“Now, you understand that no one can know of what we have given you okay?” the doctor asked, looking deep into the young boys eyes.

After a year or two of rehabilitation he was able to function again – better than ever before. His motor skills were faster than others; he was able to react at lightning speed. The doctors thought that it was time he went home to try and adapt him to society. His Mother could no longer afford to keep him here, is basically what the paper had said, but all the kid knew was that he was going to make friends.

The boy nods, “Okay Doctor.”

After some time the Doctor has left the room with his Mother, and they are talking over the possibilities of relapsing in society. His Mother simply nods and assures the Doctor that she will call if she feels that she can’t handle any of it.

“Don’t just call,” the Doctor says, handing her his personal phone number, “If you feel like you can’t handle him. Call if anything – I mean anything – happens.”

She nods, returning to her near teenage child.

***

It wasn’t the first time that he had been pulled up for hurting another child. The teachers didn’t understand how such a lanky child could have so much strength, and he didn’t let them know.

“He just doesn’t know how to control his strength sometimes…” His Mother said to the Principal as he sat outside, wishing he could swing his legs while he sat on the chair, but they were too long, they already reached further than any of the other children in his class. He was only fourteen and he was as tall as some of the older student.

The boy’s body was black and blue, he had several grazes as well, but no one really cared about that. It wasn’t about what had happened to him. It was about what he had done.

“He doesn’t know how to control a lot of things…” the Principal mutters, “He is constantly running further than he is meant to in sports class, he complains that his head hurts during mathematics and he is towering over all the students in his class.”

“He can’t control his height!” His Mother responded, she was frustrated that the Principal couldn’t understand this. He was just a boy, a boy that got migraines from looking at numbers for too long as the messed with his circuiting, a boy that had had a strange reaction to the metal and cords that lived within his body and had started growing unusually tall. He was simply a strong, fast tall boy that couldn’t read numbers.

“Well, if he had as much restraint as he was tall then we wouldn’t have these talks every week Ms Choi.”

She sighed, nodding.

“I would like to request his removal from the school; he is obviously in need of some proper… strength… training.”

She nods again.

Outside her son is hanging his head, it had taken him two years to get used to the wires in his body, two years before the Doctors had even thought of putting him in a normal school, and then after another two years… He was going to have to go back… He knew it…

***

“What are you reading freak?” a kid had asked, he was fifteen, older than the tall boy that sat by himself reading One Piece. He and his mates had decided that it would be fun to pick on the kid.

The boy shrugged, not looking up from his manga.

“Sorry?” the leader pushed the boy, forcing him to look up, “You should speak up when talking to your elders freak.” 

“I’m sorry?” the boy put his book down slowly, trying not to react to the angry group of boys in front of him.

They had started drawing in a crowd; they all knew that they were trying to get a rise out of the tall kid. The tallest kid in school…

“Tell us what you are reading you freak. Or are you so doped up that you can’t remember?” the leader laughs.

One of the boys behind him mutters “What drugs do you even do that give you that kind of strength in sports class?”

The crowd mumbled.

“Yeah… He’s already hurt several other boys because of it, why can’t he just stop?”

 “Wonder who the supplier is.”

“His Mum must give the drugs to him.”

“Tell us why Mummy gave you drugs?”

“Why were you home school for so long?”

“It’s because he’s a freak!”

“Freak!”

“You’re a freak JunHong!”

That’s when they started chanting; continuously repeating that he was a freak, an abomination. That he had no right to live if his Mother had done this to him. That he should be ashamed of himself because he did steroids.

To be honest, JunHong had no clue what steroids were, he was confused. Maybe that’s what the wires in by body contain…

Suddenly a fist came flying to his face. Hitting his cheek, causing him to fall back slightly.

He had always been told to ignore the words, to ignore the students as they hit him, because he would heal. He wouldn’t have the scars for long. But after two years of being in this school, of being called a freak from day one in sports class, of being picked on for being too tall, of being ignored by students, unable to make friends with anyone, not even the librarian. JunHong was over it.

The students were right, he had accidently hurt several other kids, just in sports class playing something as simple as dodge ball he would throw it too hard and it would knock someone out (considering that you use a soft bouncing ball in dodge ball this was an accomplishment). Another time it was during baseball, he had hit the ball but let go of the bat and it had gone flying into some kid’s leg where a defining snap could be heard. Not from the bat either.

No one had ever wanted to be his friend, or put him on their team in fear of being hurt by the tall and strong fourteen year old.

Another blow, this time to his side with a foot. One after another the students beat him, kicking him and throwing punches.

He tried to keep calm. Tried not to react, unsure of where that would put him if he hurt someone else.

“You deserve to die JunHong. A life like yours is already a waste of space. I’m sure your Mother will be happy that you’re gone.”

That was it that was all it took for him to react…