Should A Cripple Parent A God-Tier (Unordinary)

Prologue

The clock switched from 1:40 to 1:41. It was early morning and John, no matter how hard he tried, couldn't sleep.

Whenever he closed his eyes, all he could see was his classmates lying on the ground. He could see their broken bodies, the blood seeping from their heads. The images of Adrion and Claire on the ground, the turf covered in blood. He could hear them screaming, crying, begging him to stop, to just admit defeat. He could hear Adrion's cries as John held him against a wall. He could hear Claire yelling at him, her words coated in venom as she called him a monster.

She was right.

He was a monster.

As if that wasn't bad enough, when he did get sleep, the images were so much more real. The limbs of his dead classmates grasping at him. Shouting, crying out about how horrible he was. They screamed that he didn't deserve this power. That he was a shit king and needed to die.

They were right of course, but he couldn't just off himself.

So here he laid in his bed, staring at the clock as it continually switched numbers. 1 to 2 to 3 to 4 to 5 to 6 to 7 to 8 to 9 and then back to zero. He watched, over and over and over. It's what he deserved after all.

John's eyes shifted to the book that was resting next to his digital clock. Unordinary. It was a book his dad wrote to help him cope. A book detailing a powerful figure that helped the weak. If the fact that it was dedicated to him wasn't a big enough sign, then the god-tier protagonist definitely was. His dad was trying to tell John that he could be a hero to the rest. He could use his power for good.

His dad was wrong though. John could barely control himself without this overwhelming power. With the power, he was too unstable. John was a monster. His classmates were right, he didn't deserve his power. It was better forgotten.

And that is exactly what John was going to do. The next morning he had promised himself that he was going to start trying to get "better", he just wasn't going to use his ability. It was the cause of all of his problems, so if he just didn't use it then all of his problems would just go away.

Perfect.

The knock on the front door was not planned, however. Immediately John glanced back at his clock. Maybe he was so deep in thought that it had turned to morning. Nope, the clock showed 1:51. It had only been ten minutes and someone was knocking on the front door at 2 in the morning. What the fuck.

At first, John tried to ignore it. Whoever it was could come back at a more reasonable time. So he went back to staring at the clock. 1 to 2 to 3 to 4 to 5 to 6 to- It was 1:58 and the knocking had not stopped. At this point, the teen was starting to get annoyed. Who knocks for 7 minutes. It wasn't even a nice rhythmic knocking that one could possibly fall asleep to. No, this was the type of knocking that was akin to someone tapping their pencil. Over and over and over and over.

When the clock hit 2:05 John had enough. He didn't care if it was just someone waiting to murder him on the other side of the front door. He just wanted it to stop. So John slowly got up from his bed and walked down the dark hall.

At first, he thought about waking his dad up but quickly thought against it. His dad had to deal with enough as it is and if it was a murderer, John would rather himself than his dad. So he quietly passed his dad's door and made it to the front door where the knocking could still be heard.

As silently as possible, John peered through the peephole. And boy did he regret even leaving the safety of his bed.

Shit. Fuck. Oh god. Why couldn't it have been murderers? On the other side of the door, two figures sat waiting, one still knocking on the door. And both of them John recognized from his time at the readjustment facility. The only saving grace was that Keon wasn't there. Still, his worst nightmare was knocking at his front door at 2 in the morning and John was panicking.