Of Monsters, Of Men

Chapter 1

"Think twice before you refuse me again, freak!" Billy taunted.

Harry glared at Billy with all his might as he carefully plucked the larger shards from his palm. As Billy sauntered away like a cat boasting its latest kill, Harry smoldered.

The rest of the orphans dispersed from the area, uninterested now that Billy had one upped him. Harry curled his lip.

I hate you!

His vision was tainted red. His hands shook as he stared at the broken bits embedded in his skin, from anger or pain or both, he wasn't sure. His lenses had shattered into jagged shards, the tiny pieces of glass coarse, rough, and irritating as they bit into his palms. The rim had bent inwards, while the end pieces warped unnaturally. The nose pads had fallen off.

"How dare he!" Harry seethed.

Now, there was no way he'd be able to see ten feet in front of him. Of course, Mrs. Cole would never buy him another pair of glasses.

She hates me! Harry despaired, tensing his shoulders. For as long as Harry could remember, she had always sent him disapproving and irritated looks and snapped at him no matter his attempts to please her.

Oh god, she's gonna make me clean up the glass in front of her. She'll call down the orphans so they can watch me as she lectures everyone about how I'm a stupid, bad child.

Harry's cheeks burned with the thought of his impending public humiliation. Turning frantically to Tom, he exclaimed, "Tom, what should I do?"

Tom regarded him coldly as he pushed his bench back, stood up, and walked away, his head held high. He never looked back.

The bastard.

Harry gnashed his teeth and crouched back on the ground. Anger and humiliation clawed at his insides, leaving a trail of bloodied and battered flesh in its wake as it struggled to erupt through his skin.

The edge of the glass shards cut deeper into his palm as he clenched his hands. Crimson blood welled at each wound site.

God, I wish this never happened!

Billy had publicly humiliated him. Worse, Tom had shunned him in his moment of need. What was next? Getting kicked out onto the streets? The next few weeks were going to be hell. If only he could find a way to fix everything...

He closed his eyes, avoiding looking at the sight of his failure and shame, feeling it taunt him through the flimsy barrier of his eyelids.

Please... I just want everything to be better, Harry begged.

"How did you fix it?" Tom's voice bordered on a hiss, startling Harry into opening his eyes. Tom was uncomfortably close to his face, his brows scrunched in anger and shock and disbelief. Harry shrank back, only noticing that Tom was frantically gesturing to his glasses.

On the ground, Harry's glasses were fixing themselves. The curved rims slowly unbent as the nose pads reattached to the pad arms. Large glass shards slowly rose from the floor and tiny glass shards from the insides of his palm and fitted themselves neatly into rims, like a puzzle coming together.

A smile spread across his face, and Harry forgot all about Tom. He cupped his repaired glasses with gentle fingers, avoiding touching the newly fixed pair to his bloodied palm. His anger faded, replaced by a fluttering warmth that blossomed with each reverent breath.

"Tell me how!" Tom hissed, his expression fierce and dumbstruck as Harry's eyes snapped to Tom.

An itch grew at the tip of Harry's tongue, spreading through his mouth and along his tongue, down his throat and into his gut where it finally stopped and festered. His hands tingled and his eyes watered. Harry wanted to scratch himself all over, shrug off the feeling, shake himself out, but he found that he couldn't. He was stuck in place as a pressure on his throat appeared, his tongue growing heavier by the second. Panic flooded his system, and Harry felt as if he were internally flailing without having anything physical to show for it.