Carter sat on the hospital bed, zoned out from everything. The sterile room felt distant, unreal. His arms were bandaged, and his bloodied clothes had been replaced with a hospital robe.
He could still smell the burnt flesh, hear the skull cracking, and see the corpse of the man he killed.
"Local hero Carter Hayes saved the people in the Evaluation Center in Garvyn City. Sadly, out of the 124 present, 29 died, and 50 were injured," the news anchor stated on TV.
Carter turned it off, feeling wronged by people praising him as the hero.
The drive home was quiet—no eye contact, no music, just silence. His mom almost said something but kept quiet and focused on the road.
Stopping at their driveway, his mom finally broke the silence.
"I don't know how you feel, but you're not a murderer—and you shouldn't feel guilty. Even if you hate yourself for what you did, you'll always be my son. Nothing can change that."
She waited for him to say something, anything. But he just opened the car door and disappeared inside.
Three days after the incident, while Carter's mom was buying groceries, a woman recognized her and approached her with a friendly smile.
"Oh, Linda! Book club feels like ages ago. I heard about the evaluation. I can't imagine how you're holding up—you're so brave," she said.
Linda's confusion must have shown, but Gloria just kept going.
"Living with a killer for a son... Don't you ever worry he might snap one day?" she whispered, miming a strangling motion with mock concern.
Hearing the bullshit coming out of Gloria's mouth, Linda left for the checkout without talking back. But Gloria, not getting the memo, kept on following and talking about how she felt and her fear of what would happen to Linda.
At the checkout, the cashier shot Gloria a dirty look, only for her to respond,
"Oh, mind your own business, will you."
She almost called Gloria out. Instead, she clenched the cart and took a deep breath before walking away, only to find the word KILLER spray-painted all over her car.
With a sigh, she loaded all the goods into her car.
---
Inside Carter's room, he scrolled through social media to take his mind off things.
Videos about his actions in the Evaluation center were everywhere.
Some praised him, some were neutral, and others outright cursed him for taking the life of Jim Jones.
Seeing the name—Jim Jones—brought him to tears. The images returned. The smell. The sounds. The bashed skull.
He couldn't breathe. His chest tightened. Smoke filled his lungs—not real, just memory—and heat flared under his skin, threatening to ignite.
His body sweated profusely, but the heat from his mana evaporated it before it could soak the sheets.
A knock on his door and the constant call of his name brought him back to his senses.
Linda tried to talk, but as always, the words were difficult to form.
Maybe it was her fault that Carter had charged at that man. Maybe if she weren't so weak, she could have done something.
The thought of Carter silently suffering gave her the strength to finally open the door.
It was dark, and the only light that illuminated the room was from the hallway.
Carter was curled up on the bed, wrapped tightly in his blanket. Faint sniffles broke the silence. She sat on the bed and caressed her fingers through his dark curly hair.
"I've been saying this and I'll keep saying it. It's not your fault. No matter what everyone thinks of you. You will be the same Carter as you always were and no one can say otherwise." She left after kissing him on the head.
When Carter heard the door close, he stared at it for a while, then his phone. His finger hovered over the screen, then tapped. Again. And again. Until the stress finally gave way to sleep.
He had applied to every mage school he could find, not knowing what came next. He didn't care. He just wanted to disappear—if not from the world, then at least from the word they'd branded him with: KILLER.