The Mistletoe

Chapter II

Years went by, and I began to feel less sleepy. I reckon that at 14, I slept only about 4 hours and used the remaining time to play World of Warcraft or Call of Duty online. If I wasn't on my phone, I was chatting with people online.

I noticed many of my classmates were starting to develop, and I was falling behind. However, I could feel myself growing, and my legs hurt. I felt more energetic, but I had constant earaches, and my nose started to pick up strange smells that I hadn't noticed before. In my classes, I remember using a magnifying glass for biology lessons and realizing I didn't need it. These were subtle changes, but I could notice them.

Another thing that made me nervous was how slow time and people became; it felt like everything was moving in slow motion. During this time, I asked my dad to enroll me in karate classes offered at school, and he happily agreed, especially because he was concerned about my addiction to computer games and the smartphone.

I noticed that while practicing, I felt a fire within me, similar to when I played war games, and the sensei looked at me with a certain fascination.

"It's as if you've practiced it before; you have a really natural talent!" he said proudly.

The sensei invited my father to observe the classes and watch my progress. My father was really happy, but I could tell there was a worried look on his face; there was something he wasn't telling me.

At night, when I went to bed, occasionally, I noticed something by my window, shrouded in the darkness of the night. I thought it might be an owl, but it had something supernatural, an odd aura.

My karate classes were progressing, and we had to do exercises to break boards. The sensei noticed how easily I could break them. I hadn't realized it until then. When I mentioned it to my father, we started to prepare a sort of gym/laboratory in the basement.

First, we collected cement bags, blocks, and boards, and later, with more money, we bought weights, while he took notes from the letter my mother had sent.

"You mentioned that your sensei noticed you could break the boards more easily?" My father asked.

"Yes," I said, adding, "I don't know if it was technique or strength."

My father pondered for a bit, then brought a cement block and said, "Let's see, break it with your fists."

I prepared my hand and struck it with all my might; the block broke. Immediately, my father examined my knuckles.

"Nothing," he said; my knuckles were intact. He brought a second block and said, "Break it, but use less force this time."

I hit it with less force, and the block didn't break.

"What if..." my father thought. He seemed uncomfortable but went upstairs, fetched a knife, and handed it to me.

I understood immediately and tried to cut myself, hoping to activate my rapid regeneration. Nothing, no cut, my hand was intact.

I quickly brought a hammer and a nail. My father, a little disturbed, said, "No, Miguel, not now, it's dangerous."

I promptly took the hammer and tried to nail it; the nail broke... nothing.

"I'm invulnerable!" I exclaimed, filled with jubilation.

My father, staring fixedly at my hand, contemplated the consequences of what this meant. Then he added, scratching his beard:

"If you fall ill, they won't be able to give you injections or perform more blood tests. If you suffer an internal injury, they won't be able to operate... We still don't know if your bones or internal organs are also like this, son, this is serious."