I hate this.

It had been a little over three weeks and the calm mask I wore was slipping. I honestly felt like exploding without caring about where or who was around when I did it. Luckily, Logic was the voice I normally listened to. So I did the smart thing and left the castle to go for a walk. I released a bit of anger here and there, mostly by punching a sandbag in our training room, but even with these little reprieves, I found that I was at the limit of my patience.

I threw another rock at the lake I visited every day. Despite my 3 weeks of practice, I still couldn't make the rocks skip, not even once. They just sank immediately.

How could I be so terrible at something supposed to be so easy? A tinge of annoyance emerged and a frown appeared on my face. That annoyance turned to hatred and frustration. I grabbed a massive rock, about the size of my head, and with two hands hefted it into the air. I managed to lift it over my head, and wobbled towards the lake. As I took a step, I lost my balance and was forced to let the rock go. It landed maybe 3 inches away. In the wrong direction. I'd wanted it to go into the lake, but I'd managed to throw it further away.

The thud it made did nothing to relieve my stress. The only thing it did give me was back pain. Still, at least the pain made me realize how stupid my anger was.

Okay stone, you win. You're too heavy to throw and it seems like I can't make you or your brethren skip either.

I took a seat on the smooth grey rock.

I can't believe I'm getting so frustrated over lifting a rock. Well, this definitely has absolutely nothing to do with how weak and powerless I feel. Nope, I'm fine. Perfect, no problems here.

Actually, that's kind of funny, I can easily stop any of the bullies from school now. Magneto's in a completely different category of dangerous. If there was a level of danger called 'run if you want to live' I'm sure he'd be a few levels above that one.

Everything - the lack of freedom, the harsh training, the fear for my mother's safety - it all ground at my morale and I could no longer ignore or push these feelings away. I'd lashed out over not being able to lift a rock, for goodness' sake! My patience and ability to look calm at all times was officially gone.

It didn't even help that I'd received a letter that had to be from my mother. If anything, it just made me more anxious about what happened after the letter was written. If the letter writing was a common thing done at regular intervals, I could routinely confirm her safety. But there was no guarantee that I'd be allowed to do this.

The man could simply refuse to let me contact her and I'd be unable to do anything. The fact that he could cut my supply of letters off was a big reason why I'd kept myself from lashing out. The man did call the whole thing a privilege. He could just stop allowing me to receive letters should I disobey him. And if he did that, I had no way of knowing if my mother was dead, or alive. He was perfectly aware of the various forms of leverage he had on me. I had to remain calm, I had to do as he said. I had to.

The night before, when I got the letter, I was so tired that I didn't do anything but verify its authenticity. My eyes could easily pick up the shapes of letters and a few select words that I was purposefully looking for, but I was too tired to actually read it. I learned this when I realized I'd been staring at one paragraph for half an hour.

Funny how I got here by trying to get more personal freedom. I wanted a good job, a decent job, and figured the one Mom had recommended to me would pay nicely. Then I happened to meet a madman who, rather than leave me alone, threatened me and my Mom's lives!

I have to stop thinking like this. I sound so immature.

I threw another rock and sighed again as it unfortunately refused to skip.

Suddenly, I felt a shift nearby- something metal was approaching. Once it got close enough, I quickly identified what it was from the shape- a cylinder.

"Magneto," I said without looking back. I picked up another rock.

"Sensing my presence from the shape of my helmet? You're improving." The metal was above me, meaning he must be flying.

Maybe I'll get good enough to stop you one day. Good enough to take back control of my life.

I didn't smile at his praise. That didn't change the fact that I was very surprised by how much I was improving though. Even so, any enjoyment I got out of the progress I made was quickly blotted out by the price of my new skill.

I nodded to show that I heard him. Not responding when he told me something wouldn't be a wise move.

A few days earlier, I had been daydreaming during a training exercise and a magnetic force field crackled to life around me.

The surprise had startled me out of my daydream. I was learning to fly without using a disk because it was, in his words, 'a crutch', so I actually had nothing to physically stop my descent. Which meant I ended up falling around 20 feet before I finally managed to connect myself to the Earth's magnetic field and fly once more.

His response? He folded his arms, floated above me and said, "You really should pay more attention."

Really? You let me think I was going to die, when you could've easily pulled me up, all because I was daydreaming for a moment?

This though, like many others, went unsaid of course. Though I knew from his smirk that he could tell that I was angry.

The man had some very odd triggers. He couldn't stand when I wasn't paying attention and especially hated when I said 'yep' or 'yeah' to him. I got to know the true meaning of the term 'death glare' the first time I did that. I'd been careful to replace 'yep' with a 'yes' ever since.

I shook myself out of my thoughts as I sensed the metal moving down and landing nearby."What brings you out here?" Magneto asked.

"I was thinking." My neutral tone didn't waver.

"No doubt about a ridiculous escape plan."

My temper flared. "Here's one thing I don't get, Magneto: you're acting as if you're doing me a favor by keeping me here."

You know the usual rebellious teenager angst? I never got that because my mom wasn't very controlling of my movements and actions. She didn't oblige me to do anything besides going to church and praying before bed which I never did unless she was around. But now that I had no freedom, I very much wanted to rebel.

"And you're acting as if I'm doing you a disservice," Magneto countered.

I did try to calm down. I counted backwards from ten before I spoke, but still ended up saying, "I was perfectly fine where I was."

"Because fearing that your mother finds out what you really are is the definition of perfectly fine. How unconditional her 'love' is." I could hear the sarcasm dripping from every word.

What do you know about my mom's love for me?

"Ah yes, you're doing that thing where you say nothing but look like you want to gouge my eyes out," he commented. That was exactly what I was doing. Unfortunately, the technique that worked on many would-be bullies didn't work here. After all, I give death glares, he gives glares that make people want to die.

I breathed in and out and threw another rock that also didn't skip. The relaxation techniques that were taught to my GED students who believed they were bad test takers were a big reason why I had been able to deal with the situation so well. However, I don't think they were meant to deal with this much stress.

I chose not to say the string of insults that came to mind. "You're obviously goading me."

"And you hate letting people influence your emotions. Not surprising."

I didn't bother trying to add more to the conversation. Sometimes the way to win a conversation is not to get the last word but the exact opposite. It was quiet for a few seconds, the only sound being birds singing and the rustling of leaves in the wind.

"When did you stop believing in your mother's fanatical nonsense?" Magneto asked.

What a way to start a conversation, I thought dryly, though I couldn't stop the annoyance burning in my belly.

Once again he was trying to get a rise out of me in that strange, roundabout way of his.

"I was 8," I said flatly.

"And?" he pressed.

"And I'd gotten my first bike and rode it to the library every day. One day, I found a book on evolution."

I stared out at the lake, slipping into the memory. The sense of freedom I had when I got my bike, how the wind felt in my hair and how on particularly windy days I sometimes came home with sticks in my hair.

It was a rather appealing memory and my hatred of Magneto faded in the background.

"One book turned into two and three. I had questions about what I was taught, but I just lacked something that made more sense."

I understood that the Bible was supposed to be taken as metaphor according to most, but how did we know what parts to take as metaphor and what parts to take literally?

However, the complete lack of clear cut references to mutants really did it for me. I had heard there were many references to mutants in the book, but I read it cover to cover and found nothing where they were directly referenced. Sure, some verses could be interpreted to say they were talking about them, but without a clear cut answer how could we know? The people in the Salem Witch trials did honestly think they were hunting witches after all. They had based their trials on their interpretations as well and innocent people died. So how could we know anything? How did we know our interpretations were right?

Let me explain, a lack of mutants in the book wasn't the issue, it was that in many things we had to interpret what the book meant ourselves. So different people came up with different things. So who was right? How could we be sure? How did we know anything? My questions about mutants exposed a whole new set of questions I had to contend with.

What stops the congregation's beliefs on mutants being evil monsters from being another Salem situation? I found that I couldn't live my life according to anyone's interpretation of the book (even my own) given how much we couldn't be sure about. And the issues of not knowing things for certain and interpretations came up again and again, even with other faiths.

The new scientific books I read, however, completely made sense to me given what scientists knew. They lacked these issues of interpretation. Sure, it didn't help at all with moral aspects of life, but it did clearly explain how things work. I'm not claiming that my beliefs have to be right, only that this was how I made sense of and currently make sense of the world.

"And you told her about what you read," Magneto said.

I whipped my head around and snapped out of my fun memories. "How could you know that?"

"You have a bookcase in your car littered with books on evolution because you're old enough to know you shouldn't show them to her. But I doubt you had that knowledge when you were 8."

I frowned at the fact that he even knew about the contents of my car. Nothing was sacred to this man. "I didn't."

"And the result?"

"She told the pastor and-" I paused.

I didn't want to tell the rest, but I didn't have to. He was smart enough to know where my story went.

Besides, not telling him would be the more rational choice anyway. I shouldn't give him an inch, even if he probably already knew everything. It would be wise not to give him any information that could be used against me later.

I really wanted that to be the end of the conversation, but he just had to tack on a, "And you were punished."

I held my mouth closed and didn't dare say anything else, but my silence spoke for me. I narrowed my eyes and thought back to that time.

I had been attacked by the other kids at my church, a 'chance to prove their faith'. More like a chance to ensnare more kids too young to reason for themselves in their fanaticism.

It was horrifying to see how quickly our friendship could be ended just because I disagreed with them on one thing. How they craved praise from an unpleasable authority so much that they'd go to such extreme lengths to get it. How they could never see beyond what they were taught because they were taught from birth to reject everything new.

I fought back. I actually managed to break a few noses and sprain a knee while I was at it. I was always a rather fast runner and strategically forced my friends-turned-enemies to fight me individually by outrunning them and forcing them to split up to cover more ground.

That could of course only work for so long. Eventually they chased me into an alley where they could converge. The only way out was to scale a large fence which, to 8 year old me, might as well have been a skyscraper.

I summoned all the courage I had and started to climb. I made it halfway up the fence before the other children started pulling me down. I tried kicking at them, but eventually they tore me off the fence. I fell onto the solid concrete and woke up covered with painful purple contusions that surely didn't come from my fall. Some parts of my body, like my ribs and legs felt like they were on fire.

However, what really got me was the small teeth marks on my arm that could've only belonged to Molly. She wasn't even old enough to talk in full sentences yet! How could she hate me too?

What happened after I got home didn't help.

I tried to stop my chin from wobbling as tears blurred my vision. "Mommy, you just got done bandaging my knees, if I kneel to pray, I'll open up my wounds again." I said, clutching her sleeve tightly.

My mom trembled with fear from what, to her, seemed to be me turning away from Christ as she looked at me with wide, wild eyes. She tore herself away from my grasp and ran to her room. In fact, I just meant that it made no sense to kneel as I prayed this time, but I had no problem with praying with her. I wanted answers and If God spoke to me I could maybe understand why my friends attacked me.

If he didn't say anything then he either wasn't as good as everyone said he was, because he talked to other people and not me, or he didn't exist. I prayed for a moment, but it quickly felt ridiculous. I was talking to a wall. I'd be better off solving whatever problems I had myself.

Mom ended up leaving that church, but the damage was done. My new bike, for instance, was vandalized by my former friends on the church leader's orders. They broke into our garage to do it. We even found the crowbar they must've used, thrown into the bushes in our front garden. It was way too large for any of the children to have used it on their own.

But the writing on the bike was clearly written by Clarice. She'd learned a gothic calligraphy font from my mother not even a week before. And she used that font to write 'TRASH' and 'HELL SPAWN' on my bike.

My mom's reaction was to lock herself into her room. I went days without even seeing or hearing her. I tried to be brave in her absence, and tried to feed myself to the best of my abilities as our supplies shrank and shrank. I didn't dare go out for groceries. I was sure if I set foot outside of the house, I'd get jumped again.

The next week, someone threw a brick with a note saying 'unbeliever' through our living room window. I was scared and confused. I wondered if people would come and attack me in my sleep, and I didn't know what to do about the broken window. I was afraid of going to sleep for days after. I spent hours wandering our small house with a baseball bat, jumping at every noise even if each time it was only the central heating.

Not long after the brick, and on the third sleepless night, I crept up to my mom's room. I'd avoided her because I wasn't sure if she'd still like me. My friends surely didn't anymore. But at that point I figured that anything would be preferable to being alone.

I knocked cautiously. "Mommy?" I called.

"Satan, leave my child," was the reply. She sounded hoarse and frightened, but surely Mother was just confused! I wasn't Satan nor did I remember making a deal with him either.

"I'm Chris."

"Oh, my Chrysanthemum!" she cried. Laugh at the childhood nickname if you want. My mom had been under the impression that she'd have a girl and planned to name me Chrysanthemum. When she found out I was a boy she called me Chrysanthemum for a while because she couldn't think of a good name, and ended up shortening it in the end.

The fact that she used my full name meant she was in pain. It was like this the time I confronted her about the finger-shaped scars on her neck, too.

"My son would not say such hateful things," she said. It sounded absolutely furious, like I had insulted her by claiming I was myself.

"I never said I hated anything." Yes, I've always been rather witty. My mom rarely won arguments with me unless she pulled the 'because I said so' card.

"My baby believes in God!"

I bit my lip nervously and told myself to be strong. I knew Mother wouldn't like what I had to say, and that it would probably just make the situation even worse. But it needed to be said. "No he doesn't. I'm right here telling you that!"

"Fight it. All you need to do is repent and God will take-"

I shook my head, even if she couldn't see it. "But the Bible, it just doesn't make sense, not to me anyway. If I told you something that didn't make sense you wouldn't believe me, what's so special about the Bible? Why should I believe it?"

The door opened slowly, creaking all the way.

I stumbled backwards.

That was the wrong answer.

I was on house arrest for three months while my mother worried about the state of my soul. I gave up on crying about my mother's inability to understand after the third week.

My books (all of them, just to be sure that I wasn't hiding anything) were burnt and I was even taken out of school for three months because my mom was too worried about leaving me alone.

I even had to go work with her. And everyone there supported her decision and tried to 'get through to me'.

Mom cried and prayed for me for hours on end. Her friends were a bit more… direct.

"Chris, come here, let's talk…"

"Do you want to go to hell forever?"

"Your mummy wants you to be good. And good little children…"

"Don't you love your mother?! Don't you see what harm you're causing her?!"

"What made him so angry at God anyway? That ungrateful…"

I never expected my mother to be so dead set on convincing me. I thought it'd be like our usual arguments on food, where for instance she said she loved raisins and I said they were evil imitations of grapes that exist only to bring misery to children forced to eat them, and then we'd eventually agree to disagree. However, that was most certainly not the case. Eventually, the battle ended after I said I'd try, and I forced myself to participate in whatever ceremonies she had me do to drive the devil out of me.

All the while I wondered why I couldn't be like the children at our new church. They seemed to be happy and didn't have people yelling at them nearly as much as I did. Why couldn't I just believe? Even if the Bible wasn't true, wouldn't it be nice to have the comfort the people around me had?

I was uncertain about my problems and how to deal with them. They were confident it would all be fine because 'God was in control'. But that wasn't me. I don't have blind faith in anything or anyone, it's not in my nature. If I am to have faith in something I want to know if it's worth it, if my trust really isn't misplaced. So while they were sure they would go to heaven I just worried about how to use my limited and brief life.

I wanted to make the most of my time on Earth, and decided I wouldn't wait for retirement or a midlife crisis to truly live. Thankfully, my mother started easing up little by little as the days went by. I considered the extent of my Mom's vigilance, and established the boundaries of what I could and couldn't do without setting her off. Within these boundaries I chased after my dreams as often as I could. If I wanted to go to the library, I just said I had to go to a friends house for a paper. If I wanted to meet one of my friends from school I said I wanted to help her out by getting the groceries.

From time to time I messed up, of course, but for the most part I could fool everyone around me and make them believe I was one of them. Of course this only applied to authority figures, as well as the children connected to said authority figures. I allowed myself to be myself to a certain extent with neutral parties, though I was still sure not to give away anything that could be used against me.

All of this was perfect training for mom's second and terrible mental breakdown that came soon after I found the right balance between truth and fiction.

"And your mother's reaction to this?"

I snapped myself out of my memory.

Right, I'm with Magneto trying to get him off my back.

I gathered my thoughts, trying to remember what part exactly he was referring to. "She- supported my, well my former friend's actions, they attacked me, and said it was my punishment for 'losing my way'." I frowned.

"Yes, and that would explain why there was a rather large gap in your schooling by, what, two months?" he said. The words themselves didn't show how much anger he radiated.

Which was odd because I wasn't angry at the kids that beat me up anymore. I had had enough time to reflect on what happened, and had eventually grown to pity the kids. Being in that cult hadn't been fun for me to say the least, but that didn't mean it had been any better for the others. After we left, there had been a scandal about the marrying of young girls to older men, and the boys were often kicked out on their 18th birthday to make 'room'. Yes, it was one of those cults.

It's creeps like the people in that cult that make me say I'm glad I wasn't a girl. My early life would have been much worse, I'm certain of it. I don't even know of all the abuses that went on, as no one would talk about it. Magneto seemed to want to murder something. Anger on my behalf? Magneto having actual empathy for someone's suffering? Forget being attacked by fanatics, this is what's really scary.

"Three," I corrected. Of the worst months in my life.

I didn't even care enough to formulate a witty comment about him being a stalker in my head.

A longish moment of silence passed before I'd cooled off enough to ask what I really wanted to know. "How do you justify this?"

That question confused him, and he said, "Justify what?"

Unbelievable, he can't even see that he's wrong here. Rebellion rolled his eyes.

Well, he is a fanatic. They have a tendency to think they're right no matter what. Logic said.

"Well, you said you work for the freedom of mutants and yet I'm here unwillingly." I explained.

He did not like the sound of that answer, and shot back with a cold, "I recall that you were in no way tied up or restrained when you came here."

Yes, he really is this much of a smartass. Sometimes, I don't believe it myself.

"After you 'convinced' me to come with you by threatening my mother." My tone now matched his. A piercing glare replaced my mask of indifference. This was my life, and I had every right to be angry.

He seemed to thoroughly enjoy the fact that I was finally at my wits end. He hummed. "I was wondering where the boy who told me to reevaluate my strategy went."

I started to storm off. "On a vacation- he wasn't needed any more." Predictably, a magnetic field quickly encased me before I could walk far. Yes, I can see them, but he could also make them invisible. I hadn't a clue how such a thing was possible with his powerset. His fields tended to be a pale red hue.

I rationally knew it was useless, but I struggled against the magnetic field. Which somehow translated into a blue magnetic field of my own appearing around me and battling Magneto's field. This had never happened before. The larger field moved an inch but stayed in place as Buckethead floated me off the ground and above the lake.

"Your problem is and always has been your lack of power. For example, you can't break the magnetic field I have around you. Though congratulations on figuring out how to create a magnetic repulsive field instinctively." The older man was amused at the fact that I continued to struggle.

"Feel free to keep trying to get out of my hold. You're only proving my point."

I immediately stopped struggling. Though now I can recognize the reverse psychology used here.

Great job running things, Rebellion. We got our ass handed to us on a silver platter. Cynicism had to point out.

He started it. Rebellion said, sulking.

Cynicism smacked his forehead. I never thought I'd say this- but how about we put Logic in charge?

They continued to have it out while Magneto felt the need to lecture me.

"In this world, the weak are ruled by the strong. Would you have suffered as you did had you had the power to deal with the bullies you encountered?" He asked.

"No." This I had to reluctantly admit.

"I am giving you the chance to gain this power while freeing your brethren. Additionally, your life here is infinitely better than the one you had before. I'd hardly consider your previous situation healthy. You just told me your mother isolated you for months after she learned of a difference in faith. She lacked good judgment in the types of groups she associated with and often couldn't properly provide for you. This is in addition to continually being part of groups that have been reported to abuse children. Once is a coincidence, twice a mistake, but thrice is a pattern. This could easily be seen as negligence."

I stared at him. He raised an eyebrow in response.

"Don't be surprised, Chris. Of course I know about the others. Not very hard to determine, memberships lists and the like. Given what you have been through, it makes sense that you are skeptical of anyone who claims to aid you. But this is no fraud, you are far better off here. With others who have mutations like you and understand what it's really like for people like us. You won't go without food here. And you'll learn to control your abilities and use them to help yourself and others. That is how I justify my actions."

A pause. He crossed his arms, frowning. "Of course, the word 'justify' implies that I am doing something wrong, which certainly isn't the case. The proper way to refer to this would be, 'how am I certain that my actions are just?' You're far better off here than you were before. This is a fact."

Something inside me snapped. How could someone be so arrogant? How dare he say such things and really mean it? How dare he not feel even a tinge of regret for taking me away? How dare he think it was okay to kidnap me just because hey, now I had proper access to food? How dare he, how dare he!

"How dare you think you get to make these types of decisions for me?!" I exploded. There really is no other way of explaining it. I exploded like a supernova- in a big brilliant and powerful flash. My once fragile field was now stronger. It pulsated wildly like an alive heart, and pushed, doing its best to break the other's control. I vaguely realised that Magneto's field was quivering. I didn't know it at the time, but it was on the verge of shattering.

"You self righteous, arrogant-! You gave me an impossible choice: my freedom or her life. And you dare say I came here out of my free will? You would've killed her!" As I said this, I continued to push my magnetic field outward. With my newly found rage, doing so was so much easier.

"And you self righteously say this is a chance, an opportunity? No, it can't possibly be. I'm miles from my home and everything I've ever cared about!"

My magnetic field grew bigger and bigger, pushing back against Magneto's power. Until suddenly, it wasn't anymore. Something had stopped its expansion. I felt something in the air change and then everything stopped. Magneto had reestablished control.

I was far past caring about that though.

"I can't believe you, You're a fucking hypocrite Magneto, you know that? You know how important freedom is, and yet you think it's okay to stomp on others when it benefits you! And you still say you're doing the right thing? You do all this work so humans don't kill or enslave mutants, but hey, kidnapping a kid is fine if their life sucked back at home!"

"You're just like all the others, Magneto! You're fine with choice and freedom so long as that freedom means the freedom to do what benefits you! And the fact that you don't see the fact in this is fucking annoying! How can you be so smart but miss something so obvious?"

The field shattered and mine dissipated out of sheer exhaustion. With nothing to hold me up, gravity took root and dragged me down, and I fell into the pond.

Great, now I was cold, damp and underwater. I had to get back up, I had to breathe. I couldn't swim, but I somehow managed to claw my way up the surface. Never had I appreciated breathing so much.

"What a situation you've gotten yourself into." Rather than angry, the man seemed amused, clearly thinking that this outburst was just more proof that I was an immature child who couldn't be trusted to make good decisions. And the worst part? If I was honest, I knew he was at least partly right.

I'd forgotten the first rule of being weaker than your enemy: Never do anything rash. One mistake can end it all.

I dared to demand to be treated like a person in my anger and it got me nothing. No wait, that's wrong. It got me the chance to experience the joy of wildly attacking water in hopes of not going under. But I did go under. Again and again. Each time, I returned to the surface gasping for air. He could get me out, but he didn't.

"Still think I'm self righteous?" He didn't lift a finger. No doubt trying to force me to recant everything I'd said before, in exchange for his assistance.

Exceedingly. I made sure to aim a particularly strong glare at the man before I was submerged completely. I came back up and once more gasped. This happened several times for what felt like hours but was likely only minutes.

"Young people." He rolled his eyes and began to rise into the air. A new flame of anger burned my soul as I sank into the pond once more. How dare he look so above it all, how dare he look so composed, while I was anything but. This was the exact opposite of what I wanted.

If I refuse he'll pull me out.

Something equally as humiliating as taking his hand, but at least I wasn't being forced out.

A very rash idea slammed into my mind. I was on a lake and I couldn't swim. I could... It would certainly give me the freedom that didn't seem to be coming anytime soon instantly.

I kicked the idea to the curb. There was no way Magneto would let me, and my survival instincts wouldn't allow me to go through with it anyway.

Eventually Magneto raised me out of the water. I tried not to look too relieved.

Once we were on shore I mournfully said, "I look like a drowned rat..." And I wasn't too far off either. I did look like a giant drowned rat with brown hair and eyes.

"You almost drown and that's what you say?" he said.

"Coping mechanism, don't focus on the negative."

"Along with excessive chatter."

I tilted my head to the side and squeezed a decent chunk of hair before going to another brown chunk.

"At times." I had to admit that was the case.

I felt a bit better after saying what I felt, but that certainly didn't help the situation. Magneto still held all the cards and I was at his mercy. I'd shown my weak point to my enemy and he'd be a fool not to exploit them.

Plus, there was the problem of what punishment would come out of this.

I decided not to care about what the consequences of this would be. Frankly, there weren't too many things that he could do to harm me that hadn't been done before.