|X-Men: Apocalypse|
The world had changed when she was six. A woman, who they began to call a mutant, saved the president. Vale Samson never knew that she was like that woman, someone with strange gifts.
Years passed and she felt something stra...
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19:04, June 8, 1983.
The boy ran as fast as his legs could carry him. He flashed his pursuers a glance and sped faster, shoving through a large group of party goers.
His breathing grew heavy, he shook his curly hair, eyes searching frantically for an escape rout. The boy cornered a brick building. He skidded to a halt in front of the dead end. The teen turned to the entrance and brought his hands down to his sides, palms facing the ground.
The boy scrunched his features as he widened his stance.
"Raise you hands were we can see them!" A man yelled as he and his co-workers arrived. The teen kept his arms still.
They proceeded to pursue him, this time in a slower manner. The boy had them right were he wanted them.
Jacob Pryor smiled apologetically at the startled police officers who we're subjected to decreasing gravity. The familiar free falling tingles washed over him as he lifted in the air. Garbage that had littered the ally joined them.
The four men rose as he calmly maneuvered across the narrow passage way. Jacob dropped himself outside the ally, a spine fracturing sound followed shortly after. His eyes widened at the broken police men's bodies.
Jacob scrambled away from the scene and ran across the road. He glued his eyes straight ahead, trying hide his rapid breathing while he walked down the lively downtown streets. The boy tugged his backpack straps closer to him.
A scream erupted from the other side of the street. Jacob quickened his steps.
5:41, June 9, 1983.
"Hey, kid." An almost Jersey accent shook Jacob's shoulder. "You can't sleep on this bench."
The early morning breeze grazed over his face. Jacob gave out a groan, throwing the man a squinted glace.
The slightly hunched, elderly man wore a baseball cap over his white thinning hair. He sported a mustache with large dark glasses that sat on the bridge of his nose. A green park ranger vest hung from his shoulders over a plan white shirt.
The boy nodded in reply and sat himself up. The ranger swiftly boarded his golf-cart and sped off.
Rich murky air wafted off the James River and filled Jacob's lungs. The teen hunched his stiff back and raked his hand through his wiry hair.
Jacob tore out a half eaten sandwich out of his backpack. All of that chasing for this one little tuna club. Without another thought the boy wolfed down the sandwich.
This was his life. It was a constant cycle that had repeated every day for the longest time. Wake up and steal food or someone's hard earned money. He'd run under some bridge or a park and rest before walking to the next town. There was never time to enjoy his surroundings.
Jacob was lucky that when he got caught he'd out run the authorities. He only used the strange thing inside of him for emergencies or when he was trapped. Jacob promised himself since that day he'd never try letting it go. To not hurt anyone on purpose.
Since that day he held it back and ran. Since that day Jacob's life became this rerunning episode of hunger and thievery.
The teenage boy wished that he could change what had happened. He wished the boy wasn't dead. Jacob still wondered after all this time if he could change what they thought of him. Sadly, he knew better than to be hopeful.
Sun light beamed through the light clouds, bringing it's much needed warmth.
Letting out a sigh, the teen mutant started the vicious cycle once again.
PS.
*cringes* It's so short...
Finally got Jacob's POV! How was it?
I know it's out of the blue and things don't make sense, but they will I PROMISE.
And kudos to you for reading this far...I never expected it really.
