"Ahhhhhhh—!"
Abir shot upright in bed, screaming, sweat dripping down his face. His heart pounded in his chest as he looked around his dimly lit room.
After a moment, he let out a shaky sigh."…It was just a lame-ass dream."
Still, the feeling lingered—a strange déjà vu, as if he'd lived that exact moment before.
The door burst open."Abir! It's morning! Get your lazy ass up!" his mother yelled.
He blinked at her in mild surprise."Oh… you're up early."
"Shut the hell up, old hag," he muttered under his breath, but loud enough for her to hear.
Her eyes narrowed. "You ungrateful brat—!"The slap landed hard across his cheek.
"OW! What the hell was that for?!"
"Quit yapping and get ready. You've got school," she snapped.
"All right, all right. I'll go down as soon as I'm ready."
She sighed, already halfway out the door. "Your father and I will be late tonight—overtime at work. There's food in the fridge, heat it before eating."
"Fine. Now get out of my room, woman."
Her glare lingered for a second. "We're leaving first, so lock the door. And don't fall asleep when we're gone."
"Tch. Does she think I'm five? I'm seventeen, you know…" Abir muttered once she was gone.
That was how his morning started—just another bad day stacked on top of worse ones. Now, hours later, he stared at the tips of his shoes in the swaying metro, replaying the fight with his mother and the torment from the bullies earlier.
No one on that train would ever believe it, but this bruised, unruly, foul-mouthed boy was the one destined to save the world.
The Regressor.
…Abir Hossain.