Villainous [Orginal]

II

Is it possible to lose everything you had in a single night? 

Skylar found out (the hard way), that yes - you can. He stared up at the ceiling, feeling every heartbeat contract within his chest: wondering if his heart would simply give out. The walls around him were yellowed and the wallpaper upon them was peeling off in long strips. He hadn't been able to afford a better accommodation, and nobody but this shady motel had been willing to give him a room to begin with. The world already knew about his plight, about who and what he was. The blonde was sure that it was likely people all over the country were mocking him. He tossed an arm over his eyes, it was the middle of the night. Yet how could he sleep? The moment the sun breaks over the horizon - he'll be off to Montana to the middle of its thick forests, not even to a city. 

Traveling by train, not even a magnetic one - a steam engine, to his school. More like prison, when he reviewed the cheesy postcard-like invitation he received. It was a massive Gothic castle, looking like it would crumble in the softest brush of wind. A massive iron fence surrounded the woods and land it encompassed. He'd been boarding there: for a whole year - before he would have the choice to live at home.

He huffed. 
Like he'd ever set foot in that lavish house. Skylar feels the sheets beneath him and winced at the rough feeling that ran across his hands. He missed his satin sheets. He missed his chandlers and butlers. He slipped a hand into his pocket and drew out his wallet - now a useless paper weight, there was nothing in it: and nothing on the cards it held. Tears came, for the second time since he had taken his Destiny Test. Yesterday: he had spent all the money he could - in a blinded blurr of despair. The debit card and credit card were empty of every cent, and the things he bought - weren't even cool or that expensive. It was all simply, a last ditch effort to get back at his parents. Spiteful shopping, it wasn't fun. Skylar much preferred to shop for what he wanted - not just spend money mindlessly. 

Dozen of bags full of designer clothes were in his motel room, but the only thing he could bring on the train itself: was his single suitcase- stuffed as full as he could get it.the rest would be transported by the school's faulty - and like hell he trusted them not to steal anything he owned. He stiffened as he felt water roll down his face and drip onto the scratchy sheets. He wiped at the tears, but they simply kept flowing: running down without any sign of stopping. His phone buzzed, it had to be the hundredth time that Kiwi was attempting to get ahold of him - but like hell he would answer. 

He knew that the Pro Hero meant well, but what did he have to tell Skylar that he hadn't already heard: from the lying mouths of his parents. 

"We'll love you no matter what!"

"A father's love is forever, Skylar. Don't forget that." 

"Liars..."the young man mumbled under his breath the single word itself wavering: as sobs broke through his lips, chest heaving. "Fucking liars." 

He surprised himself with the intensity of the curse, Skylar wasn't the kind of guy who spilled vile words out with ease. Or unconsciously: he was raised better. To curse, was to appear crude. He slowly sat up, and he found his tears starting to dry a bit - as slowly sadness gave way: to embers. The embers of anger, that would slowly spark against one another, until they leap up as the tongues of flames called rage. His body shook softly. 

"Those fucking liars!" He screamed out, slamming a hand down onto the mattress. The air around him started to hum - the sound resembling the deadly tingling of an active electric fence. The yellow light above him, which hung exposed to the air, a single lonely bulb began to flicker on and off. Small sparks of blue began to flare off his body leaving small charr marks in the sheets. "Filthy...liars..."