Disclaimer: The PPGs aren't mine but more importantly, this story contains self-harm, in case any of you are sensitive to or uncomfortable with such issues. I would also have liked to add the issue of depression but I do not know if this is an accurate representation so I'm just going to leave it as sorrow and distress.

The shrill timing of the school bell was an indication of release for most students. However, I wasn't like anyone else, in every sense of the term. As everyone started packing up the stuff even while our teacher was talking, I continued slumping in my chair and staring straight ahead.

Well, it wasn't like I even had anything to pack since I didn't bother to take anything out when class started.

"Brick, can I see you after class?" Ms Winters asked. Some of my classmates sniggered at this, casting mocking glances at me as they streamed out of class. I scowled in response but I got up and walked to her nonetheless, slinging my bag on one shoulder.

Ms Winters passed me a couple of papers. "Well, I'm surprise you actually did them," she sighed. "You got a perfect score. A huge improvement from the actual test, I would say."

She fixed me a hard, knowing look and I started looking through the paper. It was about a week ago when she had given us the surprise test. The class had failed, naturally but the only reason I failed the test was because I merely handed it in with my name written on it. But being that annoying and persistent brat she is, Ms Winters had insisted that I actually did the paper, which I did and I managed to score a full hundred marks.

"I don't understand what's going on in that mind of yours," she continued. "With your capabilities, you can be in an advanced class or you can skip grades but you're not putting in any effort to even complete your tests. It's because of that you're here."

I wasn't so keen on continuing the conversation because I knew that all she was going to do was compare me to Blossom.

"Can I go now?" I asked, stuffing the test into my bag. Ms Winters shrugged, turning back to the stack of papers she had on her desk. As she started gathering her things, I walked out of class. I was starting to get really hungry and I wondered what my brother had prepared for lunch.

I ended up bumping into him in the hallway. Boomer was carrying a bunch of art supplies and he seemed to be in a hurry. Yet, he stopped and smiled at me.

"Hey, Brick. I got club after this so I can't make lunch for you. Could you go grab something for yourself?" he asked. He sounded apologetic but from the way he was glancing at his friends who were waiting for him down ahead, I figured he really couldn't be bothered if I ate or not.

"Yeah, okay," I murmured.

"Butch has football training so the both of us will be home quite late. See you later!" He didn't even glance back as he ran off and joined his friends.

I started walking out of school, passing by the field in the process. Butch was there with a couple of jocks whom he now called his friends. I think our eyes met but he quickly looked away, probably pretending not to have seen me.

I honestly wondered if my brothers were ashamed of me, especially ever since we had been forced into the position that we were in.

Around a year ago, the girls, together with the American military, staged an attack on all three of us. No matter how hard we fought, eventually, it resulted in surrender. Well, I still wasn't sure who surrendered because I was knocked out. I guessed they realized that negotiating with my brothers would be a better option that with me so their priority was to get me out of the picture. When I woke up, the fight was over and I was in jail, stripped of my powers from Antidote X. We were given a choice to turn over a new leaf or face life imprisonment. Honestly, it wasn't actually a choice, if you ask me.

The conditions were as such: we were to remain good and the government will make sure we survive by pumping in money but if we broke any laws, depending on the severity we would be awarded either a life or death penalty.

Sometimes I wonder why I didn't just let them kill me earlier on. It would be better for me at least.

I wasn't even the one who surrendered.

"Hey, hey, hey, look, it's the loser again." The snigger obviously came from the one and only Mitch, who had really nothing better to do with his life after school and so he resorts to making my life a living hell.

I turned to him and raised an eyebrow. "What do you want?"

Mitch was with his minions as usual. But they were honestly too irrelevant for me to actually remember their names. He placed an arm around my shoulder and grinned at me.

"What's the poor old baddie going to do today? Rob a convenience store? Litter in the park? Or maybe... you're going to steal candy from a kid," Mitch chuckled. I sighed and pushed him away.

"I'm going home," I snapped, tugging at the shoulder strap of my bag and starting to walk forward.

"You've really fallen a lot, haven't you?" he wondered cheekily. "You used to be the coolest among you three brothers but now, Butch and Boomer are way above you."

I shrugged, continuing to walk forward. They followed after me, obviously intending to pester me further. I seriously had no idea why he took pleasure in pushing me till I was on the brink of snapping his neck every single time but he did it and it seemed to have evolved to his past time. I tried to block out what he was saying but I couldn't remain completely oblivious to it. The words hurt but I had to bear it. Eventually, he did leave me be (or so I thought).

I headed over to the convenience store. Taking a basket, I walked over to the end of the aisle. I was running out of coffee at home. Might as well stock up. I filled the basket with a few cans and tossed in some snacks. The government pumped in whatever money my brothers and I wanted. We could easily afford plenty of food. As I debated between two brands of chocolate, a conversation caught my attention.

"Hey, that kid is one of them, isn't he?" I glanced over at the corner of my eyes and saw two ladies (probably housewives) huddled over at a corner. One was pointing at me. They probably hadn't noticed me watching since my hair shielded my eyes nicely and they were obviously whispering not to catch my attention. But since my hearing was way better than any human's, I could hear them clearly.

"Are you sure?" one of the ladies asked.

"Yes I am! Just look at his eyes! The only person in this town who has red eyes is that boy!" the other one said.

I hurried over to the cashier, taking along both the bars. I had more than enough money anyway. Buying an extra chocolate bar wouldn't hurt my pocket.

I wanted to leave the place as fast as I could but there was a long queue at the cashier and I ended up having to wait. Maybe it would have been better if I just left and starved myself till Boomer reached home. Or I should order takeout (though I was starting to lose my appetite as time went on). As I looked around the place impatiently, my eyes fell on the shopping basket of the person in front of me. It was piled with low-fat and sugar free chocolate bars and I found myself wondering how people even managed to eat such monstrosity.

"Hey! Hey, you!" My head snapped up at the voice and I realized that the girl in front of me was staring at me hatefully, with her free hand on her hip.

"What?" I asked.

"Why're you staring at my ass?" she questioned, leaning forward with a frown.

"Excuse me? What?" I muttered, almost gasping in disbelief.

"You saw it didn't you?" she asked, turning to her friend beside her. "He was staring at my ass."

"He totally was!" the other girl agreed. "Slimy pervert."

"I wasn't staring at your ass!" I insisted.

"Sure you weren't!" the friend scoffed. "Look here, I know she's hot and all but someone like you will never get into her league. Screw off."

"Don't antagonize him," the girl warned. "What if he rapes me in anger or something?"

"I wouldn't do that!" I argued.

Even if I used to be a villain, there was no way I'd have resorted to something as disgusting and lowly as that of rape. I wouldn't even have beaten up someone who was weaker than me. Rape was entirely out of the question. But it didn't seem like the girls realized that. They probably had lumped me in with all other villainous guys they had ever known.

"You're… that guy who's under the watch of the government, aren't you? They said that you're the only one in town with red eyes," the girl said. "I'm… kinda worried for myself now."

"Like I said," I snapped, raising my voice to make a point, "I won't do such a thing!"

"Hey, stop picking on her!" I felt someone grab me by my shoulders and I was turned to look at a boy who seemed around the same age as me.

"I wasn't picking on her!" I insisted.

"You expect me to believe that you weren't picking on her when you're such a lowly degenerate?" he snarled. "Get out of our town, you red-eyed bastard."

I had it. I pushed his hand off me and dropped my basket. I picked up a packet of bread and walked over to the counter, pushing through the queue. I slammed a fifty-dollar note on the counter and turned around.

"Keep the change," I muttered.

Ignoring all the cries of outrage behind me, I walked out of the supermarket, heading towards the direction of my home. Deciding that I wanted to get home as fast as I could, I headed through the alleys, which once had seem so welcoming to me. But now, it only made me feel uncomfortable.

"Looks like someone got chased out of the supermarket."

Mitch and his buddies were lying in wait for me, proving to me, once again, their lack of productive abilities in life. They pushed themselves off the walls they were leaning against and walked over to me. I stopped, narrowing my eyes as I fixed them on him. The four of them surrounded me and I mentally prepared myself for an attack.

"What's the matter, Brick? Too scared to stand up for yourself?" Mitch asked, snickering.

"I wouldn't want to waste any effort standing up against you," I replied flatly.

"Let's see about that, shall we?" he mused. He grabbed me by the collar and pushed me backwards. Someone's arms wound around my arms, holding me backwards and as much as I struggled (without using my powers), he had a firm grip on me that wouldn't loosen. Mitch walked closer to me, cracking his knuckles. His other two buddies stood behind him. One of them was holding a phone in his hands.

"Make sure you record everything," Mitch chuckled. He reached over and pulled the zipper of my jacket down.

"Let me go," I snapped. He replied by slamming his fist into my abdomen, with a force that caused me to black out for a moment. I had to give it to him. He was strong. Mitch continued laying punches on me, making me gag and cough. My body was itching to retaliate and to break free of my capturer's arms and pound the hell out of Mitch. But I knew that he wanted me to do so. Therefore, the video. He merely needed to trim it to show me beating him up and that would be the end of me.

Just why did everyone seem so interested in tormenting me?

The person behind released me and as Mitch laid his final punch, I was thrown back to the ground, splashing into the grimy water below. Mitch grabbed me by my shirt again, pulling me up and pushing me against the wall roughly. My vision blurred from the impact and I squeezed my eyes shut, fearing that my nausea might overwhelm me.

"You've fallen so low, Red," he laughed. "Man, this feels good. Come on, boys."

My knees failed me and the moment he released me, I slid down till I was seated on the ground. I sat in darkness for a while and when I opened my eyes, they were long gone. In front of me, on the ground, lay my discarded bread, which had been trampled upon till beyond consumption during the scuffle. It didn't matter, I suppose. The attack had taken my appetite along with all my pride.

I… hated my life…

I closed my eyes again as I leaned my head on the wall. When I opened them once again, the sky had gone dark and the stars were out. I hadn't realized that I had fallen asleep. Slowly, I got up on my trembling legs. My whole body was aching so badly. It was hard for me to even pick up my bag. My stomach stung from not having eaten from hours, worsened by the multiple punches it had accepted.

It took me ten minutes to get home and my brothers were already there when I entered the apartment we shared.

"Hi Brick, where had you been?" Boomer asked, stirring something in a pot. He turned to me and his eyes widened. "Did you get into a fight?"

"A fight?" Butch peeked at me from the couch, frowning.

Boomer pulled me into the kitchen and pushed me down onto one of the chairs. Butch walked in carrying a first aid kit as Boomer pushed my tee up and studied my body.

"These will fade off after a while," Boomer murmured. "Really, Brick? Who'd you kill?"

"Don't worry, he didn't even fight back," Butch replied, smirking.

"How'd you know that?" Boomer questioned.

Butch pulled out his phone and grinned. "I saw the video. Mitch sent it to the Captain and he sent it to the rest of us."

I snatched the phone out of Butch's hands and watched as the messages continued pilling up, calling me different degrading and insulting names and terms. As I looked through the conversation, I saw Butch's reply.

"This is… funny to you, Butch?" I asked softly.

Butch blinked and snatched his phone back. "D-Don't read my messages! That's an infringement of my privacy!" he snapped.

"Butch!" Boomer hissed.

"Of course," I sighed, getting up and picking up my bag. My heart was thumping in my chest and I felt a lump rise in my throat. "I get beaten up and he's worried over his privacy."

"Come on, Brick, lighten up… It's all in good fun," Butch laughed. "Come on, it's not like you died or anything!"

"Wouldn't it be too late if I really died?" I wondered acidly. I pushed past him, walking out of the kitchen. My eyes were burning and I forced myself to keep them open.

"Wait, Brick! What about dinner? I'm cooking beef stew," Boomer called out from behind me.

"Beef?" I grumbled. "I hate beef. You know that."

"Well, Butch insisted-"

"It's alright. I'm fine," I muttered, feeling annoyed from how my brothers had seemed to have completely disregarded me. I could faintly hear Boomer and Butch arguing in the kitchen and I slammed the door to my room shut. Their voices were still reaching me. In a desperate attempt to completely silence them, I walked to my closet and pulled open one of the drawers, pulling out a vial from a collection I had. Without a second thought, I drank the liquid empty.

Antidote X had immediate effects. Their voices faded off but at the same time, the pain and fatigue I was feeling intensified. I got up and stumbled into the bathroom, stripping myself in the process. After I turned on the faucet, I took a longer-that-usual shower, standing with my back leaned against the wall as the water fell down my body. The hot water was almost soothing and for a slight moment, I could forget the pain. I closed my eyes and groaned.

Why did I feel so tired lately?

After a while, I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. I had completely forgotten to take my towel along and if I simply walked out, I was going to end up wetting my room. I stood by the sink, watching the mirror quietly. It was fogged up so I reached over and wiped it with my hand, clearing up the vapor and revealing my reflection. Just like me, my reflection was striking in every way. My flaming hair and blazing red eyes were merely begging for attention. Maybe that's why I could never succeed as a villain. I stood out too much. And it seemed like this reason would once again be my downfall. I stood out way too much to let anyone forget about me.

My hair was one thing. There were a few people had red hair. But my eyes were an entirely different story. No one had red eyes. The only person in the whole city that had red eyes was me. And everyone was aware of that fact. My brothers had green and blue eyes, just like a lot of other people. They could blend in easily enough for everyone to forget about them.

But no way was anyone going to forget the terrifying red-eyed kid.

Why was I the only person stuck with red eyes?

I continued staring at my reflection and the longer I did, the more I felt that my eyes were hideous. No ordinary child would be born with such eyes. They were plain evidence of the fact that I was not normal.

I was a monster.

I placed my left hand over my closed eye, pushing my finger against it, almost digging it out. If only I could just replace it. I tried putting on contacts before but I absolutely hated the way it felt. Maybe I should try to bear with it and hide the color of my eye instead. My hand dropped to my side and I opened my eye again, staring at the crimson pupils.

If I weren't bad and evil, would I have found my red eyes beautiful? Would anyone have? People seemed to find strange things either beautiful or disgusting. Since I was evil, my red eyes were hideous. But if I were good, would my red eyes have been icons of beauty instead? Would anyone have actually looked past my flaws and admit that I was practically a simple human?

No, no. What was I thinking? I wasn't human.

Repulsed at the sight of myself, I clenched my fist and slammed it into the mirror. The glass shattered from the impact, slicing at my skin and drawing blood. I stared at my hand as the numbing pain overcame me, blood flowing out steadily and staining whatever surface it touched.

I turned on the tap and held my hand under the water. My wounds stung at the touch of water but as the physical pain from my old and new injuries started intensifying, the pain I felt within started receding. I could feel a grin forming on my face. It felt so relieving. The release and freedom it gave my heart and mind was welcoming.

I… wanted… more…

With a shaky hand, I picked up a broken piece of glass, holding it over my wrist. The water continued flowing. As I pressed the sharp piece against my skin, hard enough to draw blood, I watched the blood and water mix, the transparent liquid morphing into dark scarlet.

"Brick! Are you in there?" Boomer's voice broke me out of the trance I had gotten into while staring at the water.

"Yeah… I'm… gonna be out in a minute. Give me a moment!" I hurriedly washed the stray blood off my sink. My wrist was still bleeding and I immediately wrapped a towel around my wrist, applying pressure to stop the bleeding.

"Brick, are you alright in there? You sound strange."

So Butch was outside too.

"Yeah, I am. Give me a minute!" I replied, hastily shoving the pieces of glass into the bin, cutting my hand more in the process. Luckily, they were slight scratches and they didn't cause any bleeding. I took another towel and wrapped it around my waist, opening the door slightly and peeking out.

"Yes? What can I do for you?" I asked.

"Are you okay? You were in the bathroom for an awfully long time," Boomer replied.

"Yes, I'm fine… I was just… thinking in the shower."

"Oh… Alright then," Boomer said, unconvinced. "Are you sure you don't want any dinner?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," I said, forcing out a smile and nodding at him.

"Well, then," Butch said, scratching the back of his neck as he bit his lip. "I'm sorry about laughing."

"It's fine, really. Don't worry about it!" I laughed, though it was all forced. Somehow, it still did seem convincing and my brothers relaxed.

"Then, we'll get going. Have a good night, Brick."

I closed the toilet door at Boomer's words, feeling a surge of anger in me. Wasn't it obvious that I was hiding something? Didn't they care enough to prod more? Of course not. Since when did my brothers even care about anything except their stupid lives?

Leaning against the door, I let myself slide down to the ground, closing my eyes as I leaned against the door. My body was hurting. It was hurting so much. Yet, I could barely register the pain in my mind. There was something else within. Something that was stinging so much more inside of me, begging to be released somehow. I couldn't hold the tears in, even though I had no idea what they originated from. I couldn't stop the sobs that escaped between my lips. But even then, it was not enough.

Why was I hurting so much?

My fingers dug into my chest and my nails raked across my body, diagonally downwards to my hips. Repeating the action drew more tears and some blood but even then, I wasn't satisfied. Physically, I could feel my powers returning as the pain receded. That merely served to worsen the situation. It wasn't helping that I was feeling less pain.

I… wanted more…

Getting to my knees, I crawled over to the bin and reached in, pulling out a piece of glass. Pressing it on my skin, I pulled it along the scratches my nails had caused. It hurt a lot more than my fingers did. It hurt so much that my mind kept begging me to stop, telling me over and over again that I was going overboard and that my problems weren't justification for me to hurt myself. It was wrong. There were other ways. But for some reason, these 'other ways' didn't appeal to me. Pain was what I had known my whole life. It really wasn't unexpected, was it?

I didn't want to stop but as I continued, I got used to the pain and it started losing its healing touch. Shakily, I stopped and slowly got up. From what remained of my mirror, I admired my work of art. My body was a sanguine masterpiece. I ran my hand along my torso, smearing the thick, sticky liquid over myself.

Red…

More red…

Why did it have to be red?

I caught the eye of my reflection. My eye wasn't the beautiful red that embellished my body. It was different. It was brighter, resembling cherries atop an ice cream. It seemed more welcoming, more innocent. It was… disgusting.

I knew I took it too far even before it happened. With the glass piece still in my hand, I raised it up to my right eye. I didn't hesitate like before. I plunged it in. Unlike the other times, the pain was unbearable. With a soft cry, I dropped the piece of glass, slamming my hands over my bloody eye. It hurt too much for me to open it, much less check my sight. I probably was going blind in that eye but whether that was an issue didn't surface in my mind in that moments. There was only one thing on my mind.

Pain.

Pain, pain and more pain.

I stumbled back, hit my back against the glass shower door and slid down to the floor. I was panting hard. I was trembling. It was starting to get too much. My body convulsed and I turned my head in time to throw up on the floor and spare myself from the horror of being doused in my own puke.

I was feeling pain till the point of nausea. I doubted I had ever felt such feelings before.

And… I was relishing it.

For the first time in a long time, I felt a smile spread on my face.

Hello my friends. It's been awhile since I had uploaded something. I know I have a story to complete but this happened in the spur of the moment or something like that. I'm not going to say much. I'm just going to leave this here. I hope I didn't overdo this though. I don't know if I should continue this. I might turn this into a typical finding release and recovery through art/music but we'll see about that.