Hotshot had never been good at hiding his powers. After… Everything, he's come out with his powers and the memories. His memories, as much as he hates it.
But then he was put in a place for kids like him. A place he's be safe. He was so relieved at the prospect. Maybe he could have friends, maybe he could feel good. Maybe he could recover.
His brown eyes were so bright with new hope when the car he was in pulled up to his new home. The 14 year old only wanted a new start in life. Away from the people who hurt him.
Of course, some people hated people who were different. He had darker skin, and some people would be cruel as his parents because of it. He wasn't even Latino, though he looked it.
And that was the first time he used his powers on purpose. His hands heated up, flames licked his fingers. And with a simple movement, just raising his hand, it burst into flames.
He wished he's been looking when he saw the head person, Snyder, get a gleam in his eyes.
The next day he was shoved into a room, by himself. Sometimes, the vent in the ceiling would gush water. Other times the floor would heat up. And sometimes, the worst times, he was dragged out and made to be docile while being hurt in old and new ways.
He never knew how, or why, until one faithful day. He'd been locked in the room for over two months. He was so starved for touch even the beatings and… That felt nice.
He came face to face with a boy. Pale and blond and so guilty looking. Pure fear shot through him when he felt someone poking around in his mind.
And then there was nothing.
Hotshot had no idea how long would pass between moments of something-ness. Moments of memory. He saw other children. He tried to say hi, to be friendly and kind. What everyone, before he came here, said he should be to make friends.
He was always met with hostility and anger. A brief glimpse of powers being used. He saw his hands coming up and fire blasting from them. He wasn't doing that, he didn't want to!
Each gap ended with the feeling of someone coming into his mind. He began to fear it. He was so scared. Every waking moment was spent in petrifying fear. He thought he'd left this all behind.
And then, one day he woke up with his hands chained behind his back in a room. He panicked, crying and sobbing. He was so scared. He was trapped! He wanted to go home, even if home hurt. He didn't want to be here. Anywhere but here.
His crying apparently attracted someone. The door opened to reveal a woman. She seemed concerned, but Hotshot tried to scramble away. His back hit the wall. His hands heated up, as did his wrists. He could get out of here.
He ripped his wrists apart and tries to run for it.
He was caught by someone with cold hands. Ice cold. He didn't look down, he just saw blue eyes before things went black again.