"Is it possible to find love during war?"
Half lidded hues peered across the abyss, fingertips palming the fabric of his wet sleeves. Heart pounded against the surface of his rib cage, beating in an uneven rhythm; the only thing reminding him that he was alive.
Was he, a boy who once lived in a utopian society, really alive? It didn’t seem that way. Sure, he had the same organs as everyone else, same features, same routine, same purpose he had to fulfil, same lifespan. But it didn’t feel right. He was exactly like the rest of the world, barring looks and the way his thoughts processed. Yet he, who had no name, was deemed an individual.
An individual who stuck out like a sore thumb among the rest. Everyone had been taught to think the same, act the same and speak the same. His defiance was obvious from day one, resulting in him suffering in silence. Trapped within the constraints of his mind were thoughts he daren’t speak aloud.
Why was he, a boy no older than twelve, participating in a war that seemed to be everlasting? Hope was slipping through his palms with every step he took forward. Breath hitched in his throat, eyes clamping shut as they had done many times before, the horrors which he witnessed every day ceasing to exist for a millisecond.
Amidst the cavern were limbs flayed like flower stems, blood seeping through the remains of what was once deemed a safe place to live.
“Hide from the truth, cover up the proof.”
The nameless boy held out his palm, shifting it so it was pointed at the scenery before him. His eyes suddenly opened, turning to crimson as black lettering seemingly shifted across the surface multiple times; spelling out his code. A burning feeling ignited within him and he concentrated on making it grow.
A white gas seeped from his fingertips, slivering into every crevice of the imaginary box he had formed around the cavern. When it vanished and the sight was no longer hazy, the land was cleansed and the disaster which occurred before looked as if it had never happened.
He brought his now closed fist to his chest, clutching it tightly with his other hand. Bowing his head, he choked out droplets of blood. “You did well,” a small smile curled the corners of his lips, and “your family would be proud."
And they would've, if he had any. He wasn't born. He was created. Creations didn't have a family, they weren't entitled to live a normal life. They were merely objects that were used as a weapon to hide humanity's mistakes.
So, what happens when the creation falls in love with humanity - more specifically, one aspect of it; a human.