solicitude.

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Solicitude
(n.): Care or concern towards someone or something.

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Maybe he was being snoopy, researching about the authorities behind his son's back, now that William thought about it. But his son, his baby, the only remaining teether he had in this world, had come home last week, quiet and oddly melancholic. That wasn't like the upbeat, cheerful and incredibly loving boy he had raised.
The boy hadn't even reacted when he gave him a hug, just sinking deeper into the embrace when he'd usually protest over being given physical affection in front of guests.

He glanced at the shut door of his son's room, and frowned. He looked back down at his laptop, moving his cursor to slide his empty document away, and clicked onto Woogle. He was worried, just what had they done to his poor boy in those three months of "Readjustment Classes"?

He typed into the search bar, and immediately a bunch of forums, websites and articles appeared, all talking about how great the authorities were, yet nothing about what actually went on in the classes, to William's annoyance and frustration. He needed to get to the bottom of this.

He scrolled down further and further, getting more and more annoyed at the amount of bootlicking and praising of the authorities that he saw in the little descriptions of the links he gets, then he immediately scrolled back up slowly to get back to a link he had scrolled past.

A post on a forum named Blue-it. “ My experience going through these so-called readjustment classes…?” he read aloud, confused at the rather weird title. He clicks onto it, and reads the side note at the beginning of the post, then noted immediately that the original poster was deleted, and this was just a repost from a backup account.

This raised some alarm bells.

He scrolls down.

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This took me years to finally understand and cope with the trauma, and here I am today, typing this out on my laptop with the knowledge that I will get hurt, but you all need to know this.

I (F, 24), am what people call a God-tier with a devastating ability level of 6.5. I had suddenly jumped to that level, despite my mediocre training, and with an ability to manipulate any liquids around me, I did an awful amount of damage, especially to myself mentally, so much so that I found myself lashing out at friends, teachers, classmates and staff.

That coincidentally caused my biggest breakdown yet, when I — under far too much stress from the hierarchy and my ability, hurt the majority of my school in my stress and rage induced haze. I saw everyone as a blurry image, I couldn't recognise anyone.

Ultimately, they had to call the authorities on me. Unfortunately, they couldn't get me unscathed, and I ended up with injuries from adults with too much power, and was brought out of the school in cuffs.

Stepping out of the bloody field, I remember stepping over a body with a bloodied face and an arm snapped in half, and I recognised the face, despite all the blood and water and various other liquids I had commanded in that outburst earlier surrounding her. My best friend.

This was back in Highschool, and I'm far past that age, considering I'm 24 now. But that sudden chill running over me, like someone dumping a bucket full of water with too much ice over me, as I registered that I had hurt a friend, I will never forget that.

Since I was a rampaging high-tier that had basically almost massacred her entire school, my parents agreed to put me into these "Readjustment Classes", in hopes that I'd be taught to channel my rage, stress and get better at using my ability in other ways than to hurt someone. You know, like how they're advertised to the public.

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