Alexis Tilelli in black dress

Alexis Tilelli in black dress
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It's funny, four years ago, I was working so hard to get this story done and uploaded before the 21st. I succeeded back then, but not this time. Oh well, it's not like there's the same pressure. Anyway, I think the world needs this chapter now more than ever. Enjoy! Chapter 6 BANG! The gunshot rang out to the sound of the flight attendant's cry of pain as the bullet pierced her shoulder. "Turn this plane around or I'm going to start killing passengers!" the man yelled, waving his gun at anyone who made the slightest of moves.

The screaming of terrified men and women filled the cabin as people realized that the plane had just been hijacked. While one of the passengers tried to help the wounded flight attended, the hijacker banged his gun against the locked cockpit door and repeated the order. Regardless of their fear, many passengers began recording the event with their phones, not knowing what else to do. Next to his father, Jack sat calmly in his seat, calculating his next move. He wasn't smiling, but he looked immune to the prospect of fear.

It had taken him less than a second to figure it out: this was the return flight from New York to Portland and the hijacker had picked it for a suicide bombing attack against New York. They were barely in the first stage of the flight, but that made it the best time for the terrorist to make his move, because it meant that the plane was still loaded with fuel and would cause more damage when it crashed. Taking a deep breath, Jack stood up and stepped out into the aisle. ------------------------------------------------------ Victoria was sitting in her living room with her parents, listening to the evening news.

She was watching the clock, counting down the minutes until Jack's plane would land. He had only been gone for two days, but it felt like an eternity. She couldn't wait to see him again. On the TV, the ongoing story on the fiscal cliff was interrupted by a sudden announcement from Brian Williams, who was speaking in a very serious and nervous tone. This wasn't good. "Ladies and gentlemen, we're receiving word that a plane traveling from New York to Portland has just been hijacked by a terrorist." Victoria's parents nearly jumped from their seats while Victoria sat petrified, unable to breathe or move and feeling like her heart had just dropped right into her stomach.

It couldn't be true, it couldn't be… Of all things to happen, a terrorist hijacks a plane and takes the man she loved hostage?

Was he about to become one of the first casualties in the next 9/11? Was she going to lose the only man she had every truly loved and been close to? "We are now going to play for you a recording of the terrorist's demand through the plane's radio. I should warn you, this might be graphic," said the news anchor before the screen became dark. "My name is Gerard Ali Lenaen, servant of the mighty Allah! For too long, the hedonistic nation of America has bullied the world and defecated on the religions of others!

They have raped the homelands of my Muslim brothers and forced innocent people out of their homes to build the Zionist empire! Enough is enough! It is time for America to learn that it doesn't rule the world and that it can't do whatever it wants! It is time for this country of infidels to be put in its place!" the Middle Eastern man shouted into the radio before the line went silent. The screen went back to Brian Williams, who was listening to his earpiece.

"Wait, we're now getting a live feed of the scene, via cellphone. Ladies and gentlemen, we shall broadcast this for as long as we can and keep the passengers on that plane in our hearts and prayers." The screen once again changed, this time showing a trembling low-quality view of the cabin of the plane.

The point of view was from just past the middle of the cabin, showing the terrorist standing near the cockpit and a teenage boy in the aisle, completely calm, even with a pistol pointed at him. The man looked to be in his late thirties with an unshaven face and dark complexion, while the teenager looked pale with blond hair. "Jack…" Victoria whispered with tears rolling down her face.

------------------------------------------------------ "Gerard Ali Lenaen, my name is Jack Owen, and it is a pleasure to meet you. While the circumstances may not be right for a friendly chat, I'm hoping that you and I can talk.

I promise, I mean you no harm," Jack said with his usual carefree smile. "No! No talking! Get back in your seat or you'll die!" "I would think that you would want to talk. After all, I can't imagine this being anything but a suicide attack, and you can't expect me to believe that you are so willing to go to your grave without at least voicing your concerns and making sure that you are completely understood.

As you can see, this moment is being recorded and streamed through many cell phones, don't you want to use this opportunity to spread your message as clearly as you can?

Use this chance to make sure the world understands your reasoning, what drives you." "This is your last warning, boy! Sit down or I will shoot!" "So you won't solidify your beliefs for the world or make sure that your message is clear, and neither will you indulge my humble request for a conversation.

Pardon my boldness, but it seems to me like you are having doubts about what you are doing. The other passengers have been moving quite a lot since you made your declaration, and you know as well as I do that they are waiting for their chance to try and apprehend you. However, instead of focusing your attention on the individuals who look like they could cause the most trouble, you are keeping your gun pointed at me, with the only movement coming from the trembling of your hand. From this, I can ascertain that you are more afraid of my words than you are of the violent actions of the other passengers.

You would rather face an attack, imprisonment, or even death, instead of taking an in-depth look at your motives through talking. You are afraid that you will be convinced to stop what you are doing, to be told that you are wrong for making this choice, and will see that you made a mistake. You feel like my words can inflict far more harm than any desperate attempt to take your weapon or subdue you. I assure you that I have no intention of making any violent acts against you, and I ask that my fellow passengers please hold off on any attempts to change the situation, at least so that you and I can have an uninterrupted conversation.

If you truly are afraid of my words, then doesn't that mean you should talk to me? Won't facing me head on strengthen your own conviction? You have nothing to fear from a simple conversation unless you let it affect you." His face contorting in anger, Gerard pulled the trigger, shooting Jack in the right side of the chest.

In her living room, Victoria tearfully screamed Jack's name, refusing to believe what she had just seen. Harold Owen was in the same state, about to rush over to Jack's side before his son stopped him. Staggering back but staying on his feet, Jack took several haggard breaths while covering the wound in his chest.

Already, blood was pouring from his front and back, as well as dripping from his mouth, but regardless, he stayed standing and maintained his smile. "Well, that's one experience that I certainly wouldn't mind not repeating," he chuckled, as if without a care in the world. Everyone on the plane was in awe, unable to believe what had just happened and what was happening now.

"What the fuck are you?! Why aren't you dead?!" Gerard shouted, shaking so badly that he could barely hold his gun straight. "Oh, don't worry, you've definitely inflicted a mortal wound. I'll probably only last a few more hours if I don't receive medical attention.

The human body truly is a miraculous creation, and contrary to TV, it is built to withstand heavy damage. The chest especially has been shaped to protect and prolong the life of the organs, so much so, that it often takes several rounds directly to the vital organs to kill someone, not like that deadly one-shot kill that you always see in the movies.

I admit, that was very painful and it is becoming difficult to breathe, but evolution gave us two lungs, so there is no reason to just quit and die when one gets damaged. It hurts, but I don't mind." Everyone on the plane was dumbstruck, unable to believe what they were hearing and seeing.

Who was this kid?! By now, almost everyone in the country was watching what was happening, and among them, Victoria, Kelly, Tyler, and the rest of Jack's friends were almost smiling. This was the Jack they knew. "Now, since you shot me, I think you at least owe me that conversation. I'm rather curious as to how you snuck that firearm onboard. Clearly you weren't carrying it with you when you got on the plane, x-rays and body scans can detect even non-metallic firearms and weapons.

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I imagine that the gun was hidden on the plane before your arrival, meaning that either you or a co-conspirator has a job at the airport, working as a janitor or repairman. Was it hidden in the seat? In the bathroom? In a secret compartment?" "Under the seat, I work as a janitor," his opponent reluctantly admitted. "Ah, they did something like that in The Godfather if I remember correctly, very clever. Now please, tell me about yourself.

Tell me why you made this decision," Jack said before coughing into his sleeve. "I was born in Palestine and raised as a child in Gaza for many years, my parents forced out of Israel upon its founding and dominance by the Jews. Eventually, my family had to flee to Iraq to escape from the conflicts over the Gaza Strip.

I've been a devout Muslim all my life and taught to believe in the love of Allah, but when my parents were murdered in the bombing of Bagdad by your government, I was forced to take my wife and children and leave.

I tried to forgive America for killing my mother and father, I even moved to the states in the hope that my children could live a better life and escape the violence brought on by the war you started. But after 9/11, America became hell for us.

Your hate-filled monsters tormented us mercilessly! My children were tormented, I lost my job and spent years getting turned down by everyone I talked to in the search of work, and finally, my wife was murdered, killed in the streets for her faith! We left America right afterwards and returned to Iraq, only for some faceless US drone to kill my children in a bombing raid! I couldn't even bury them, for there was nothing left but blood and gore splattered across the rubble!

This country has taken everything from me! It's ruined my life! And yet you selfish Americans look down on my country and my people! What makes you so special? What gives you the right to take what you want and destroy the rest?! I've had enough of this country, it's time for America to learn the meaning of justice and know what it feels like to be victimized!" he shouted with his eyes beginning to tear up. The cabin was silent as everyone tried to stomach the words.

The pain in Gerard's voice was more real than anyone had expected or witnessed. They had heard things like this before, stories like Gerard's on the news and in TV shows, but never before had they ever heard one in real life. The same silent scene was taking place in every TV room, with every viewer just letting Gerard's speech sink in. Even Jack had removed his smile, when not even a bullet could make him. "Your anger is understandable, however, do you really think this is the best choice?

Do you really think that this will bring justice?" "What are you talking about?" "Look around you, Gerard, do you really think the people on this flight are as guilty as you want them to be?

Look at the children cowering with their parents. Do you think they bullied your kids, bombed your town, and killed your family? They didn't, Gerard, everyone here is innocent, and so too are the people in New York who will die if you crash this plane. No life is equal to another, so do you really think that killing innocent Americans is equal to killing innocent Iraqis? If someone killed one of the people you loved, would you get your revenge by killing the first random person you saw?

Would that really be justice? And even if this plane was filled with the people who were guilty for the pain in your life, you would be just as bad as them if you go through with this. There would be no justice, because while you may take their lives in vengeance for the lives of your family, you are just creating more victims in the form of their loved ones.

If you were face to face with the man who killed and raped your wife, you might consider it justice to kill him, but can you look into the tear-filled eyes of that man's loved ones and tell them that they must suffer the losing of someone they cared about to satisfy your own bloodlust? Can you tell them that they are not entitled to justice since you are?

You cannot hurt someone without hurting everyone who cares about them. Even in vengeance, all you do is create more victims who feel the same pain as you and are equally entitled to what you call justice. Think of all the people here; think of their friends and families, their loved ones.

Do you think the pain that the people who care about them will feel at the news of their deaths is any less legitimate or deserving as the pain you felt when you lost your family? Gerard, there is no justice here." He lowered his gun a few inches, but did not point it away from Jack. "You're just trying to stop me because I'm attacking you and your country! If you weren't here and weren't from America, you wouldn't care, you wouldn't have any stake in this!

No one cares about the people of my country, they only care about the people of theirs!" "You're wrong, Gerard, I care no more about America than I do Iraq or Palestine. Nations and borders mean nothing to me, because I don't divide the people of this world. We are all people of Earth, we share the same home, the same emotions, and the same pain. No dividing ocean, line on a map, different language, or separate religion can change the fact that we are all one people, trying to find happiness and meaning in our lives.

American, Iraqi, Israeli, Muslim, Christian, Atheist… none of them mean anything unless we want them to and they only exist because people want to divide each other, but I don't. The land that you come from means nothing me, just as the land I come from means nothing to me, because aren't all from the same world and universe?

Gerard, you are not an Iraqi or a Muslim, and neither am I an American or an atheist. We are both people, shaped by the choices we make and our own perceptions of the world. The divisions created between people cause war and turmoil; they are born from our attempt to be different, even at our own expense and the expense of others. You and I may have different beliefs and different opinions, but I know the truth, and the truth is that you and I are exactly the same.

Now Gerard, you have a once in a lifetime opportunity here, one where you can do far more good than bad. The choice you make right now could change the entire world." "What are you talking about?" he asked, barely able to hold up his gun.

It felt so heavy in his hands, like it hurt to keep it lifted. A part of him was screaming to put it down, but he still couldn't. "What you said about the rise of discrimination after 9/11 could not be more true, I too have seen the hatred and paranoia that has been born in the aftermath of those attacks.

Bigots are targeting innocent Muslims and blaming them for the crimes of a few extremists, it sickens me. However, progress is slowly being made to repair the damage. Each day, the majority depiction of Islam is changing depending on the behavior of its members, but if you go through with this attack, you will hurt your own people more than you will hurt America. How many important buildings can you destroy with this plane?

How many lives can you take? Compare that to the amount of hatred that will be created in the aftermath. Prejudice and discrimination towards Muslims will skyrocket, the American people will carry a wound of hatred that will take decades to heal, and their paranoia will spread to the other countries, and they too will mistreat innocent Muslims out of fear and ignorance.

If you go through with this attack, then the people that you are trying to protect will just be victimized by the entire world. Your own people will be hurt more by your actions than America. " "Said by someone who doesn't care about Islam," Gerard cursed, merely trying to think of a reason to keep his gun raised, even if he consciously didn't recognize the desperation of the act.

"You're wrong again, Gerard, I have great respect for the Islamic world, and that respect has been given to me by history itself. Any competent historian would admire and be in awe of the progress brought forth by Islam, especially during the Islamic Golden Age. More so than the Renaissance of Europe, any enlightened era of Asia or the Mediterranean, or even the Industrial Revolution of America, I consider the Islamic Golden Age as easily the high point of human civilization, bringing forth the greatest growth spurt of knowledge, art, and social progress in all of history!

If I could travel through time, I would journey back to the 10th and 11th centuries and study geometry and advance mathematics in Córdoba, science and astronomy in the House of Wisdom in Bagdad, or philosophy and art in Mecca! The entire modern world, including America, was built on the knowledge collected and born in the Islamic Golden Age!

Our modern world owes your ancestors everything! After the Mongol invasion, Islam unfortunately fell from its peak, but now, you have a chance to help it move back in the direction of progress. The greatest stereotype of Islam is that it is a religion of ignorant violence, a stereotype that too easily becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy, but now you can prove everyone wrong.

Show the world that a Muslim who was about to wage an act of terrorism can see the light and return to being a man of peace! Show the world that no religion can be blamed for the choices of its fanatical minority! Show the world that the Islamic culture can once again be a shining beacon for mankind!" "It doesn't matter, they'll lock me up as soon as this plane lands," Gerard admitted, finally giving up. "But they can't silence you, and they can't hide what has transpired here.

Look at all these phones recording our conversation, each one holding the proof that even the most bitter Muslim is ready to forgive and believe in peace, just like any Christian, Jew, Hindu, Taoist, atheist, or other person of faith. The world is watching, Gerard. You have basically become the face of the Islamic culture, and now the world is watching and waiting to see which direction you turn your faith towards. Through the events of today and your work in the future, would-be terrorists will hopefully see that we can live in a peaceful world and that there is another way for Islam to regain the respect it once possessed, and bigots and racists will realize that we don't need to hate an entire group of people or an entire culture for the choices of the few." He then walked over to Gerard and held his hand out to him.

"What happens now is up to you, Gerard, and I will help you every step of the way if you need me to." Instead of replying, Gerard fell to his knees, sobbing with the pistol pressed against his forehead. "I can't give up! Something has to be done! My family is dead and I can't live without them!

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This is all I have left!" Wincing with flesh blood spurting from his wound and his breathing further labored, Jack got down on one knee. Cell phones surrounded the two men, all recording the conversation and transmitting it around the world. Jack leaned forward and grasped Gerard's shoulders, forcing the broken man to look into his eyes. "They are not gone, Gerard.

They are still with you, just as they always have been. I know your pain, believe me. Just a few days ago, I attended my mother's funeral. A drunk driver killed her, and my father and I flew down to Washington to visit my great aunt and uncle. I know what it's like to lose family, and that is why every word I speak to you here and now is the truth. Your family has not left you; they live on in your heart, in your memories, and in you.

You found a wonderful woman to marry and you created a family, but really, it is your family that created you. Your wife and children shaped you into who you are today, and the influence they had on you will never leave and never change. Even if you are alone, even if you live to be a hundred years old, the day will never come when you will look into a mirror and not see a husband and a father.

Every decision you have made, you made because you know the love of having a family and the pain of losing them. Every choice that you have made could not have been done by anyone who did not know what it was like to raise children and have a wife, and for the rest of your life, whatever path you choose to walk down will only be possible because of how your family made you. Think, Gerard, you know the pain of losing family, and instead of inflicting that pain on others, you have the chance to save them from it.

All the people on this plane and all the people in New York, you have the chance to spare them the same pain you went through. Ask yourself what has to be done, not as a terrorist, a man of Allah, or a native of the Middle East, but as a father and a husband. You know the decision you have to make." With a shaky hand, Gerard handed him the pistol and Jack, in turn, hugged him, letting the former terrorist shed every last pent up tear.

Jack looked up to one of the flight attendants. "Can you please tell the Captain to continue the flight to Portland? My girlfriend is waiting for me and I'd like to see her as soon as I can," Jack asked while Gerard cried on his shoulder.

------------------------------------------------------ "Jack! Jack!" Victoria tearfully cried out, sprinting through the airport terminal towards the gate where the plane had landed.

Before her was a sea of police, SWAT members, and reporters, all wanting to get a look at the terrorist and the hero who had stopped him.

Across all forms of media, the streamed cell phone videos were being played and replayed, with people all over the world either exploding in reaction to Jack's words or being left speechless. The entire world had been woken up when the news broke out that the plane had been hijacked and everyone was desperate to find out how a catastrophe had been avoided.

Every social media site was plastered with updates from the news and words of awe and admiration from the people who had watched the video. Victoria charged into the mob of spectators without any hesitation or doubt that she would reach Jack. She was going to make it through and see him, no matter how many people got in her way and how hard she had to fight through them. Even if the police maced and tazed her, she would not stop until she laid eyes on him.

Above her, elevated cameras began flashing wildly as the star of the show came out with the police forcing everyone back to open a path. He was carried on a stretcher with an oxygen mask hooked up to his face, saline and morphine running through his veins, thick layers of gauze covering his wounds, and his worried father clutching his hand. He was in critical condition, having lost almost half of his blood, and was doped with enough painkillers to stock an emergency clinic.

Regardless he refused to lose consciousness or his smile. To the sounds of everyone's applause, Victoria fought tooth and nail through the crowd, calling out Jack's name until she finally reached the open air and was held back by the arms of two security guards.

Jack was right in front of her, the two of them staring into each other's eyes. Victoria couldn't move, couldn't breathe, and couldn't think. All she could do was take in the sight of Jack's injury and the vast amount of blood that covered him. That image petrified her beyond anything she had ever experienced, the sight of man she loved so close to death after coming through hell. "Victoria," Jack whispered, inaudible beneath the reporters' clapping and questions, but more than strong enough to shake her from her paralysis.

"Jack. Jack!" she cried out, reaching out to him but being held back by the police. "It's ok, let her through," he said, barely able to speak. The officers gave in and Victoria rushed over, almost tackling the stretcher but managing to come to a stop.

Clutching Jack's hand, she burst into fresh tears, unable to voice how worried she had been and how relieved she now was. As Jack was moved further from the gate, a new rush of excitement ran through the barely civil crowd as Gerard was brought out by two officers, bound in handcuffs. "Wait, bring him over," Jack said to the men carrying the stretcher, and again to the police.

With reporters taking as many pictures as their cameras could hold, Gerard was brought over to Jack, while being held tightly by his two armed escorts to make sure he didn't try anything. Letting go of his dad's hand, Jack reached out and grasped Gerard's with surprising strength, as if his wound had never happened.

"Go with God," he murmured, those words one final gift to the man whose faith had been shaken. Jack then gave one final sigh and closed his eyes, having said what he wanted to say and now more than willing to let the pain meds kick in. ------------------------------------------------------ "You raised a truly amazing son," Victoria said, waiting with Harold in the ER, desperate for news on the results of Jack's surgery. The room was empty, save for the few generic people who always seemed to get hurt at night.

However, there was a crowd of reporters outside, eager for any news on Jack's condition. There was a TV up in the corner of the room set to the late-night news, and as expected, it was about the events in the plane. Mentally and emotionally exhausted, Jack's father laughed. "Not really. I fed him, clothed him, sheltered him, loved him, and did all the other things a good father is supposed to do, but none of the miracles he performs has anything to do with my parenting methods.

I don't know what he's been telling you. Hell, I barely understand the things he says, and he didn't learn any of that stuff from me." "It's hard to imagine Jack being this smart as a little kid, sitting on the jungle gym and preaching to his preschool followers." "He was, though he was never so outspoken about it.

For as long as I can remember, he's always just been a happy kid, wanting nothing more than to listen to music or for others to be happy. When he was little and we'd ask him what he would want for Christmas or his birthday, he'd grin as always and say he just wanted his mother and me to smile and be happy.

He was never the kind of child who was interested in toys or material possessions. Sometimes I think that maybe he was as smart now as he was when he was a little kid, and he's just been waiting anxiously to grow up so that he could be more outspoken about his views and not have to hide them." "Sometimes I wonder if he's even human." "I always knew Jack would do great things, everyone knew it, and I've just been waiting for him to make a big enough impact for people to realize it.

I can't think of anyone other than my son who could have possibly come up with the amazing things I heard up in that plane, and I doubt anyone can. This is what he was born to do." The surgeon stepping out of the operation ward, wearing a confident smile, interrupted them. "Doctor, how is my son?" "Don't worry, he's just fine. His bullet wound was one of the cleanest I've ever seen and the damage to the interior of the lung is surprisingly minimal. He'll have trouble breathing for a while and he won't be able to move well, but he'll make a full recovery in a month at most.

I must say, considering how long ago he was wounded, how much blood he lost, and all that he did, the stamina and will to endure that your son showed is nothing short of miraculous." "Can we see him?" Victoria asked. "Yes, but he'll be deep asleep. He needs to rest after everything he's been through." ------------------------------------------------------ "Morphine is a wonderful thing," Jack said, shocking Victoria with the very fact that he was wide-awake and talking normally, though he required an oxygen mask.

The two of them were alone; Harold was delivering the good news to friends and family by phone and would be back in a minute. "Jack…" Victoria whispered, trying to hold back tears. "Don't worry, Victoria, I'm fine." Ignoring what he said, she again ran over and tackled him, falling apart into a sobbing mess on his lap.

Jack could only chuckle and stroke her hair until she calmed down. "I was so scared, I thought I was going to lose you." "You'll never lose me.

I swear to you, as long as you are alive, I will never die. No matter what I must endure, I will do everything I can to keep you from shedding a single tear not in joy." "You mean everything to me, I don't know how I could possibly live without you." "You would find a way, you are too resilient to give up on life.

As long as you have the will to live, you can be happy every single day." "I can't believe it, I just can't believe it. Jack… what you did up there was the most amazing thing I've seen or heard in my life," Victoria admitted, pulling back and wiping away her tears.

"It was nothing. I just told him what he needed to hear." "As modest as ever. Don't even try and shrug off this heroic act." "No, I mean it. Anyone could have done what I did. We all have the capability to help each other, it all depends on how understanding we are and how much we want to save people, even if we ourselves are the ones we should be saving." ------------------------------------------------------ It was clear, the country considered Jack to be a national hero, but there was more to it than just the fact that he stopped the next big terrorist attack.

He had spoken with such clarity, wisdom, and experience, that people couldn't believe he was only sixteen years old. Many people were even checking the order of words to make sure he hadn't copied his speech from someone or something else. Videos taken from cell phones on the flight were now the most popular clips on YouTube, with every word he said being studied and analyzed.

Jack was being praised as a genius and prodigy, worthy of receiving the Nobel Peace Prize. Dozens of websites had been started, honoring him and spreading his teachings of love, forgiveness, worldwide unity, and coping with grief. On the news, on the radio, and even in classrooms, his speech was being taught and reviewed like the declaration of a historical figure.

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He was being used as an example across the globe, with his words being applied to international conflicts. Nowhere was this surge of adoration greater than in the Middle East, where Muslims were praising him for being able to see through the hatred and stigmas and release the truth. Anti-American sentiment and violent extremism were being replaced with loving pride and the desire to rebuild the image of the Islamic Word and its effects on the international community, with Muslims now wanting to surpass the rest of the world and become the societal model they once were.

As Jack had said, Gerard Lenaen became the face for all of Islam and was doing everything he could to repeat and spread what Jack had taught him. He had been arrested and was awaiting sentencing without bail, but the world was listening to him and paying attention to his new message. With the eyes of the world on him, the US government didn't have the nerve to toss him into Guantanamo Bay.

As expected, there were those of the right wing who criticized Jack as being an Islamist supporter and unpatriotic for not loving America, but there were more people who were even considering him to be the second coming of Christ. ------------------------------------------------------ Days passed and Jack remained in the hospital, every afternoon spent with Victoria greeting him. "More people are forming a fan club at school for you, declaring you a king among heroes." "I'm not a hero, I just did what I do best: fix problems.

Besides, I would have died if I had done nothing, so a lot of it could be simply explained as an act to ensure my survival." "Don't even try to act like you aren't a hero. Just yesterday, a teacher in an elementary school in Connecticut was able to talk down a crazed gunman before he started killing kids, she said she was inspired by you and tried to use what she learned from watching you.

And even if you don't consider what you did to be heroic, it was one of the most amazing things I had ever seen. By the way, how are you feeling? It looks like they took you off the heart monitor." "I'm feeling good.

The doctors say that the worst part is over and I should be fully healed in a couple weeks, but I can go home tomorrow. The only problem is that it hurts a little when I take deep breaths and moving is uncomfortable." A coy smile crossed Victoria's face.

"Then how about I do something to make you feel better?" She walked over to the door and shut it, making sure that no one could see them through the small window in the center. She then returned to Jack, shaking her hips from side to side while removing her sweater. Jack smiled as she climbed up onto the bed, crouching on all fours over him.

"You don't have to move or exert yourself, I'll take care of everything. You just lie back and relax and let me work my magic," she purred as she leaned forward and gently kissing him.

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As Victoria slipped her tongue into his mouth, Jack watched through the corner of his eyes as she unzipped her jeans and pulled them down her shapely ass, along with her skimpy thong. They French kissed for almost a minute, each of them voicing their emotions without a sound, instead letting their tongues and lips do the talking in a very moist conversation. After a minute, Victoria sat up and removed her shirt and bra, and fully pulled off her jeans and thong. On all fours and shaking her ass from side to side, she pulled away the blanket over Jack, as well as his hospital gown.

Already, his cock was engorged with blood and standing at attention. A wide smile on her face, Victoria leaned down and pressed his cock against her cheek, rubbing up against it like a cat against a table corner.

Holding out her tongue, she gave a long slow lick up the shaft and finished by giving the head a loving wet kiss. Licking her lips, she continued kissing it, then moved on and wrapped her lips around the head, toying with Jack while she flitted her tongue in the slit. Ever since Jack had been admitted to the hospital, Victoria had been given him get-well blowjobs each day, and her skill had certainly increased, already putting her in the same league as Kelly.

Jack even had to wonder if she had asked her for tips. Jack licked his lips and gave a shivering stretch as Victoria took his entire cock in his mouth, letting the head prod the back of her throat while she slathered the shaft with saliva. She kept her head still, with her eyes rolling back as she worked to keep her gag reflex under control. After a few seconds, she pulled back to catch her breath and spit on his cock, panting while she stroked him with her saliva as lubricant.

Once she was ready, she then moved forward, bringing her lap onto his. Grasping his wet manhood, she guided it into her pussy and lowered herself onto it, giving a coo of joy as it entered her. Jack too released a grunt from the wonderful sensation of being inside her, glad to again be able to feel Victoria's velvet sleeve. Once he was all the way inside of her, Victoria leaned forward and grabbed the corners of Jack's bed behind him, raising herself with the corners being used for leverage.

After giving him a soft kiss, she brought herself back down onto his cock. Repeating that movement, she leaned forward and lifted her body, proceeding then to slam herself back down. Moaning softly, she began playing this maneuver over and over again at greater and greater speeds. While Victoria bounced up and down on his cock, Jack leaned forward and licked her bouncing tits and kept his hands on her sculpted rear, helping her move up and down on him.

"Oh god, you feel so good! I love it when you're all nice and deep inside me!" Victoria whined over the unmistakable clapping of flesh against flesh. "I love you so much, Victoria, and your body feels so amazing. I never want to stop making love to you." Feeling her body approaching its first orgasm, Victoria doubled the intensity of her movements, bouncing on Jack's phallus like it was a pogo stick, while of course making sure he was never in discomfort and that her moans wouldn't be heard outside.

Within minutes, she was leaning back on one hand, using her other hand to touch herself while she rode him wildly. With each upward thrust of her body, her breasts would rise as if experiencing zero-gravity and then come back down like the weight of a trebuchet, bouncing like a couple of water balloons.

"Oh god, yes! Oh, that feels so good!" she cried out, rubbing her sopping wet pussy as she came. Without dismounting, she turned around with her back to him, staying on her knees and leaning forward. Moving only her lower body, she began bouncing her ass on Jack's lap, rising and falling on his cock while her ass cheeks jiggled and clapped which each downward thrust. Jack lied back with an amused smile, watching her shake her ass as she bounced up and down on his manhood almost desperately.

In her mind, Victoria was hornier than she had been in days, and feeling very kinky. Then, as if reading her mind, Jack began smacking and squeezing her jiggling ass, making her so hot and aroused that she wanted to cry out in sexual excitement.

Suddenly, without knowing what she was doing but desperate for further stimulation, she reached back and inserted her middle finger into her ass, causing Jack's eyebrows to rise in surprise and amusement.

Having never tried this before, Victoria was momentarily overwhelmed by the anal penetration of her finger, but instantly, she was moaning in euphoria, feeling so naughty and kinky.

Continuing to bounce on Jack's cock, Victoria fingered her asshole wildly, chewing on her hair to keep from screaming in joy. Finally, she pulled her finger out and sucked it clean, not even noticing any taste and instead focusing on the erotic act itself. With a yelp and a smile, she looked back at Jack, who had taken her place and was fingering her asshole.

"Goddamn, I love you. Jack, baby, I think I'm going to cum!" "Me too," he replied, working his index finger into her ass as well as his middle finger. Giving a shrill whine, Victoria had a gushing orgasm while Jack emptied his load into her pussy, filling her with semen. Dismounting him, she turned around and took his fingers in her mouth, hysterically licking them clean. She then crouched down and began sucking him off, licking up the mixture of pussy juice and sperm like her life depended on it.

It took less than a minute for Jack to have his second orgasm, shooting every last drop of cum he had onto her face and into her mouth, which Victoria eagerly licked up and swallowed. "Oh god, that was amazing," Victoria groaned, lying beside him. "Yeah, I think we found something new to use." "Slow down big boy, let's save that for your birthday." She got off the bed and walked over to the sink so that she could wash off her face and rinse out her mouth.

"All right, I have to go. I'll see you at home tomorrow?" "I'm looking forward to it," Jack replied before she came over and gave him a kiss. Smiling and giving him a small wave goodbye, Victoria opened the door and stepped into the hall, where a group of nurses and doctors were all waiting for her and trying not to laugh. ------------------------------------------------------ Leaning on a cane to take the weight off the right side of his chest, Jack stepped out of the hospital and into a crowd of photographers.

His father was with him, trying to clear a path to the car while over a dozen cameras flashed wildly. "Mr. Owen, you are due to receive the Medal of Freedom next week, do you have any comments?" a reporter asked. "I don't need a medal as a reward for what I did, all I need is the knowledge that I was able to help someone get onto the path of peace and that I did good in the world." "Mr.

Owen, what religion do you follow?" another member of the paparazzi asked. "I am an atheist, but I'm no sure there is a proper word for my beliefs. I do not need religion to guide me through life or decide my morals for me, I only need the desire to fix problems in this world and spread the word of love across all mankind." "Would you accept the Medal of Freedom if you were allowed to give a speech to the nation?" "If it would mean that I would have the chance to help people with my words and offer some guidance to those listening, then I would gladly fly to DC to receive the medal.

Now if you'll excuse me, I must head home and rest for school tomorrow." Jack said, finally reaching his car.

------------------------------------------------------ "I got to say, it's nice that you finally have a bed in here," Victoria said, sitting with Jack in his bedroom on the new foldout couch. She had skipped school to spend the day with him, and to pass time, they were playing cards while music played in the background. "Well the doctors say that I need to lie down as much as I can. Just going to school and sitting at a desk for several hours is pushing it.

While I prefer to meditate through the night, I admit that it is nice to finally have some furniture in here, especially since I finally have a reason to use it." "Yeah, I can't wait for you to get better so we can really break it in. By the way, I heard about the Medal of Freedom. Are you going to accept it?" "I will if they want me to. But I see no reason to place the value of what I did on a medal.

Though I do like the idea of being able to give a speech." "I think you should do it, speech or no speech.

I think it will really nail in everything you said on that flight. And if you are able to talk, you'll finally be able to teach the world. Besides, don't you want to be able to be able to show it to our future kids?" "All right, I'll do it." He finally said.

------------------------------------------------------ "So have you heard?" Kelly asked, sitting on the other side of the table from Tyler in the school cafeteria. "Heard what?" Tyler asked in return. "Jack is flying down to DC to receive the Presidential Medal of Freedom. He'll meet the president and give a televised speech." "Wow, that's cool," Tyler said, but not very convincingly. "What's up?

You've basically been a zombie for days." "Kelly, what do you know about Jack?" "We've been over that, I don't know very much about him. I know a tiny bit about his past and his hobbies, if that's what you mean." "I mean… have you ever noticed anything unusual about him? Other than his personality of course. Have you ever felt like he wasn't normal in some very distinct way?

Like he had some unnatural ability?" Kelly's brow furrowed, knowing where he was going. Had he also figured out that Jack was more than a regular human? "Have you talked to him about this?" "Yeah, when I visited him in the hospital. He told me he would answer all of my questions on his birthday, the 21st." "He told me the same thing…" Kelly said, causing Tyler to slowly look up from his food at her.

"So you have noticed something?" Kelly took a deep breath, knowing that there was no point in hiding it any longer. "Tyler, have you been having any weird dreams where Jack talks to you?" Tyler's eyes widened and he lost the ability to breathe, feeling like he had just taken a punch to the gut.

"Yeah, you too?" "It's more than that. Tyler, you and everyone in this school knows my reputation. You know I used to do hard drugs and whore myself out. I had gonorrhea, chlamydia, and even HIV.

But Jack… Jack cured me of all of it. He cured me of all my diseases, he purged me of all traces of drugs and took away my withdrawal symptoms, and he even restored my virginity. He did it through my dreams. I actually woke up in the middle of night, looked in the mirror, and realized that I had been cured.

It was almost like he was Freddy Krueger. I don't know who he is or even what he is.

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All I know is that he has some sort of power, something beyond ESP or mindreading, and it probably goes even farther than that." "He helped me get over my sister's death and taught me the meaning of life. On the night of his mom's funeral, he appeared in my dream and told me that he would be going on a trip, but when he returned, he would teach the three of us how to achieve our Selves. What happened on the flight obviously got in the way.

Do you think Victoria knows?" "From what it sounds like, people have to be told before they can actually figure it out. If Victoria knows about him, it's only because he told her, and I doubt he did. Right now, I'm just wondering what the hell will happen on the 21st." ------------------------------------------------------ Thunderous applause and cheering met Jack and Victoria as they walked into school.

Jack had finally returned and he was now a legend and a hero in their school, he would be the most favorite student to attend the school for years to come! As they maneuvered through the crowd, people congratulated Jack, patted him on the back, and thanked him for saving so many lives. Approaching with wide smiled were Tyler and Kelly, both glad to see Jack out of the hospital. "Welcome back, everyone has been dying to see you," Tyler said.

"Thank you, I've been longing to come back. How have things been without me?" "Other than people celebrating you every day like it's the end of WW2, pretty boring. Tyler and I have been waiting for you to come back, just so that we can see how everyone acts," Kelly giggled.

"Well they'll have something new to talk about soon. I'm being flown in to Washington this weekend, I'm going to receive the Medal of Freedom." ------------------------------------------------------ "So have you figured out why you differentiated yourself from everyone?" Jack asked, speaking to Victoria in one of her dreams.

"I think so," she said softly, looking up into space. Walking over, Jack laid down on the invisible ground beside her and wrapped his hand around hers. "Tell me about it." "When I was a little kid, my parents took me to a cemetery to visit the grave of my grandmother. While I was there, I came across many graves that had been abandoned and forgotten. They were overgrown and weathered down, scattered to the very fringes of the cemetery. No flowers had been placed in front of them in decades, and the caretaker certainly hadn't been maintaining them.

These people, they were completely forgotten by the world and their families. And it wasn't just them, I was walking past countless stones, engraved with hollow names and words that no longer meant anything. So many people live and die without ever leaving an impact or being remembered, They are never studied, never admired, never valued… it's like they become worthless.

From that point on, I was terrified of being forgotten. Going to that cemetery, I was basically scarred for life. I promised myself that I wouldn't become like those nameless skeletons under the earth, I wanted to be someone that people would remember.

I wanted to be the kind of person that would be known and mourned by the entire country, someone that students would write research papers on after finding me in their textbooks, someone who would leave a mark on history and always be remembered." "And in order to achieve that dream, you had to separate yourself from others and excel.

You had to see yourself as different so that history would see you as different. But you were young when you made this decision, and everyone knows that the dreams and aspirations of young children are mostly abandoned as they grow. So did your phobia of being forgotten, at least in its intensity and the manifestation of your desire to become famous. But even if this fear was buried in the back of your mind over time, you could not overcome that primordial desire to see yourself as different from others.

As the years past, the individuality turned into alienation. All humans face the grim prospect of death and all of its meanings. The fear of being forgotten lies in everyone's heart, for we are always plagued by the insatiable need to find value and meaning in our lives.

But in truth, no matter how hard we try, what we deem to be our legacies will never achieve immortality to the decay of time. Achilles, Leonidas, Alexander, Cesar… these are but a handful of the men who have sought immortality in legend and history, and for now, they are remembered and adored. But consider all those who wanted the same thing and have now been turned to dust. They all shared the same dream, but no one alive can tell you their names, their beliefs, their fears, or what their characters were.

Then you have those in between, those who were legends in their own time and achieved greatness, but now are forgotten. You need look no further than in our line of presidents. How many people do you know that can list off the name of every president, state their failures and accomplishments, the impact they left on the country, and their contributions to our present? I would imagine the number to be very few.

Even religions like Christianity are vulnerable to the effects of time. True, the name Jesus Christ has commanded power for two millennia, but do you have any idea how many religions there were before Christianity? Religions that commanded the same authority before being forgotten and buried in the past? Imagine if Earth was facing imminent destruction, so a fraction of its population boarded shuttles with what pieces of history and culture they could bring with them and took off, escaping to the closest inhabitable world and starting knew.

Even with everything they brought, how much history and culture do you think would be eternally forgotten? How strong do you think people's faiths would be when the world that their religions were born on was destroyed?

Everyone is eventually forgotten, there is no escaping that fact. What matters are the life you live and whether or not you are happy. If I die without changing the life of even a single person, I will still be content, because I will know on my deathbed that I lived a happy life and enjoyed what I did.

Even if my body were to be cast aside into a forest without the smallest grave marker and no one to remember me, I would be happy, knowing that the memories I have of my loved ones are real and will stay with me. Even if we cannot change the future in our likening, we can at least find comfort that the unchanging past will always be there to support us with its unfaltering reliability.

Tell me, Victoria, if you lived a happy life, would you mind being forgotten?" "I don't know." He sat up. "Let me rephrase it: if you could choose between living your life with me or being remembered in history, which would you choose?" He held his hand out to her with a smile, and mirroring that smile, Victoria grasped his hand and sat up with him. "I'd choose you, every single time," she murmured lovingly. "So if you lived a happy life with the man you loved, would you care about being remembered?

Would you be afraid of being forgotten?" Victoria took a deep breath. "No, I wouldn't. I wouldn't care and I wouldn't be afraid," she said, trembling from the sensation of enlightenment rushing through her and illuminating her mind. She finally understood why she had always felt different from others and why she had never been able to feel attracted to guys until meeting Jack, and with it, she lost her fear.

Just as Jack had told her what felt so long ago, now that she was aware of her world, she wanted to go beyond it. "Then you are ready. You have shed the weights of your awareness and the mental scaffolds that supported who you are and what you believe. The core of who you are is now exposed, and you are ready to discover your Self. Congratulations, Victoria. I knew you could do it." Victoria woke up with a jolt, out of breath as always. She looked around and remembered where she was.

She was sitting next to Jack with Harold Owen on the other side of him, the three riding in first class on a flight to DC. It was the middle of the night and all the passengers were asleep.

Staring at Jack and noting his smile, she wondered if he was really just meditating or actually maintained his grin in his sleep. Flushed with emotions, she smiled and leaned her head on his shoulder. "Thank you, Jack, thank you for everything," she murmured, closing her eyes and drifting back to sleep. ------------------------------------------------------ Jack sat on an oak chair, drumming his hands on the handle of his aluminum cane.

The room was brightly lit by stage lights for the benefit of the cameras situated in back, with the light reflecting off the white wall brightly, but shining the brightest on the golden tapestry behind the podium.

The room was filled with people, all seated in short rows going to the back wall, with all eyes either focused on Jack or the president, who was standing behind the podium. Clearing his throat, Barrack Obama began to speak. "I know that this ceremony is normally performed once a year and often includes more people, but with the amount of progress brought forth by the young man sitting beside me, I thought that an exception could of course be made.

Jack Owen is a young man who only appeared on the news several days before, never heard of until the hijacking of flight 154. But regardless of his age and anonymity, he has done the work of national hero, using nothing but the power of his words and his determination to help someone who he saw as a victim, but everyone else saw as a villain.

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It takes a lot of courage and strength to fight for your life, to physically apprehend a terrorist who plans on committing an act of mass destruction. But it takes a lot of wisdom and heart to see into the soul of that man and talk him down and change his entire perspective. As we have seen across the globe over these past few days, Jack Owen did more than just protect the lives of American citizens and historical landmarks in Boston. He showed the world that even the most intense anger can be quelled by the understanding of others, and that the path to peace is always an option.

He has brought the downfall of the world's rhetoric to a screeching halt and has replaced what could have been a whole new war and decades of bitter resentment and prejudice with the desire to end violence and bring the Islamic world, and the entire world itself, into the light. The fact that this adolescent, this teenager, is able to see the world with such clarity and speak with much wisdom, shows only that we all have the capability to put a stop to violence. If this young man can do it, then hopefully the leaders of the world and the people with the ability to cause or prevent chaos can do the same.

It is a great honor to introduce the recipient of the Medal of Freedom." As Jack stood up and began walking over, the announcer began to speak.

"For preventing the greatest terrorist attack since 9/11 and promoting peace between the nations and religions of the earth, Jack Owen is hereby awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom.

It is a token and a sign of gratitude for his bravery, his wisdom, and his caring." Jack stood by the podium, resting his hands on his cane while the president and hung the medal from his neck, with the gold star and silver eagle shining beautifully.

As the pictures were taken, Jack looked over to Victoria and his father, seated amongst the crowd, both crying tears of joy and pride while they and everyone else clapped. Victoria was garbed in a deep-violet dress with a single strap across her shoulder, decorated with lace in the shape of flowers. The dress had a slit going up each side, stopping halfway up her thigh. Her hair was tied up in a bun with diamond clips that her mom had leant her, and her eyes were filled with adoration and love.

"As per the mutual desire of both the President and award recipient, Jack Owen would now like to say a few words," the announcer stated. Holding out his arm to the podium, Obama stepped aside with a nod and Jack moved behind it, clearing his throat and looking into the sea of cameras, lights, and faces.

People throughout the country were watching the event, including Kelly, Tyler, and everyone from Jack's school, as well as everyone who had known him from his previous school. "People of America and the world, I would first like to thank you for taking time out of your day and watch this event. In truth, I did not accept this award for its symbolism or weight, but because I was told I would have a chance to spread my beliefs to everyone listening.

Through my years, I have come to learn the source of violence and the reason for its existence. People act aggressively towards each other because there is something that they are trying to protect, be it their possessions, resources, loved ones, or even their own lives.

But what few realize is just how little there really is in our lives that is worth an act of violence towards someone else. Humans naturally create divisions and barriers, separating each other into different classifications. We do this in an attempt to understand our world and ourselves, by using others as an extended reach to see how mankind reacts to different aspects of life.

it is the first form of empathy, the way in which we gauge the world around us. We label someone as lazy so that we can imagine what it is like to be in that person's shoes, we may be untrustworthy of people from another ethnic or social group because we see the cultural path they have taken as dangerous to our own ways of life and use them as test subjects. We then turn against each other over those divisions, once again trying to understand or destroy what we don't understand.

This is human nature, but that does not mean it is human law.

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We don't have to erect dividers between people and we don't have to feel aggressive towards them because of the differences we create. Everyone is an individual with his or her own beliefs and ideals, some of which may be shared by others, but when you look upon all of mankind, you see that there is no reason for violence to spring forth from any difference we might create.

We are all human beings, trying to find happiness and meaning in our lives. We all have the same feelings, desires, and needs. We are all one species, living together on this blue speck in the endlessly expanding universe. If you can realize this, if you can see beyond the petty squabbles that hold us back, you can discover a love in your heart directed towards everyone and everything.

You can truly be at peace and live in happiness, never falling prey to barbaric desires of violence.

Half of reality is what we make of it; our perceptions control our world. If a vase falls to the floor and shatters, no one can deny it, but it is only through our perception and choices that the vase actually becomes broken or ruined. We all hold the keys to our own pain and our own happiness, each and every one of you has the ability to live in either hell or heaven, it all depends on how well you know yourself and how you choose to perceive your world.

All feelings come from the Self and the values we place on the things around us, so if you can find your Self and your true core, then you can control what values you place on everything and you can make your world paradise.

You will be able to understand everything and be overcome with euphoria. On the plane to Portland, Gerard Lenaen shot me in the chest. When he asked me how I was still alive, I told him that all humans had the capability to survive my injury, and while the wound was very painful, I did not mind that it hurt because I placed no value on it. Just before that flight, my mother died in a car accident.

But instead of crying and feeling like I would never be happy again, I looked at the event with the same view that I use to look at the universe and value everything in it.

I saw my mother, not as dead, but as having returned to what she was before she was born. I knew that what made her who she was still existed and always would exist, be it the atoms in her cells continuing to exist beneath the soil or the energy from her mind and soul being released back into the universe. I saw my mother not as being gone, but as a new and changed form of the sum of all her parts.

We all have the ability to do this, we all have the ability to look past the negatives of pain and see the light in every event and in life itself. We all have the ability to live in happiness if that is how we choose to see the world and add meaning to everything in it. Depending on how everyone on this planet decides to change their view, we could eliminate violence and war once and for all.

After all, happiness walks hand in hand with peace. Thank you ladies and gentlemen, I hope my words have helped you gain some insight into who you are." He then bowed his head as everyone stood up with thunderous applause. ------------------------------------------------------ Jack and Victoria stood in the parking garage next to their hotel.

They had been planning to go out and do a little sight seeing before the evening ended, but it seemed that fate had different plans. They were being circled by five degenerates, ranging in age from late teens to late twenties, with their clothing suggesting that they weren't on the positive side of the law.

They had recognized Jack immediately, and it seemed that they had a problem with his message. Victoria was terrified, but Jack remained completely calm and retained his smile. "You know, rag-head lovers make me sick. My uncle died on 9/11, killed by your friends. Now here you are, a traitor to the country, getting a motherfucking medal," one of the thugs grunted, spinning an unreleased folding knife in his fingers.

"I'm very sorry for your loss, but I'm afraid you have mistaken my intentions. I do not support terrorism, or extremist Muslims who use violence to achieve their goals. I simply believe that you cannot persecute an entire group of people for the behavior of its fanatical minority," Jack said without losing his smile.

"So if one of us decides that your face would look nice when sliced to pieces and spread out on this pavement floor, you won't blame all of us?" Another asked. "While I would greatly prefer that you do not do that, if harming me will help you resolve any issues, then I welcome you do it.

However, I must ask that you do not cause any lethal damage, as I have no intention of dying before the 21st." "And what about your girlfriend? She certainly looks like a nice piece of ass. I doubt you'd keep that smile if one of us was inside of her," one laughed.

Victoria looked at Jack in horror, and saw the slightest twitch in his eye. "In order to keep her safe and happy, I will do what I must to protect the one I love. I say again, you may hurt me if that will help you resolve your issues, but she is not a part of this." "Just try and stop us!" one of the men laughed, reaching out to Victoria.

Before the man could touch her, he released a howl of agony and stepped back as his arm was suddenly ripped apart, cell by cell. Everyone watched in horror as the flesh was peeled away, the muscles shredded, and the bone reduced to powder, and all with blood spraying in all directions, save for Victoria and Jack's.

The man fell on the ground, screaming shrilly and clutching the bloody stump, unable to fathom what had just happened. Victoria stared at the man with her face deathly white, struggling to accept what she was looking at. She was clutching Jack's arm for dear life, but it no longer felt like him.

It felt more like she was holding onto a cold statue. "I normally refrain from any acts of violence, so I sincerely apologize. Don't worry, I'll return it to you," Jack said cheerfully without even turning to the man.

As if my magic, the splatters of gore flew through the air like flies and began to rejoin, reforming the man's arm with every scar and imperfection matched and even recreating the sleeves of his clothes.

"You son of a bitch!" one of the man's friends howled, lunging towards Jack and stabbing forward with a knife aimed for his face.

An inch from the space between his eyes, the knife was stopped by a glassy membrane, glowing faintly in the air without consisting of any mass or matter. "Unfortunately, I cannot let any of you leave, now that you have seen what I am capable of. Don't worry, I won't kill you." Without the slightest twitch or movement on Jack's part, the man was lifted into the air, shouting in terror and helplessness as the power of gravity was basically turned on its head.

Screaming for his friends to help him, the man suddenly exploded in a mass of blood and gore, spraying the surrounding surfaces with liquefied tissue. Jack then turned to the man whose arm he had destroyed and recreated, and without any warning, the terrified punk was atomized like his friend. "Jack, what are you doing?!" Victoria screamed in terror, unable to believe what she was seeing.

This had to be a dream! This couldn't be real! "Don't worry, they don't feel any pain." While two of the punks ran for their lives, the third drew his pistol and began firing at Jack and Victoria, emptying his clip but achieving nothing. Instead of killing the two teenagers, all nine bullets stopped in midair and were then dematerialized and turned into pure energy. Before he could even think to reload, the man erupted into a bloody geyser, spraying a fountain of cells up and splashing the ceiling.

Turning his head, Jack looked over to the fleeing attackers, and with only his mind, he gave them the same fate, making them both explode into a biological mist. "Oh my god, you killed them," Victoria gasped, covering her mouth and struggling to breathe.

"Don't worry, I didn't," Jack said, a split second before all of the bodies instantly reformed from the splashes of gore. Atom by atom, each and every cell and fiber was recreated and joined together, becoming the bodies of the five street thugs.

All five were passed out on the floor, alive but unconscious. "They won't remember what transpired here, it's fine." "How… how did you do that?" Victoria panted, feeling like she was about to faint. "It's simple, I deconstructed their bodies at the atomic level and reconstructed them, using it as an opportunity to rewire their minds and erase their short-term memories. Except for their knowledge of what just happened, they are exactly as they once were, right down to the exact details.

Like I said, I didn't kill them, even if that is how you interpreted it. All I did was dismantle them and recreate them with all the same parts and energy." "Who… who or what are you?!" Victoria asked fearfully, stepping back and falling to the floor.

Jack stood over her, his shadow cast upon her trembling body. Regardless of her fear, he did not lose his calm, peaceful smile. "Unfortunately, I cannot answer that question now. However, I will answer all of your questions on the 21st. Please, do not be afraid of me. I love you and I mean you no harm." "How can I trust you?! How can I believe anything you've told me after showing me all this?!" "Kelly and Tyler trust me, and they both know that I am not normal. I have also arranged to give them their answers on the 21st, and as you can imagine, they are very curious.

To be blunt, those dreams that you've been having are completely real. Everything you've said in your dreams, I've heard, and everything you think your subconscious has been saying in the form of me has really been me.

I've been communicating with Kelly and Tyler in the same way, helping all three of you." He took a step forward, and full of fear, Victoria scrambled back. "Stay away from me!" she screamed. Ignoring her terror, Jack crouched down and stretched out his hand to her.

Victoria tried to shield herself, but with indescribable gentleness and care, he brushed his fingertips against the side of her face and cupped her cheek. At his touch, Victoria immediately became calm, yet alert, like a fire suddenly being reduced to a bed of glowing embers. "Victoria, you can believe me because I love you and you love me.

I don't want to hurt you; I want you to be safe and happy. You have nothing to fear from me, I promise you that." "Just tell me one thing." "What?" "Tell me: are you human?" Instead of answering, Jack just smiled and gave a small laugh.

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