Aaron found himself ensnared by Tyson and his gang, tightening their circle around him In the secluded alleyway and wielding menacing baseball bats with a palpable intent to inflict harm.
It felt like the world itself was bracing for the fight about to unfold.
Tyson, with his towering frame, stepped out from the circle, closing the gap between him and Aaron. His shadow fell over Aaron like a threat. Without hesitation, he grabbed Aaron's shirt and hauled him off the ground as if he weighed nothing.
"Well, well," he sneered, his voice cold and mocking. "Look who walked right into the wolf's den. You're so predictable."
Aaron squirmed, his heart racing, but Tyson's grip only tightened.
"You've really messed up this time," Tyson growled, his face inches from Aaron's. "Do you even know who you're dealing with? Not only did you humiliate me, but in addition, I, Tyson, got thrown out of the exam room because of you, piece of shit."
He spat on Aaron's face, his cronies breaking into cruel laughter, their jeers ringing in Aaron's ears as he wriggled, suffocating under Tyson's firm grip. Suddenly, with a brutal shove, he sent Aaron crashing to the pavement. Dazed but resolute, Aaron got up as quickly as he could, coughing to catch his breath while scanning feverishly around him. He was outnumbered and outmatched.
"You really thought you could mock me and walk away unscathed?" Tyson barked, his voice sharp. "All you had to do was send me the answers, and none of this would've to happen. But no, no. You had to play the hero, stand up to me, and gamble with your life. Well, here we are."
The sky darkened further and Tyson's speech was interrupted by a loud and deafening thunderclap. "You see, even the sky is against you today. Now you will learn what it costs to provoke my wrath." Tyson continued, his angry face lit malevolently by a lightning flash.
Then, he cracked his knuckles in a succession of snaps that hinted at his desire to crush Aaron's bones. Still gasping for breath, Aaron raised his hands in a desperate plea he thought he would never have to let out again before Tyson. "Please... I... I didn't mean to... I'm sorry..."
Hearing this, Tyson's lips curled into a sinister grin as a deep, rumbling chuckle escaped his throat. The sound quickly swelled into a boisterous guffaw, his muscular frame heaving with unbridled amusement.
"For an actor, you're the best..." he jeered, his mocking laughter punctuating each word. "Did you hear that, you sorry sack of shit? He's apologizing!" Tyson continued, interspersing his malevolent outburst with the occasional derisive snort.
"I'll do anything, please..." Aaron pleaded, his entire body trembling. He desperately sought a glimmer of pity in Tyson's eyes, praying he might show him mercy.
But Tyson just stood there, enjoying the sorry sight in front of him. Then his face changed, turning cold and unfeeling like stone. Without warning, he slammed his fist into Aaron stomach. The hit knocked the wind out of him, and Aaron crumpled to the ground, clutching his middle. The pain was so sharp he thought he might throw up.
Tyson waved at his cronies and they came at Aaron eagerly, swinging their bats with full force. Pain exploded through Aaron's body, each hit making it harder to think or move. The first heavy drops of rain began to fall, dwindling further his options.
But his assailants showed no mercy like wild hungry beasts on easy prey, striking him violently all over as he instinctively covered his head in a desperate attempt to shield himself while absorbing the brutal assault.
The rain got heavier and the soaked alley became a one-sided battle. Tyson and his gang relentlessly assaulted the helpless Aaron with their bats. The crushing blows kept Aaron into the unyielding pavement. The strikes landed with force, and his defenses crumbled under the onslaught. Clinging to consciousness, Aaron prayed for someone to intervene before it was too late.
"Stop, it's okay, I think he's had his fill. Let's get out of here," Tyson gasped, delivering a final blow to Aaron's motionless form before crushing his glasses on the ground while looking around cautiously as if fearing he had been seen, his black hair flattened on his head and raindrops running down his face. They departed, leaving Aaron bruised, bloodied, and unconscious in the pouring rain.
---
Aaron stood in a desert that seemed to go on forever, with red sand stretching as far as he could see. The air was hot and heavy, making it hard to breathe. Above him, the sky glowed with bright red and gold colors, looking like it was on fire.
A sharp, searing pain jolted through his left hand. Gasping, he looked down to see the ring on his finger glowing a fierce red, its surface sparkling like embers. It seemed alive, pulsing with energy. He grabbed at it, desperate to pull it off, but it was as though the metal had fused with his skin, radiating unbearable heat.
Then, a voice. Soft yet commanding, it echoed across the desert, cutting through the oppressive silence.
"It is time to take responsibility for your destiny."
Aaron froze. The voice was feminine, warm but with an edge of authority. His heart raced as realization struck him.
"Mom?" he called out, his voice trembling. He turned in circles, searching for her. "Mom? Is that you? Are you... talking to me?"
The wind picked up, swirling the red sands around him. The ring on his finger flared brighter, sparking violently. Aaron shielded his face, his chest tightening with both fear and hope.
"You must take responsibility," the voice repeated, as though she were standing right behind him.
"For what?" he shouted, desperation creeping into his voice. "What are you talking about? I don't understand!"
Then he spun around, searching for whoever had spoken. The wind kicked up waves of hot sand, making it harder to see. Suddenly, a lightning bolt of deep red split the sky, crashing into the sand before him. From the blinding light stepped a hooded figure, its face hidden in shadows.
"Who are you?" Aaron demanded, his voice shaking as he stepped back.
The figure didn't answer, only raised a hand to point directly at the ring on Aaron's finger. But before Aaron could ask anything else, the ground beneath him crumbled, and he fell into darkness.
---
Aaron jolted awake, gasping for air, his heart hammering against his chest. He sat up in his bed, drenched in sweat, the vivid remnants of a nightmare—no, a memory—still fresh in his mind.
Confusion reigned in his mind. "What the hell...?" he muttered, running a hand through his damp hair. His last clear memory was the onslaught in the alley. Tyson's fists. The bats. The laughter. The rain washing over him as he lay helpless on the pavement.
Mechanically, he reached for his glasses on the bedside table, only to find them missing. It was then he realized he could see perfectly. As if by magic, his myopia and every visual impairment he'd ever had were gone.
Glancing down at himself, he expected to see the aftermath of Tyson's attack - bloodied clothes, bruises, and pain. Instead, he found only faint scratches and dried blood that seemed to be fading before his eyes. Confusion and disbelief mingled as he attempted to piece together what was happening to him.
Here he was, safe in his room, his body inexplicably healed. He threw off the covers and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his thoughts racing. How did I get here?
Had someone found him? Carried him home? And if so, why did it feel like he'd been plucked out of the alley by something... else?
A sharp, burning pain jolted him from his thoughts. His left hand flared with heat, pulling his attention downward. The ring.
It glowed a fierce red, pulsing like a heartbeat, as if it had just been pulled from a fire. The heat quickly became unbearable, shooting up his arm like liquid flames.