I went to bed that night wanting the world to end. I guess I should've been more careful with what I wished for.
My name is Jacob Evans and, even though I was only fifteen at the time, I was thrown into a world that obviously had it out for me.
As it turns out though, sometimes life doesn't completely hate your guts. How do I know this? Well get comfortable because it's going to be quite a story.
It all started with the Collapse. A cataclysmic series of events that eventually lead to mankind's extinction. Some of you may wonder how I am here telling you this right now. That answer is simple. I'm able to tell you my story because I am more than human.
You see the apocalypse was brought about by something the humans never saw coming. An infection that, up until the point it turned on us, we believed would cure every disease that had plagued our kind for as long as we could remember.
All the way from cancer to the common cold, if it could be named, Prometheus could cure it. Everyone was so overjoyed that we were all blind to what was really going on under the surface.
Without warning, Prometheus decided to either kill the host it was made to protect or change it into something unrecognizable to even their own mothers. In a day, every single living thing was either dead or morphed into a monster. Don't get bummed out just yet though, you'll want to save that for later, because then something came along that no one ever saw coming. We like to call it hope.
You see, apparently the humans had a missing link and Prometheus realized this. The miracle drug had tried to fill the gap and, in doing so, had accidentally caused the end of life as we know it. Whoops.
However, to those chosen ones who could handle it, the drug gave unbelievable power that had formerly been locked away behind the tuanting grasp of fiction. You may call them superpowers but when something like that gets you into more touble than it's worth I consider it to be more like a curse. Nonetheless, any type of power you could think of was unlocked and given to the people who were still alive to help them defend themselves in this new age. I am one of those people.
Although, despite its best efforts, Prometheus couldn't get to everyone. A group of humans remained who considered themselves to be "pure". They called themselves The Order and they told us that they were trying to fix this broken world. But how do you fix something that doesn't want to be fixed? Easy. You fight fire with fire.
So the Order built facilities for gifted individuals called towers where we were trained to deal with all of their problems. They liked to call the Pandora Program. I guess the nickname stuck.
My story, however, starts in the shadow of the Collapse, so we'll begin in the aftermath. Back when I didn't realize I had any powers yet.

If you hadn't heard about me and my legendary bad luck by now, it all began when my idiot sixteen-year-old big sister just had to sacrifice herself for me.
"Psst! Wake up we gotta move," my sister, Brooke Evans, said while shaking me awake.
Like the intelligent person I am, I replied with, "But I don't want any cow in my milk," and rolled over.
She threw my backpack at me.
I bolted up after it hit me in the gut, rubbing my right eye and glaring at her with the other.
"Was that really necessary," I grumbled in annoyance.
"Extremely."
She was dead serious and shouldering her own backpack.
"Now get up. They're coming."
That was all I needed to hear.
Like a squirrel trying to frantically store nuts for the winter as if it had waited till the last minute, I ran around the house shoving things we might need into my backpack.
We crept silently out into the night sky through the door and stayed close to the shadows created by the half moon hanging low in the sky.
4:30 I thought, groaning as I remembered the time from the clock still running in the house. These days it was either sleep or survival.
Remember how I said Prometheus made monsters out of basically every living thing? Yeah that was kind of important. Because the things that were chasing us... well to put it simply, we called them scavengers. They are one part dog, one part demon, and two parts ugly.
I didn't know then, but later I would learn that scavengers would be the least of my worries.
Row after row of empty houses passed by as we crept for what seemed like hours, that is, until Brooke raised her right hand in a fist. Stop, I could almost hear her voice in my head. She sounded a lot like mom these days.
About twenty feet away one of the scavengers was slowly sniffing the ground, trying to pick up a scent, our scent. Quickly, we hid behind the corner of one of the abandoned houses. Bad idea. The beast's head and ears shot up and it snarled, revealing rows of razor sharp teeth as it inched toward us.
Brooke and I slipped the knives we hid in our clothing into our hands, preparing for a fight. We held our breath for what seemed like ages. Then it happened.
The canine's snout came slowly around the corner of the old, crumbling wall we had hidden behind and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. Then, to our surprised relief, a howl pierced the air and the animal tensed, closing it's salivating jaws, and lopped off in the opposite direction. Our second mistake was believing we were safe because where there is one scavenger, the pack is always lurking close by.
I let out a sigh of relief in unison with my sister, and we collapsed with our backs against the wall.
"Next time, remind me to bring the anti-disgusting spray," I joked.
"Sure as long as it comes with bad breath begone," Brooke responded.
We both chuckled nervously. I slid my knife back into place in my back pocket, stood up, and helped my sister to her feet. We walked a few yards down the street thinking the coast was clear. At least it was until we heard the low growl coming from behind us. We spun around and came face to face with a lone scavenger staring us down, licking it's lips hungrily, and watching us with those emotionless, dead eyes.