The heat was becoming unbearable, a furnace trapped inside his ribs. Desperate, he lunged for the shower, twisting the knob to full cold. As the water hit his skin, the bathroom was engulfed in a violent, high-pitched *hiss*. *SSSSSSSSHHHHHHH!* A cloud of scalding white steam exploded outward, filling the room. The ceramic tiles beneath his feet groaned and cracked under the sudden thermal shock. Jack let out a raw, guttural cry that echoed through the pipes. Heavy footsteps rushed toward the door. "Jack!" His mother’s voice was laced with panic. "Jack, are you okay in there?" The steam began to dissipate. The agonizing heat vanished as quickly as it had arrived. Jack stood in the middle of the ruined bathroom, panting, staring at his hands. They were perfectly normal. No redness, no burns, no glow. His mother pounded on the door. "Jack?" He swallowed hard, his heart hammering against his chest like a trapped bird. "Yeah, Mom... I'm okay. Just slipped." It was the biggest lie he had ever told. Sleep that night was impossible. The shadows in his room seemed to stretch and shift, as if watching him.