Welcome to my new story, Enough. In this, I'm essentially going through the episodes but all from Andy's POV, in an attempt to capture how exactly everything's affecting him, and how he slowly changes.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Gifted or the characters featured in this story.

ENOUGH

BY FOREST

Prologue: The Path That Led To This

It started when Andy was eleven. Just bordering on twelve, but still eleven.

It was the first day of middle school. He'd walked into school with cautious optimism, hoping that this was a fresh start. Lauren had left his side already, smiling and laughing as she caught up with her friends. That sudden feeling of loneliness and trepidation made him mad. He was in sixth grade! He didn't need his older sister hovering over him like some guardian angel! He could take care of himself!

A moment later, when a locker door slammed painfully into his back, with a kid standing over him, malice gleaming in his eyes, he realized how wrong he was.

The rest of the year was agony. His fresh start was gone, crushed to the ground under the heel of a sneering kid's boot (they were all wearing tennis shoes, actually, but that's beside the point). His tormentors seemed to be everywhere. In class, when the teacher wasn't looking, they chucked spitballs at the back of his head, stabbed him with their pencils, snatched his papers off his desk. When the teacher turned around, they sat back, watching her innocently, looking interested in the lesson when all they really wanted to do was continue their cruelty.

The hallway was no better; in fact, it was far worse. With no teachers to stop them, they would grab him by the shoulders and shove him against the wall. They would punch him in the face, the chest. The crueler ones even aimed their kicks for the sensitive areas.

No one came to his aid. No one wanted to be his friend, or even acquaintance. No one wanted to even be associated with him, because that painted a target on their back. The hallway would clear as he walked through, kids hurrying to avoid him, avoid his eyes.

An anger grew. Why him? He knew the answer. He was the perfect target: Slim, rather weak, with no friends or anyone to back him up. The nobody.

Every day, he'd drag himself home, broken and nursing new bruises, new pains. He saw Lauren around occasionally; once or twice, she even stopped them. It was nice and relieving when she did, but the next day, they always came back with a vengeance. The beating he received then was worse than ever.

Andy began to purposely avoid the hallways that he knew his sister would be in. He didn't need her help; all it led to was more pain. He knew she told their parents. They sat down and talked to him, offering their love and support. He smiled through the pain and told them that they didn't need to worry. He could take care of this. He'd be fine.

They were worried, but they accepted it. So the next day, Andy went back to school. The routine continued. He knew that fighting led to nowhere but trouble for him.

He pulled Lauren aside soon after, asked her to stay quiet. He promised he was planning something. He would get them back. He wouldn't stay oppressed forever. She offered her help, determined to stop them. He said no. He didn't need his sister's help; that would just make him look pathetic. More than that, he could see the fear in her eyes. She wanted to help her brother. But doing so would make her a target. They would go after her and her friends. So he turned her down and kept her out of it. Despite her sincerity, he could see the guilty relief when he said that.

Sitting at the dinner table, whenever the siblings' eyes met, he could see the concern evident in her gaze, and guilt churned in his stomach. But that guilt wasn't bravery, and the courage he needed to face his tormentors just wasn't there.

It was even worse in seventh grade. There was no one there to hold them back anymore. Lauren was a high schooler now, and he was still stuck with the middle schoolers. Sometimes he would be late for class, because they blocked his way, and occasionally, he even missed his classes. His grades slipped, just a little, but it wasn't enough for his parents to intervene. That year was the hardest.

Too often, it felt less like a place of learning and more like a battlefield. Andy was locked in a war that he had no hope of winning, where his enemies held all the cards and then some. The hallways were a minefield. He stepped around the danger that was the other kids, specifically the bullies, always trying to find those safe spots with the teachers so that he could lay back and rest.

His legs got blown off a lot.

But like a soldier, Andy gritted his teeth and pushed through the pain. He had learned a lesson in sixth grade. This was his burden to bear, and no one was stepping up to help anyways. So he stopped reaching out, and instead retreated inside himself. It didn't help much, but at least it did something. He held onto what he could, stabilizing himself with the good part of reality, focusing on his family.

Sometimes, though, the stories on his back, written in blue and black ink, felt stronger and more real than reality.

After an easier year of eighth grade (he was in the top grade, and the bullies were mostly all older than him), he went into high school with dread, a stark contrast to how he started his middle school years. He expected the worst, and he received worse. The teachers in middle school at least tried to stop them, albeit half-heartedly. These teachers didn't even seem to care.

Once again, he avoided Lauren, did his best to keep her impartial. She was popular enough, and Andy wasn't going to be the one who came in and screwed it up for her. What she didn't know didn't hurt her.

What she didn't know did hurt him.

Their taunts were etched into his skin, written in bruises inflicted by their merciless fists. Andy struggled, desperate to find some way to avoid them, all his energy dedicated to it. His grades dropped drastically. That incident at the park didn't help either. His parents sat him down and asked about it. He lied, but was pretty sure he did a terrible job with it. This endless barrage was wearing him down, knocking his hastily constructed walls to the ground.

At least he had finally made a friend, though it was a cautious one, and they rarely interacted at school. Ian was cool, but afraid, just like him, and did his best to keep out of the spotlight.

That blazing anger inside him grew each time they passed silently beside each other in the halls, but he suppressed it. It wasn't his fault. It was because of them. And all he wanted was for them to leave him alone.

So why did he go to the dance? Why did he want to go? They would be there, he knew they would. So why?

Honestly, Andy wasn't sure. Part of it, he thought, was the crushing loneliness. He hid it away, but it still was there. It was also maybe because his parents kept giving him these concerned, gentle looks. Maybe it should have been comforting that they cared, but all it did was infuriate him. He wasn't a fragile baby!

Part of it was that in one way or another, he had always felt cooped up and restrained. This was his way of shouting to the world, "I am not a prisoner! I am my own person, and I am free to do what I want!"

He wasn't, but he convinced himself that he was.

So he lied about being tired and going to bed, and slipped into the car to wait for Lauren.

He heard the door open, and swallowed nervously. His fingers raked through his hair, a mostly useless attempt to quell his nervousness. It gave the appearance that he wasn't afraid, though. He kept his eyes focused out the window, to stop her from seeing the fear in his eyes. If she saw it, she'd never say yes.

"Yo."

Lauren started.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

Feeling in control, Andy looked at her. "I snuck out," he answered. "I thought I'd go with you."

"Didn't you tell Mom you were going to bed?"

"Yeah... that's why they call it sneaking. Can we go?" Andy said the last part fast, his tension speeding up his words.

"You can't," Lauren protested. "What if she finds out?"

"If I get caught, I'll tell her I was going down to Ian's," replied Andy. "You won't get in trouble." Seeing her reluctance still, he added, "When was the last time I got to go out on a weekend?"

She hesitated, and he pressed, "Its like I'm a... one-one of those baby cows they keep in the crates."

"Veal?" Lauren offered, sounding a bit exasperated.

"Yeah. I'm being raised like a veal."

She paused. "You really want to go to a dance? After everything that's been going on at school?"

"You mean my fan club?" Andy sighed. "Yeah, whatever. I'm used to them."

Lauren stared at him for a moment longer, then groaned. "Buckle up," she ordered.

Andy smiled, forcing one past his dread at potentially seeing them.

They were saying things. Laughing at him. At his misery. The hot water was pouring down his back, and Andy was writhing, trying to break free of his captors. He was screaming for help, and they sneered at him. The water was burning his skin, and then he could feel it.

Andy had felt it before, lurking beneath his skin. That anger, that boiling, sun-hot, pulsing fury that nestled beside his heart. Its claws sank deeper and deeper with each sneer as they shoved him into the lockers, each insult as they took and destroyed his stuff, each jeering remark as they shouldered him aside in the hallways. It was rising in him, awakened by the fear and panic, and he felt a new sensation. His anger exploded.

The ground was rumbling. The tiles cracking. They let go of his arms, but he didn't register it. The building shook. They backed away, but he was no longer paying attention. All he could feel was the despair, the helplessness, the anger.

He yelled, a raw primal sound. The faucets bent, the lights sparked and broke. The walls, the ceiling, everything shuddered from the force of his emotions, running wild with this new sensation coursing through him. He couldn't stop. It was swamping him. It had been born from pain, from despair, from being dragged down again and again to that deepest pit from which it feels like there's no return, no recovery. Now it felt like he was drowning. That water was coursing down on him, mocking him, reminding him of every punch, every taunt, every humiliation...

He'd had enough.

Don't bully, kids.