Why am I running?
Why is my life so tightly bound to other people? Why does my existence seem to revolve around them rather than myself? What is this feeling? Fear? Anger? Desperation?
Don't all humans eventually abandon one another? Isn't that what they do best? They make promises, offer affection, build trust, and then discard everything when it becomes inconvenient.
Why can't they all just die?
Why must I be the parasite? Why must I be the one who searches while everyone else hides? Why am I always chasing after people who never seem to understand what they mean to me?
A symphony of isolation, composed by humanity and performed by me.
Michael's thoughts raced as he sprinted across the grasslands, Precious slung over his shoulder like an inconvenient piece of baggage. His muscles burned, his breathing grew increasingly ragged, and the unfamiliar energy surrounding his body continued to fluctuate. Yet he pressed forward.
Then his ears caught something.
A voice.
Her voice.
He slowed for only a fraction of a second, turning his head towards the distant sound. How far away was she? A mile? A kilometre? It didn't matter. Distance meant nothing when it came to recognising that voice.
Wherever she was, whenever she called, he would know.
He would always recognise Elizabeth.
"LEAVE ME ALONE!" she screamed.
Michael's expression changed.
"WHY DO YOU WANT TO KILL ME SO BADLY? I THOUGHT YOU LIKED ME! YOU SMILE AT ME, YOU JOKE WITH ME! WHY THE SUDDEN CHANGE?"
Her voice carried across the open terrain, filled with exhaustion and disbelief.
Elizabeth stood with her back pressed against a wall, her breathing uneven. Sweat trickled down her neck, and her chest rose and fell rapidly as she struggled to recover. She had been running, fighting and desperately searching for a way out. She hadn't rested since this ordeal began.
And now, she was cornered.
The person responsible?
A boy.
Not just any boy.
He was short, muscular and dark-skinned, with smooth skin and a well-built physique. At first glance, he was the sort of boy many girls might have found attractive. His appearance was almost disarming, the kind that could easily conceal the ugliness beneath.
But the twisted smile stretching across his face told a different story.
He looked at Elizabeth with a mixture of resentment and amusement, as though her suffering were nothing more than an entertaining spectacle.
"That Michael boy," he began, taking a step towards her. "The one who doesn't talk to anyone but you."
His smile widened.
"He thinks he's special. And worse, he thinks you're special. You both irritate me. Every time I try to talk to you, he interrupts. Every time I try to get close, he's there."
He shook his head, almost laughing at the memory.
"But now, thanks to this little event Mr. Bola organised, I finally have an opportunity to fix things."
His expression darkened.
"If you won't be mine, then die with him. After all, there are better options than you, Elizabeth."
He spread his arms slightly, as though announcing something grand.
"For I, Yinka, will erase you both."
A sound interrupted him.
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
The slow, deliberate applause echoed through the area.
Both Elizabeth and Yinka turned towards its source.
Elizabeth's eyes widened in disbelief. Yinka's expression, on the other hand, twisted with immediate rage.
"Michael," they said simultaneously.
But the difference between their voices was unmistakable.
Elizabeth's carried relief. Her exhaustion momentarily gave way to something warmer, something that had been missing for far too long.
Yinka's was filled with venom.
Michael stood a short distance away, Precious still resting over his shoulder. He glanced at her briefly before unceremoniously tossing her onto the ground.
"You're too heavy."
Precious landed with a thud.
Michael didn't bother checking whether she was comfortable. His attention had already shifted to Elizabeth.
He began walking towards her, his expression as blank and emotionless as ever. Yet his body betrayed him. His shoulders sagged slightly, his movements lacked their usual sharpness, and the exhaustion accumulated over three days of searching was becoming increasingly difficult to conceal.
He had travelled across vast stretches of wilderness, endured injuries, fought beasts and struggled against an ability he barely understood.
And now, finally, she was standing before him.
His one goal.
His only reason.
Michael reached her and gently cupped her cheeks with both hands.
"Eli..."
His voice softened.
"I've been looking for you."
He studied her face as though trying to reassure himself that she was really there.
"You left me. I ran everywhere trying to find you. Do you know how long I waited?"
He sighed, his expression gradually losing its composure.
"It's tiring... Ugh. I want to sleep."
Then, with the casualness of a child speaking to his mother, he added:
"Eli, get me food. I want beans."
For a moment, Elizabeth simply stared at him.
Then she laughed.
Despite the danger surrounding them, despite the exhaustion and the threat standing only a few metres away, she couldn't help herself. She placed her hands gently over his and gave him a reassuring smile.
"Don't worry, my son. We'll get you beans."
Her expression then changed as she glanced towards Yinka.
"But first, we need to deal with him. He's trying to kill me."
One word.
Kill.
Michael went still.
The smile vanished from his face, and the warmth in his eyes disappeared. Something shifted within him, something that had been dormant beneath the exhaustion and confusion.
His thoughts stopped racing.
His emotions fell silent.
Every scattered part of him seemed to converge upon a single decision.
Exterminate.
Slowly, Michael released Elizabeth's cheeks and turned towards Yinka.
His gaze settled on the boy.
"You see, Yinka..."
His voice was calm. Almost conversational.
"I've studied you. I've followed you. Every time you followed her, I followed you. I never let you out of my sight."
Yinka's expression began to change.
Michael continued.
"Why? Because you're all the same. You chase her. When she doesn't want you, you manipulate her. When manipulation doesn't work, you try to destroy her."
His eyes darkened.
"But I can't let you do that."
He tilted his head slightly.
"That's why I took precautions."
Yinka's smug smile faltered.
"Your mother, Mrs Jones..."
Michael paused, allowing the name to settle.
"Well, she's about to become Miss Jones, seeing as her husband is currently tied upside down in one of my basements."
He reached into his belongings and produced a framed photograph, tossing it towards Yinka.
The boy caught it instinctively.
"Go ahead. Look."
Yinka stared down at the photograph. His fingers began to tremble.
"I preserved it just for you," Michael continued, his voice carrying an almost cheerful tone. "It'll be the last time you see him."
Yinka's face drained of colour.
His lips parted, but no words came out.
Michael watched him for a moment before continuing.
"Oh, don't worry. I didn't exactly have the resources to arrange all this myself, so I used yours."
He gave a small shrug.
"If you check your bank account, you'll notice it's empty."
Yinka looked up sharply.
"How?" Michael asked, answering his own question. "Simple. I didn't even need your details. I just switched the names on all the cheques you've been handing out to women."
He paused.
"Oh, yeah. You're not even loyal, you monkey."
Yinka stumbled backwards.
His hands shook as he clutched the photograph, his earlier confidence crumbling beneath the weight of everything Michael had just revealed.
"W-what are you?"
For the first time, the boy seemed genuinely afraid.
Michael's expression remained unchanged.
"Me?"
His voice dropped.
"I'm the one who's going to end you."
He took a step forward.
"And I know your ability, Mr Photocopy."
Yinka's eyes widened.
Before he could process those words, Michael's muscles tightened. His body shifted forward, and the energy surrounding him surged.
There were no weapons in his hands.
No elaborate strategy.
No attempt to negotiate.
Just his fists.
Michael launched himself towards Yinka, his feet tearing through the ground as he accelerated.
Because this bastard, this thing standing before him, didn't deserve anything else.
"You bastard..."
His voice carried a rare intensity.
"You need to die."