“You’ve got the wrong guy!” he shouted, dazed and confused.

The teenage boy was struggling at the hands of an older man who’s breath reeked of alcohol. The boy shuddered against his firm grip, desperate eyes squinting up to the bearded man’s face.

“You tellin’ me you ain’t the one that knocked over my bike?” The man growled, and with tightening fingertips, the boy was pulled an inch closer to his face by the shirt.

Ah shit, he’d forgotten. On the way into the bar he’d leaned on a bike, and to follow that, the bike had fallen onto the ground. The boy had picked it up quickly, but he couldn’t have not known that the man would’ve noticed, after all he left the bike with a few ugly dents and scratches.

“Look, man, I’m sorry. It was an honest mistake, I swear!” He insisted, biting his lip. He felt a jolt of electricity rush through him and in that moment his face contorted, ‘oh fuck’ the boy internally groaned, before the electricity erupted throughout his fingertips.

The shock sent the man flying backward, and it left the boy on the floor. Some superpower he had, if he got to choose, he would’ve chosen invisibility, or flight, or something.

But no, he was stuck with conducting and controlling electricity. And the worst part about it was that most days he didn’t have control over his own abilities.

“Sorry.. ah, shit, sorry..” he groaned from the ground, angling his head up far enough to see the man sprawled out on the ground. With an aching back, the boy got to his feet. He backed away apologetically and began to run: he was not willing to see what the man-or his friends would do to him now.