who understood me. I always took after him. He's the one who passed his ability onto me. He was an outcast once, too.

When he passed, mother let me have his journal. He had made it himself. He documented every time he had an outburst, all the way up to when he first learned how to manage them. He even illustrated his moments. I'd always admired his artistry.

Mother didn't always understand. She was a normie. She always wanted me to be perfect. But the thing about an ability is that you can't control it.

I sighed and put the paper back in the envelope. It wasn't always a gentle reminder. She just wanted me to feel included. But I had never felt more excluded in my life.

Oh, and I forgot to mention, I was charged of murder once. Of course, my mother begged and pleaded that I'd be found guilty and let go because I couldn't control it. After a very long review of my fathers history, the police let her have her way and I was sent home. Me, being nearly mute, had not a word to say.