The boy with bloody skin

  • by
  • Rating:
  • 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..?


3. Chapter Three

The mass of people groaning was really starting to put a downer on the should-be-happy environment so Marcus decided to move them out of the room. When he’d finished pulling each of them into the hallway he sank down on the sofa next to his daughter.

            “Flo. We’re gonna have to go, go pack some stuff.” He said to her quietly. She nodded and sank her face into his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

            “I don’t want to leave again. Just throw him out.” The whisper was almost inaudible, but the shift in the air caught Red’s attention and his ears pricked.

            “What?” The boy asked, frowning. His innocence made him unbelievably naïve. He’d had no experience with life. He’d never even been outside properly. All of his short life he’d been locked in a small room. No family. No friends. No possessions. Nothing at all. He had no idea that the terrified girl was whispering about what could turn out to be his death sentence. For if he was left alone he wouldn’t last a week.

            Red was still sitting on the carpeted floor. It was the softest thing he’d ever set his bare feet on, the most comfortable floor he’d had was smooth, cold concrete. His pale eyes looked at the girl with curiosity, pure innocent curiosity. “What?” He repeated, genuinely wondering what they were talking about. It could have been anything in his mind. He found himself hoping that they were discussing giving him more food, he’d like that very much.

            Florence stared at him, as if shocked by her own voice. “I-I-I’m sorry.” She stuttered. Getting up she ran from the room… and screamed. Marcus dived over the top of the sofa and ran after her into the hallway. There was a shout of anger and a thud and a groan and all fell into silence again. Red pulled himself closer to the door until he could see through it. One of the intruders (intruders being an understatement) had obviously grabbed her ankle in an attempt at taking a hostage, but her piercing scream had come as a shock to him. It was rather stupid if you think about it. Who wouldn’t scream if a person you believe to be unconscious grabbed your leg as you were stepping over them.

            There was something else Red hadn’t thought once about. Why did this family seem so prepared when their house was attacked? Any other person would be sitting shaking in the corner, and would never think to move the bodies into another room. The background of the family must have been a hard one. By the behaviour of the guard, it was obvious he’d been in similar situations before.

            Suddenly this dawned on Red. How did Marcus know where he was to rescue him? When the man entered the room again the boy asked him this question.

            “You see… I work for a group that finds people like yourself and make sure they have somewhere safe to go.”

            “But why do you do that?”

            “Because you’re still people.”

            “Am I?” Red looked at him with wide eyes, his red face, framed by his white hair, craning upwards to peer at him. That was the question. Was this thin, mistreated, scarlet, white haired, white eyed boy really, completely human? But what gave this stranger the right to play hero and save people like Red? The thought made the boy feel strangely angry, a feeling becoming more and more familiar to him as the years went on. “Why do you save us?” Something strange flashed through the boys eyes.

            “Red? Are you okay?”

            “Can you stop calling me that? I don’t need a name.” Red’s- or whatever it was he wanted to be called- voice remained completely calm, his tone of voice never changing once.

            “Red?” The boy flashed Marcus a look.

            “I don’t want to be controlled by humans anymore.” It was a huge change in character. Just a few seconds ago he’d been acting like an innocent child. “Do you really think I was that naïve? Do you really think I didn’t know about that power? You learn things being around cruel people. You learn how to lie.” Marcus was in shock. Was it really all a lie? Everything?

            “So you… you… Can you walk?” He almost felt like laughing. How could that be the first thing he asked?

            “Of course not. Have you seen my legs? They’re nearly just bones.” His truthfulness was the scariest part…


Everything he’d said had been a lie. Of course he knew the people were coming after him. He’d been hoping that they’d kill this fool who’d ruined his plan. He’d been waiting for years for the time when he’d be introduced to the leader of his prison. The man who’d killed his only family. His mother. The meeting had even been planned. He was scheduled to meet the man in exactly three weeks, but now everything was over for that plan. He’d do much worse than deafen that person. Much, much worse.

            Who, the boy thought, gave him the right to imprison him? Experiment on him. Hurt him. When he’d turned twelve he’d found out about his deadly power when he’d accidently shattered a glass with a cough. Everyone in the lab at the time had assumed that it was simple coincidence. The naivety of the people was laughable. Who would remain that clueless their whole lives? It was obvious that the boy would learn something from the humans around him. What else did he have to do? Cooped up in a laboratory all day every day all his life. Sometimes the experiments would just be him sitting there while they measure his brain waves or even them just watching his eyes while he blinked, trying to figure out how he could see with no visible pupil. He’d sit watching every movement. Listening to their breath as it twisted through the air with an elegant grace. He’d hear everything they said, getting to know how they spoke and acted.

            Soon he could identify every person around him. He could identify their breathing patterns. The way they spoke. Even the sound of their footsteps in the uniform shoes. He learned who had powers like his own. He found no one who had exactly the same. But he did identify every person who had unusual powers.

            They thought the boy was an experiment. But really they were the experiment. An experiment carried out by a child. Watching, waiting to see how far they’d go. He’d learnt long ago there was no limit to the cruelty they’d inflict on his scarlet body. Once they’d even dripped acid into his eyes to see what would happen… They’d taken seven years to heal fully.


As an abused child since birth he’d gotten used to pain. It was an everyday thing. Inevitable. But why should he have to go through something so horrible his whole life just because a greedy, sick man decides he wants to know why he has powers he wants. We might all be jealous at the nameless boy’s power, but would you ever go as far as they did to get them? Not even knowing if it would work? I’m sure if anyone was treated as he was they’d want to kill that man. That disgusting human being. The boy’s cruel life was acting against this unknown man the whole time. Who knows how many other people he’d twisted? How many other people who’d do anything to hurt him. How many other people who were waiting to be freed.

            This is where Red… No he has no name… comes in. He knew it was his duty to help those poor souls. Those who weren’t as strong as him. They should have killed him when they had the chance. On the day of his birth. Because they’d just created the worst enemy they could ever imagine. A child. A boy…

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...