The Well Meaning Invaders

Jack wanted to experiment with this unknown entity. To put it through every test that he hypothesized might yield an interesting result. But the scientific temptations had to be put down. After all, he only had the one creature, and without access to another there was no guarantee that he wouldn't loose this opportunity.

However, he needed books. Linguistics had never been his strong suit, but he needed to master the basics, and to do so quickly. That was how he found himself at school once again. Stepping off the bus he saw a sight that had sickened him since the first time he had seen it. A crowded schoolyard with children in every shape and size, colorful backpacks and keychains from every pop-culture reference, and some cult classics bobbed up and down like boats in the ocean as they headed for the front door. He hated it. The colors of the backpacks, the desperate cries for individuality that came from those backpacks. Everyone in that sea of people was trying so desperately to say "look at me!" It meant there wasn't even a normal that he could hide in.

"I'm not here for them." he said to himself, as though repeating a mantra. "just get to English and get the books." He began to walk quickly, weaving through the crowd in an attempt to get to the safe harbor of a classroom. He heard a cry from somewhere up ahead. "Just avoid the drama." he thought to himself, beginning to move the direction he thought opposite of the sound. The crowd began to become dense. Elbows pushed, torsos prodded, and Jack felt himself being pushed in the direction of the crowd.

It was stuffy where he wound up, crowded on all sides by students he tried to find an opening. There it was, a small slip in the crowd, and just beyond he could see clear concrete. Desperate to escape the confines of literal societal pressure, he made for it as only one of his stature could. That was how Jack found himself in the eye of the storm. A girl stood before before a tall guy, who held what appeared to be her keychain high. It was a yellow cat that Jack recognized as belonging to an obscure game he had once played. In fact he had the same keychain since it was a collectors edition item.

"Not my problem." was his thought. He wished he hadn't seen as much as he had. He knew that the right thing to do, would be to stand up for the person, who was having trouble. After all when many people stand together the probability of success increases. He could hear his fathers voice ringing in his head already, "why didn't you help?!"

Why should he? Why was he supposed to do the so called "right thing?" It inconvenienced him, and as far as he could tell, was just to get credit in society, which he wanted nothing to do with. Jack began to walk, confidently, beyond the drama, towards the other side of the circle, where the oh so promising school doors were. That was safety, or at least the closest thing to safety outside of his room.

He was aware of the shouts coming from the attention seeking boy who had stolen the keychain. He ignored the words, staying in the safe bubble of his mind. A thousand yard stare towards the schoolhouse.

Pain. As soon as it started Jacks mind started analyzing and was brought back into reality.

"I SAID DON'T IGNORE ME!" the scream came from the boy, his fist had connected with Jacks face, and Jack fell to the ground. The red mark of clenched fingers already swelling on his cheek, Jack went into survival mode. There was no fight or flight response from him. Simply a heightened sense of intellect. Looking at all the angles, he noted that the yellow cat had been broken badly and a sense of guilt came from his stomach. "Odd" was all he could attribute to that feeling. The second thing he noticed was that the girl had disappeared. "Very well, probably better for her." A crowd like this would attract a teachers attention, and with how long it had been gathered, he was sure one would show up at any time.

"What makes you so special that you can just waltz past something like that huh?!" The boy was still shouting, "Is something like this not worth your time?! Answer me asshole!"

Anger welled up in Jacks heart, and he started shaking. "The only asshole I see here, is the one who answers everyone around him with his fists." It felt weird. To actually acknowledge someone other than his parents to exist, to converse with them, even if they had physically forced him to do so.

He knew that he had just crossed a line. One that would not end well for him, the face that the idiot made told him that. But something else caught his eye.

It was subtle, but definitely there. A discoloration and odd texture on the boys hands, a slight blue, mucus like substance. Barely visible to anyone who wasn't either looking for it, or running on pure adrenaline. Jack couldn't keep the feeling down anymore. He remembered fear, the reason he hated society. People were assholes. They would easily betray you for the slightest advantage on the shortest notice. Wasn't that why he didn't go to school? because of the people he had called friends? It overtook him in that moment. Absolute paranoia, everyone of them was an enemy.

That was when the pain began again, it felt like knives. Cutting into him with every blow, it wasn't like when the boy had punched him in the face. Jack knew that the blows were actually cutting him. and moreover he knew that it was the blue mucus on his hands that was doing it. There wasn't any other explanation, it felt so familiar. He would never forget how it felt to be stabbed after all.

"I'm finally going to die." was the last thought he had when he blacked out.