Ike went home, saying he would try again. I had rejected his offer, it makes me who I am. I would have to live with it. So now I am leaning against the wall of the janitors closet, unable to go home, unable to go anywhere.
Once more I hear footsteps, three pairs.
"This is the police, they are coming to get you," the voice whispers, I turn to see my younger self looking braced, ready to fight.
"What do I do?" I ask.
"I'll help you, just follow my lead!" He runs out I follow, he leaps on one and bites the neck, I do exactly the same, like I'm two seconds ahead of the fight. The mans eyes go up into their sockets as the venom pours from my mouth into his jugular, killing him in 30 seconds.
I feel a bullet before I hear it. It pings harmlessly off my body like I'm wearing armor. I laugh.
I grab the second man, my grip crushing his neck and with a lazy flick, breaks it, like I have pincers.
The third man looks at me in horror. In seconds I grab his face with my hands, the poison flowing through me, paralysing him, if he doesn't receive help he will die.
My younger self looks at me, cracking his neck, a satisfied look on his face.
"See," he says, elongating the word, "now doesn't that feel better," he whispers.
I feel strong, confident, adrenaline, making me stronger.
"They weren't with the police," my younger self grins evilly, "but they would've killed you, you're lucky you have me, if no one else."