January 3rd, 2011. My second year of high-school. This is the day that I almost died.
I survived. I saved myself. I got superpowers.

It was horrible.

I suppose I should explain. You see, there are these three girls at school that have been making my life pretty goddamn miserable. Doing everything they could think of to make school suck, humiliate me, hurt me. Each of the three had their individual approach, and for a good while, it was like they were trying to outdo each other in how creative or mean they could get.

It started when my former best friend Emma turned on me, just in time for the start of high-school. It went on for almost a year and a half before things quieted down. Around November, it was like they got bored. The pranks got tamer, then stopped altogether. The taunts stopped, and so did most of the hate mail. They ignored me, left me alone.

I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. But I made a friend, one of the girls who had sometimes joined in on the taunting came to me and apologized. Not one of the major bullies, more like a friend of a friend of the bullies, I guess. She asked me if I wanted to hang out. I was too gun-shy, told her no, but it got so we were talking before and after classes and eating lunch together. Her approaching me and befriending me was one of the big reasons I could think the harassment was ending. I never really let my guard down around her, but she was pretty cool about it.

And for most of November and the two weeks of classes before Christmas break, nothing. They were leaving me alone. I was able to relax. I thought it was over, that I could live my life now. Be happy.

That ended the day I came back from the winter break. I went to my locker, and well, they'd obviously raided the bins from the girls bathrooms or something, because they'd piled used pads and tampons into my locker. Almost filled it.

It was pretty obvious that they had done it before the school closed for Christmas, by the smell alone. I bent over to throw up, right there in a crowded hallway, everyone watching. Before I could recover or stop losing my breakfast, on of them grabbed me by the hair, hard enough it hurt, and shoved me into the locker.

They shut the locker and put the lock on it. I was trapped in there, with this rancid smell and puke, barely able to move, it was so full. All I could think was that someone had been willing to get their hands that dirty to fuck with me, but of all the students that had seen me get shoved in the locker, nobody was getting a janitor or teacher to let me out. I panicked, freaked out. The school day started and I was still in there.

Hours passed. During the class break I could hear laughter, sniggers and gagging sounds as people passed by. No-one let me out. I was feeling sick, dizzy, my voice hoarse from all the screaming and pleading. For hours I had banged against the door, trying to raise enough noise to be noticed. Insects were crawling on me, biting me, infesting me. Vomit and blood and filth seeping into the wounds. So as they all went to class, leaving me abandoned a second time, I broke. Something changed, I experienced something. I forgot it immediately after, but it was profoundly life changing.

I could see a tiny sliver of the ground outside my locker. I had watched as shadowy forms walked by earlier. My locker was far enough from any classrooms that no teacher had been disturbed enough by my shouting and screaming, they had not come to rescue me. I wanted out, and I knew by this point that no-one was going to let me out.

All of a sudden, I was out. But I was also still trapped inside. Everything was clear, bright and detailed, surreal. I could clearly see every colour in the faded tiles of the hallway, the nearby stairwell, the faded posters on the walls, and rows of lockers leading to a far away classroom. I was still light headed, dizzy, and shaking.

The filth was still on me, on both selves. And I knew one terrible truth. I was still in that locker. I might be out, but I was not free yet. Desperate, confused, sick, I took a step over and fumbled at the lock. I was lucky, they had simply replaced my own lock and had not used a new one. I knew the combination. Trembling hands slowly spun the dial. Click. Open.

I swung the door open and looked at myself. An odd moment of balance, peace, of riding a cresting wave. Only a few seconds had passed since I had found myself both free yet trapped. But now I could feel that wave starting to break. To fall apart. I had a moment of decision, of who to be. Me, or me? It didn't matter, I was free. I saw my rescuer crumble to ash. Me.

The rush of being two selves collapsed. I passed out.

This is where my story starts.