Five years ago…

Invisible to the human eye, a knife gradually materialized on the palm of Cadell’s hand. It was a small four-inch blade constructed from an unidentifiable red material, one that would eventually be known as the most versatile substance known to man. Light as a feather, as strong as steel and enough energy in one kilogram to fuel half a city…

Delirium.

As one of Cadell’s shaking hands tightened around the knife, his parents continued their heated argument, completely oblivious.

His dad’s voice was composed, but the quivering gun had a life of its own. “If there’s even the slightest chance he will become a monster, we should do what is necessary. It is our responsibility.”

“He just needs treatment!” his mum begged. She edged forwards, her heels clicking on hardwood. “He can be rehabilitated!”

“And what if he can’t? What if he becomes like them? If we don’t kill him now, we could be responsible for creating a mass murderer.”

“How could you say that about our baby? Your own son!”

“He’s not our real son!” his dad exploded. Tears streamed down his face. “Please believe me when I say that this is for him. I’m sorry, but—”

Cadell chuckled.

The laugh progressed into a hysterical cackle. His parents watched quietly at the boy’s final proof of insanity. Their final warning. His pupils shifted from a natural brown to a muddy, purple.

The delirium knife swiftly ripped through flesh. A scream pierced the air. Silent gunshots instantly followed. They were rapid at first but stopped as soon as they came.

A struggle, another limb slashed.

Why am I laughing?

Pleading, shouting, a strangled cry.

What am I doing?

Silence.

His parents sprawled across a rug. A blackhole of crimson engulfed them.

“No. Please, God, no,” Cadell whispered. “Why?”

Images of the murder flashed in his mind. He sank to his knees. I killed my… I… killed my...

He stared into space. Emotions abandoned him as his brain attempted to erase the traumatic memory. Blood dripped off the delirium knife and trickled down his arms.

Congratulations, boy.

Cadell almost screamed but instead tightened his fingers around the knife until they were numb. And for the first time, an enticing thought overlapped with The Voice in his head.

End this. End everything.

How poetic for them to see eye to eye now. How fitting for his demise.

Chest inflating, Cadell raised the murder weapon high in the air with two hands. Before he could plunge the knife deep into his skull, a murmur caught him in his tracks.

“My son,” his mum whispered.

Cadell let go of the knife which crumbled away. He shuffled towards his mother who laid on her side. She smiled as if she had woken up from a nap.

“Mum, you’re going to be fine,” Cadell lied. “I got you. You’re fine now.”

He would have applied pressure to the deepest cut but all of them seemed lethal. How much blood had she lost? How many times had she been… He held back tears. He couldn’t break down. Not in front of her.

She stared intently at Cadell. “Listen to me, my son. Don’t hate yourself. Everything will be okay. You’ve always been a good boy. Prove... Prove to everyone that you’re not a monster. We… fo…”

Head in hands, tears overflowed.

Between heavy sobs, Cadell cried out words that only brought more pain, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” The apologetic chant continued until it drowned into howls of anguish and fury. He leapt off bloody knees and charged at a television nearby with bloodshot eyes, his fists clenched.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

His eyes flashed purple and then a bone-crushing squeeze shrivelled the TV into half its original size. It spiralled across the room and crashed through a window, its momentum seemingly endless as it soared out deep into the night sky.

Heavily breathing, Cadell wildly punched and kicked the air. Cursing and pleading. Crying yet deliriously laughing. He jumped on his stomach, buried his face in the glass infested carpet and squeezed his eyes.

Please be a dream. This must be a dream.