The boy with bloody skin

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  • Published: 30 Jun 2013
  • Updated: 30 Jun 2013
  • Status: Complete
Who allows certain beings to be able to share their power with the world? Who allows others with similar powers to be ridiculed and mistreated… abused and unloved. Only those who ‘know people’ get away with such talents. Pathetic magic tricks… Rising in power day by day. Letting those who are normal… who are dull to rule their lives… Who says that one who is different must be used in bettering the lives of the ones who bring it upon themselves to judge them? Why must those with the power to make the world be in peace be stopped, be forced into submission by cruel, heartless people? Question after question. When will they be answered..?

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1. Chapter One

The boy with bloody skin.

 

Who allows certain beings to be able to share their power with the world? Who allows others with similar powers to be ridiculed and mistreated… abused and unloved. Only those who ‘know people’ get away with such talents. Pathetic magic tricks… Rising in power day by day. Letting those who are normal… who are dull to rule their lives… Who says that one who is different must be used in bettering the lives of the ones who bring it upon themselves to judge them? Why must those with the power to make the world be in peace be stopped, be forced into submission by cruel, heartless people? Question after question. When will they be answered..?

 

*****

 

The morning was a bright one for once. The sun had managed to weave its way through the thick walls, through the window covered with bars. The tiny patch of light gave him hope that the day would be a… better one. Could life really ever get better? He had his doubts but it never hurts to believe, when all your light is taken from you, you can’t be sure when you’ll see it again.

            This is usually where I would introduce this boy to you, starting with a name, maybe an age, even their place of birth. But not today. Our boy has no name. No age or place of birth. Everything he’d ever owned was stripped from him when he was too young to even open his eyes. Now why, I here you wondering, would someone do something to a child, just a babe new out of his mother’s womb? Fear. That is the only word for it. Those powers, those higher ups in society feared the boy. The boy born with snow white hair and blood red skin. All he’d ever done was be born, but he paid a heavy price for something as normal as that. Treated like a wanted criminal, his mother was killed before she’d even held him in her arms. Shot in the head for her troubles of trying to protect her baby. Her son. The nameless child was taken out of site. Locked away. Alone. Afraid. The only one in a cell the size of a cat carrier. A wailing baby, the only one of the likes him… or so he thought.

 

The pale light of the rising sun warmed his scarlet skin. The blank white eyes behind closed lids stirred, blinking open slowly. The routine of each day was the same, no matter what the circumstance. Sun or no sun, the day would remain the same.

            A familiar rap at the door made the boy sit up quickly. “Get up!” The harsh voice shouted through the metal. Slowly the red feet slid from under a thin blanket and settled on the freezing stone floor. He’d gotten used to the cold conditions of the place long ago. Growing to be unaware of any other kind of life.

Where he was concerned every fourteen year old child lived as he did. Every day waking up in the dark, being told to get up, and eating their cold breakfast made up of something that appeared to be scraped of someone’s shoe. His spine showed clearly through the skin on his back covered only by the loose white shirt that was his only protection against the harsh glares of the white lights, making the child’s head throb in a painful rhythm. The cacophony of sound was constant. The lights only faded at the early hours of the morning, they flickered back on at around seven in the morning, giving him only four hours sleep each night.

 

A morning of agony awaited him, torturous tests that made his thin, weak body scream with pain. But no sound of his torment ever escaped his scarlet lips. Thin, long nailed fingers pulled on his trousers weakly, every movement caused him pain.

            The white hair that cascaded over his shoulders was far too long to be called nice in any way. It was edged with split ends and it was greasy and unkempt, obviously never looked after or washed with the correct things.

 

“Good morning red!” The jolly tones of the guard that greeted the boy every Thursday morning trilled in his ear.

            “Hello.” ‘Red’ said flatly. Though he’d never experienced kindness he did know that this man made him feel… warm… Let’s call our boy Red from now on, seeing as it’s the only nickname he holds; and his unusual skin colour it only seems fitting.

            “How’s your day doin’ so far.” He asked enthusiastically. He wheeled the wheelchair holding the boy round the tight corner that the other guards usually wheeled the boy into.

            “Cold…” Red murmured. The man burst out laughing. “What?”

            “You’re a funny one you are!” The guard spluttered happily.

            “Why?” He asked, craning my neck up at him and staring at him in puzzlement.

            “Didn’t you mean it as a joke?” The smile slid from his face. “Do they treat you okay here? I mean as in are you given your rights and everything?” This was a new question. Something he’d never come across with this man before.

            “Rights?” Red continued to stare at him.

            “You know, like um… I can’t think of any right now… but like are you treated nicely. You know warm beds, clean clothes, good food..?” He looked genuinely concerned now.

            “I don’t understand…” The scarlet boy said, but it was too late for an answer, they’d arrived at the lab.

 

The room was filled with men and women in white coats and masks. A glass chamber in the corner glowed green. “Why are you late?” A woman demanded the boy in snappy tones.

            “It’s not his fault; I had to stop to do up my laces a few times. Kept tripping. You know me, Jenny, such a clumsy idiot.” He winked. Red didn’t see the wink but could feel the shift in the air as his eye blinked shut quickly. Ah! Now there is something to tell about our boy. He holds an unusual talent. One which allows him to sense every tiny movement through the air. Every bug flapping under a shelf. Every person walking and shifting. Every blink of an eye.

           

Jenny strode over to the helpless boy in the chair and slapped him about the face. Poor Red was stunned but it wasn’t anything he wasn’t used to. Being abused everyday was a normal thing for him.

            “Get up and get in that chamber.” She snapped, pulling him roughly to his feet.

            “I can’t walk.” Red muttered his legs were beginning to shake uncontrollably already, very close to collapsing beneath him.

 

Her long claw like nails grew and reached up to remove her mirrored glasses. Her amber cat eyes shone with the usual bloodthirsty malice. “Go on.” The claws reached down to grasp the helpless boy’s face, crimson blood shone where her fingers touched his already red skin, leaving the slightly lighter red droplets running carelessly down his face.

            “Ouch…” Was the only thing he said. There was a silence in the room only broken by the dragging of Red’s feet as he hobbled across the large room until he stood before the glass door of the chamber. He felt the air shift as someone reached up to scratch their head absently. On entering the chamber it was clear there was nowhere to sit. Did they really expect him to be able to stand for hours? The test was most likely to take that long. Gas tests usually did.

 

Other children around the world would be tucked up in bed, waiting for their mothers to come into their possession filled bedrooms to wake them up with a gentle stroke of the head. Or at the most having their warm covers pulled off them and their curtains threw open. All would be better than the boy’s morning routine…

 

After several hours of standing in the chamber the experiment finally started. By this time Red’s legs were in agony unimaginable to any other pain he’d had. It had only been a week since his legs had started to ache constantly but nothing could or would be done about it. A strange feeling started to creep into his mind… was that agitation? Anger? Sadness? He couldn’t be sure which of those feeling he was experiencing but he knew he wasn’t happy about how they were ignoring the pain in his legs. Perhaps the nice guard could do something for him?

            Suddenly the boy collapsed to the floor, his knees giving in to the small weight of his thin body. “Stand up!” Many of the people in the starched white clothes were shouting at him the get up and behave correctly, but as much as he tried he couldn’t make his legs do his bidding. Red knew the punishment for not being able to stand up was going to be a great one but there was nothing he could do. Who knows what the penalty for disobeying would be? Now I understand what you’re thinking: ‘how can he be punished for not doing something he is physically incapable of doing?’ but the fact is: do you really expect a group of heartless people will care about something as minor as simply being unable to support his own weight? The answer is no. They don’t care.

 

The metal door to the lab suddenly flew open, making the occupants of the room shriek in shock like startled birds. The guard from earlier burst in. “If he can’t stand, he can’t stand! Just leave him alone!” He shouted over the squawks of the disgruntled people. There was a bang as he pulled out a hand gun and fired a shot into the ceiling, leaving a neat round hole there and forcing the room into silence. The woman, Jenny, with the cat eyes and claws hissed in a feral way, breaking the quiet. She sprang nimbly towards him. The guard stepped back smartly and fired the gun into the woman’s stomach; she fell with a scream of pain. No one else in the room moved, everyone was stunned into silence again.

            With a newly found confidence he strode over to the chamber which poor Red was sitting in, his entire being shaking from the loud bangs and the sight of the blood pooling around the body of his tormentor. “Can you stand?” The guard asked the trembling boy. He shook his head without waiting for an answer. “Obviously not.” The glass door was opened. Staring at the man in confusion with white eyes Red opened his mouth to speak, but was stopped by his own shaking. The only sound he could make was a small whimper as he was lifted off the floor. “Time to see the sun Red.”

 

 

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