Chapter 1: Impact of the Invisible

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Coursing rage flowed through him like malicious black fire, sparked by a simple gesture that displayed his powerlessness for all to see. Sadly, the very essence of the presented shard of himself swallowed the flames of anger leaving in its wake hollow and empty fatigue. But this moment, like the thousands of others, did not go forgotten and joined the rest in the youth's heart condensing into a core of perfect sin.

His sword hand twitched, itching to cut a path through the memories of a forgotten hero, and yet the girls refused to move. Edward's legs burned from gym. He had a headache from Hell, but still there they stood gossiping away outside the door to a classroom they considered to be empty.

"Excuse me," Edward said. Their chatter didn't even slow. His green eyes narrowed. Instinctively, Edward lowered his head so his wavy golden brown bangs would cover his face. He waited, trying to distract himself. The weather had grown abnormally cold, even for Missouri. His black zip-up sweater did little to fight the frigid air outside, but managed to be just stifling enough indoors. The cheap blue jeans and sneakers did little to help, too, but he didn't spend much time outdoors anyway. His backpack was heavy, full of books that only seemed to slow him down.

"Excuse me!" He said it louder this time.

One of the girls turned her back to him. As Edward reached to tap her on the shoulder, one of the others snapped at him. "What do you think you're doing? Don't touch her!" Her name was Stephanie.

Two years ago, in eighth grade, Edward had suppressed every natural instinct a boy could have when faced with a beautiful girl and made a sorry attempt at asking her on a date. He discovered days after her rejection she had spread enough rumors about him to get him pulled into the principal's office. That incident forced him to endure an hour long lecture in front of his parents about respecting boundaries and keeping his hands to himself. Despite his protests of having never touched her, the lecture continued. They wouldn't hear what he had to say. Why would they? It was a perfect, blonde, princess' word against his. Months later when he overheard Stephanie say, "I told them I thought he was gonna rape me, and they fuckin' bought it." His hate began to bloom.

That was in the past however. To keep his reputation and sanity intact he had avoided her as much as possible ever since. Doing so had only put a target on his back. The memories made him forget he was in the middle of trying to get her and her friends to move just enough so he could go home.

"Why is your finger in my face?" Amy said with feigned innocence.

Edward lowered his hand. Amy was one of the prettiest Asian girls he had ever seen, and if the din of the lunchroom white noise were any indicator, one of the prettiest anyone had ever seen. The third was Mira. Mira had blossomed early and was more known for her rack than anything else. It was an effort not to look. Her father was a doctor from India whose bodybuilding hobby managed to keep the boys at bay, however.

Edward stammered. "Uh, I was just— You look pretty today."

Mira and Stephanie erupted with laughter.

"He was checking out your ass. Maybe he wanted to smell your hair," said Mira.

Stephanie smirked. "Maybe if he spent more time paying attention in class and less time checking us out he wouldn't be such a failure."

"Ew," said Amy.

Once, Edward had bought Amy a Japanese soda he had heard she liked for her birthday. Mira had slapped it out of his hands insisting it was roofied. Another time, he had tried to offer his home to work on a group project with Mira and several of their classmates. He pulled a half dozen extra chores that week so he could afford to order pizza for them. After they arrived Mira suggested moving the meeting to a house that didn't smell as bad. The group agreed with snickering laughter. When Edward tried to follow, Mira put a hand on his chest and said, "Oh, we don't need you." She closed his own door in his face, but not before taking all the pizza.

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