Empathy means, your pain in my heart.

Nicholas Prewit squeezed his chest in agony and fell to the ground. The other students rushed over. Impaled in his sternum was a two-foot long spike. In front of him stood Marty Helm.

To the unobservant, Marty had just stabbed Nicholas with a blade from his book bag. A nearby teacher grabbed Marty by the collar and pinned him to a wall.

“It was an accident I swear!” Marty screamed. But it was too late for that and it was too late for Nicholas.

It was too late for all of them.

Marty clenched his muscles in pain. His bones began to contract and jut from his spine with a terrible clicking noise. Jagged shards emerged from his elbows, piercing through his sleeves. His kneecaps hardened into blades. Then all went quiet.

Marty opened his eyes. He was back to normal. Nicholas was no longer bleeding on the floor and the fight that brought out Marty’s “talent” had never happened.

A figure approached him and whispered, “You’re not very good at keeping secrets, are you?”