SpellShocked (SpellShocked Saga: Book 1)

Chapter 6 - Harvey

I could feel rain hitting my face as I ran; at some point it had started to drizzle lightly, and I was grateful for the cool spray hitting my warm, tear stained face. My lungs were burning with the effort of running; I wasn't the most athletic person – I'd much rather curl up with a good book than go to a gym.

I had been running full out for about five minutes before I was forced to slow down to a jog. Ten minutes later, I was barely able to keep walking. I looked at my surrounding for the first time since I had started running and I recognised an old, abandoned gas station that I knew was on the outskirts of town.

I stumbled over to a low, crumbling wall at the back of the gas station and collapsed onto it. I put my head between my legs to stave off the light-headed feeling that was making my head spin. As I sat there, eyes closed and breathing deeply, I couldn't help but feel a little thankful that I seemed to have exercised the panic and the crying out of me. I still felt like shit but at least I wasn't gasping for air because of anxiety, just because of my poor fitness level.

It took a few minutes, but eventually the dizziness passed, and I was able to sit up straight again. At some point the rain had become heavier and now that I had cooled down, I was starting to shiver. I wrapped my arms around my waist, comforting and warming myself up.

I hadn't really thought about anything while running; I had mostly been focused on how embarrassed I was and how unfair my life had become, so all I wanted to do at that point was run away from my problems. But now that I was sitting still, and oxygen had returned to my head, my brain was working on overdrive. What was I supposed to do now? I knew that running away wouldn't actually solve anything, particularly since they were fully grown sorcerers and if they wanted me to go with them then I couldn't really do anything to stop them from taking me.

And as much as I didn't want to admit it, a small, traitorous part of me believed they were right to want to take me with them; if I really was more powerful than other sorcerers my age then I really did need to get a handle on my magic in case I seriously hurt someone. Images of that fireball narrowly missing Zac's head made me feel sick.

But a larger, more stubborn part of me really didn't want to leave. Okay, so I had no friends aside from Zac, and I was a social outcast. Not to mention that I was a closeted gay kid and I had panic attacks every other day. My life was a mess...but it was still my life. It was all I had ever known, and I couldn't leave Zac or my parents behind to go somewhere where I'd be even more alone and afraid than I already felt I was. I seriously didn't think I had the strength to face going to some school, god only knows where, and face the inevitable ridicule and humiliation of being the weird kid who didn't have magic until 2 days ago and couldn't even handle it; I felt sure I'd be laughed out of the door.

I was drawn from my thoughts by a buzzing in my pocket. I pulled my phone out of my wet jeans and wiped water off of the screen; Zac was calling me. I briefly considered answering, but I was still ashamed of how I'd acted, and I didn't really want to face anyone right now, so I let the call continue to ring out.

Suddenly, the sound of the vibrating phone seemed to fade, as did the sound of the rain splashing against puddles and the road. I could almost hear my heart beating in my chest, and my surroundings seemed to be growing sharper and clearer, the falling raindrops slowing down around me. This wasn't a new sensation; it was the exact same thing that had happened to me yesterday when that bullet was speeding towards me, except this time I felt sure that it wasn't a dream, or a reaction to a stressful situation. But I knew better now. This was magic, my magic, and I think...it was trying to sharp my focus.

I looked around in front of me, searching for something, anything, that would explain why my magic was reacting like this. There was nothing. But this point I could feel the hairs on my neck and arms standing to attention. I can't explain how I knew this, but I had this overwhelming belief, almost a certainty, that someone was watching me. It wasn't like the regular sensation of thinking you're being watched or talked about, that typical paranoid feeling; it was something more. It was like a voice in my head had said 'Someone is watching you, studying you,' except nobody had spoken, out loud or as an internal voice. It was more like the voice conveyed the message without using words and just transmitted the feeling.