mage, earning them a lower place in society, hence the name “Lesser”.
When the last of them left, the conversations of the people behind Damian were merely background noise, and all he could hear were those two harsh words, roaring themselves over and over inside his head.
Lesser trash.
Chapter 1.3
Damian sat on his bed inside his dormitory, anxiously waiting for what was to come. It had been an hour since the incident at the collapsed building. The Roamers had been disbanded by security, dispersing and returning to their normal schedules.
Meanwhile, Damian was summoned by one of Bierner’s cronies. Holding back a smile, the cronie couldn’t wait to see what would happen to Damian.
A few seconds later, Damian heard the door opening and footsteps entering into the room. Before he could even turn around, a rod crisply slapped the back of my neck, leaving a long, burning, red mark.
“Well, well, well,” sneered Sister Bierner, “It seems one Awakening was able to bring you and your little dead-beats down. Ha!” She laughed cruelly, “And how long do you think you could last out there in the wastelands even if you did manage to escape, Asher?”
Damian’s eyes widened, “How did you know?”
“Oh it wasn’t hard,” She responded, “I just had to simply…pry it out of them. It’s simple, isn’t?”
“Why?” He asked as he stared at her in disbelief, knowing with that tone, it was definitely more than mere prying, “Why are you doing this? What have they even done to you?”
She whirled on him and before he knew it, Damian was flat on his bed, his forehead now bruised with a new, red mark in the shape of her palm.
“Did you just ask me why I’m doing this?” Bierner snarled as she hauled Damian up by the collar of his shirt. “You think I want to be here? I was picked for this job. Do you really think I came here out of my free will? To waste my time with impure, Outsider garbage like you ?”
Damian gritted his teeth in anger at the heated words coming out of her mouth.
“You think I like this job? You think I like to teach you or any of those damned runts I supposedly ‘favor’?” She hissed out as she pulled his head closer and gave a breathy, maniacal laugh. “The more miserable you Outsider wretches are, the better it will be for mages all around the world, free of your disgusting incompetence.”
She paused as she panted for air after her loud rant with Damian’s head still in her hands. “If you think there is any chance I’m letting you and your little band of Roamers leave this place,” She said a moment later, “You’re sorely mistaken. “ She threw his head down onto the mattress as she patted her clothing and began walking away with her head held high as if nothing of importance had just happened in the last minute.
Damian couldn’t hold on to his surging anger that had built up from her tirade of hatred. As she was about to open the door to the hallway, he let loose an insult. “At least I can last longer out there than an old hag like you!” he spat at her.
The atmosphere in the silent bunkroom changed as soon as those words left Damian’s mouth. As her hand stopped moving towards the handle, Bierner turned her head. Damian saw her eyes transform from a condescending, arrogant gaze to a hateful and disgusted glare. Her nose flared, as if she was a wild animal who had just been provoked. Her temper -- her unchecked, wild temper -- would unleash itself when the slightest mistake was made.
Forgetting everything about her composure, she loudly stomped over, and before Damian could react, she raised a leg and kicked his stomach with all of her strength. He fell from his bed and banged his head against the marble floor, the stun, combined with the pain from her kick, made Damian unable to get up or defend himself. She stomped on his face, over and over again. Eventually, her consistent kicks and stomps became a blur as black spots danced in front of Damian’s eyes from the pain until he had passed out.
~~~~~~~~
Splash!
Damian woke up to the abrupt sensation of cold water on his face. He tried to sit up, but his body refused to move as his face winced at the sharp pains. With much effort, Damian moved his hand to his chest and felt a dull sense of pain there as well, as if there were bruises underneath his shirt. He moved his other hand to his nose and felt a pulsating pain as the memories from what had happened a few hours ago came back to him.
Sheer anger immediately followed. Damian bit his tongue to prevent himself from yelling out in frustration. His fists balled up the bed sheets. He wanted to unleash his anger on someone, but something stopped him.
Hold it in. He thought to himself. You can’t afford to mess this up. Others are counting on you.
Damian took a deep breath and exhaled, gradually calming himself. Eventually, his shoulders drooped and his anger subsided.
With another jolt of pain from his stomach, Damian sat straight up. He had to endure. There was no other choice, because the freedom of many depended on him.
When Damian wiped the water out of his eyes, there stood an intimidating person in front of him, sporting an annoyed face and threatening eyes. He wore a familiar caretaker uniform, spotted with fading dark green dye, which was partly concealing his very tanned skin. He hauled Damian up and dragged him over to the dressing room, where he was presented with a mirror.
Damian could see himself growing scrawnier as time went by. His cheeks were hollow, and his skin was a visibly sallow, pale shade from being confined. Damian’s jet black hair grew unkempt, down to his thin neck.
Damian was still looking into the mirror when he felt a nudge behind him. It was the caretaker. Without a single word, the caretaker held a folded set of uniform in front of Damian, which he reluctantly took. The caretaker then pulled Damian by his shirt out of the dorms and into the hallway.
Damian took a look around the familiar hallway as they walked, their echoing steps distinct in the silence. Crawling spiders roamed the corners, while unclean floors were imprinted by dirt, grime, and a few spots of blood. Holes littered the walls, where ants skittered in and out of, carrying drops of bread crumbs to feed on. The place looked filthy.
They took a right into a noisy cafeteria, where many students sat, eating their food.
That didn’t last long, as their chatter quieted to a complete silence upon Damian’s appearance. After a few seconds, he could hear them whispering to their classmates:
“It’s the Roamer gang leader who stirred up trouble again. ”
“He tried to fight someone who had an Awakening, can you believe it?”
“I heard that he fought against Bierner again. Look at his bruises.”
Damian snapped his attention back to the caretaker, who was looking for a tray to give him. It caused an obnoxiously distracting sound, amidst the silence. Soon he found one, shoved it into Damian’s chest, and pushed Damian into the line. Everyone stared at Damian as he joined the line of people waiting to receive their meals.
To Damian’s relief, the noise slowly resumed as activity gradually returned to normal. Damian approached the first window in the wall. A spoon poked out and dumped some pulpy, unappetizing oatmeal into his bowl. Damian was shoved along by the impatient people behind him, waiting to get their fill. A jaded cook with an expressionless face stood behind the second window, sluggishly handing out milk boxes and stale bread.
Damian finally exited the line and went into the column of occupied tables. He was met with the students’ glances that all said the same thing: they didn’t want to associate with a Roamer, especially the leader, in any way.
A hand poked out of the crowd and waved at Damian. Damian looked over and saw the familiar faces of the Roamers. Biernier must have banned us from the other building, our usual lunch spot,