My mama and I were walking in a busy street in London. Everything was lovely. The buildings were so tall; they filled the streets with people wearing different styles, but the young woman caught my eye. The young woman wore short skirts and dresses; I thought about why they did so. I have also speculated why I didn't have the same features as my mama.

Mama is a beautiful lady, and I wanted to look like her, but I didn't. I looked more like Papa. My mother had long brown hair and dark sea-blue eyes, and my dad had black hair with light green eyes, like the color of soft grass. I had my Papa's black hair and was gifted with my mama's sea-blue eyes. I felt lucky to have the same eyes as my mama because it made me feel pretty.

Once we got our food from the store, we headed back home. I didn't admire my home; it was ominous because mama said we couldn't afford lights. I wouldn't say I like the dark. It always scared me, but I had to stand up and be a man for mama.

Sometime later, I was in the living room dancing with broken blocks. All my toys broke, but I still enjoyed playing with them. I knew my mama had little money, so I never complained about my toys or food. My mother takes me to daycare when she goes to work. The other kids found me annoying and didn't like me participating with them. I wanted a best friend who could always help me when needed and would play with me every day!

My mama walked into the living room, holding a plate with a sandwich. The sandwich had white bread with a slice of meat, then another white bread on top. It didn't fill me up, but like I said before, I couldn't complain. I grabbed my sandwich and took a bite while I felt my mama's hand go through my soft black colored hair; "Make sure you eat it all, okay? I want you to grow up big and strong," my mama told me with a smile on her face. Likewise, I looked at her and nodded in agreement.

That was my goal, to be the most muscular man alive. After I finished my meal, my mama took my plate and cleaned it in the sink. Noticing that my mama didn't even eat anything for dinner. I wondered if it was because she wasn't hungry. "Time for bed," my mama spoke while washing the dishes. This made me frown a bit as I didn't particularly appreciate going to sleep. I hated nighttime.

My mama came over, picked me up, and walked to my room. She laid me down on the bed. "Now, now, Don't give me that look. If you want to grow up fast, get a good rest," she replied in her sweet-toned voice.

I nodded to her. "I understand. I have to learn strong to protect mama" I grinned at her, and she smiled back. "That's right," she agreed and kissed my forehead. Then she got up and stepped out of my room. I looked around my dark chamber, holding onto my blanket. I knew the monster would catch and eat me if I didn't sleep fast! I tried hard to force myself to sleep until I heard a knock on the front door. Not only that, but I could listen to it being opened, and my mother gasped. I crawled out the bed and ran out of my room to meet a tall individual by the door.

The guy with black hair and green eyes. It thrilled me to see my Papa; I ran to him and hugged him. He hugged me back just as tight and rubbed my head. My dad was in jail for something he didn't even do. He was there for a long while. My Papa is the nicest guy in the world. I never understood why they would lock him up.

(Time Skip: A Couple of Months later)

After dad came home, he took me on camping trips, told me tales about prison, showed me remarkable bedtime books, and played with me every day. He was an excellent fellow and, best of all, a great dad.

It was now another night, and it was late. Dad lifted me to bed without speaking a bedtime story. He looked angry. "Papa… Why do you look so mad…? Did I do something wrong…?" I asked. My dad shook his head, "No, it's just something between your mama and me," he said as he kissed my forehead and walked out of the room. After he did so, a few minutes later, I heard yelling. There was lots of yelling going on between my mama and Papa. I was so worried and scared.

(Time Skip: A Week Thereafter)

It was morning, and my mama left for work after cooking me and my papa breakfast. My dad didn't look so good. His eyes were blood-red like he had never slept. He looked dirty, like he had never taken a shower. He indeed stunk with the smell of smoke, beer, and narcotics. I knew it was a drug because my mama told me that Papa was doing them, but I'm still confused about what they call it.

My dad stood up and walked over to me. "Sky, go to your room right now!" he yelled out of nowhere. He could even stand up straight as he yelled at me. I didn't ignore him, though. I was sensitive and hated being yelled at, so I hurried off to my room with teary eyes. I didn't understand why Papa was so mean to mama and me. Mama said dad was doing drugs to feel more robust, but he didn't look healthy or much lovely.

Later in the afternoon, I was playing with my broken toys again. I played several games all by myself. Mama claimed I had a wonderful imagination. Then, my Papa barged into the room, carrying his beer bottle. "Dammit, Sky! Where did you put my beer!?" He yelled, but all I did was back away from him, "I… I don't have a beer… I never touched one before…." I mumbled, feeling scarred by how he was bearing the glass like he would throw it at me at any moment. I could tell he was angry by the look he gave me. "You're just like your screwed-up mother, always telling lies! I'm not messing with you, Sky. Give me my fucking beer!" Then, he yelled a number louder than before.

I could feel my face wet with tears and shaking a lot. I was so confused about what he was talking about, and I didn't have an answer for him. He threw the bottle at me, but because he was drunk, his aim was off, and he hit the wall behind me. I covered my head and put my face on my knees to defend myself from the glass. I just wanted mama to come home and protect me from the monster in my room. Instead, my Papa walked over to me and grabbed me by the shirt, pulling me closer to his face.

I couldn't help but enclose my lip because his breath stunk. Then, he frowns and uncovers my mouth, "Stop being such a bitch about everything. You're a boy, not a daughter, so behave like it. Boys don't complain. Only girls do. No son of mine will react like a young woman," he stated as pushed me away from him. "Next time, I'll aim for your head if I catch you are weeping again," he said as he left my room. I cried after hearing him say that, but I covered my mouth and ran to my bed, burying my face in my pillow so that no tear would shed. I feared he would hurt me next time if he saw me sobbing further.

Not long after, the night took place, and my mama came home. I put up my toys so I could see mama, but while I did that. I discovered shouting once then, but matters were being broken this time. Likewise, I walked over to my bedroom door and opened it, looking down the corridor, but saw nothing. Instead, I heard yelling and wailing repeatedly and more items breaking. Not only that, but I ran out of my bedroom and down the hallway to stare at glass everywhere. The living room looked trashy. I turn my head to catch my Papa harassing my mother. It covered my mama in cuts from the glass.

I covered my views with my hands, not wanting to stare at mama the way she was, "Stop! Please stop, Papa! You're hurting mama!" I yelled, "Come here, Sky, and help me with your mother," Dad said. I shook my head and uncovered my views, glaring at the monster, "… No, never…." I sounded as if I meant it and didn't flinch one bit. My dad pulled a knife out of his pocket, let go of my mama, then came towards me, "I dare you to say that shit again." He grasped my wrist and put the blade close to my chin.

My body was shaking as I started to tear up. I never thought Papa would pull a knife out on me; "… I… I…" I couldn't get my words out from the tears falling from my eyes. My mama grabbed my Papa by his hair and pulled him away from me, "Don't you touch my son!" She yelled at him and then looked at me, "Run!" As she said that, I heard a police car pulling up. I dashed to my room and opened my window, crawling out. I raced towards the woodland, and when I glanced behind me, Dad rushed to me. I ran as fast as I could. I traveled deeper into the forest. As I sprinted past the trees, my blouse and skin were cut up by the branches and sticks. I tripped over some big wedges and fell down a steep hill. It covered me in mud, dirt, and leaves and ripped my outfit. Blood dripped down my shirt from the cuts I had, but I didn't care. I was so afraid and focused on running. It was like pain didn't exist.

I pulled up, limping, but kept walking. I was determined to lose my Papa forever. 20 mins later, I saw an enormous building up ahead. I did my best to run home, and once I made it there, there was a gigantic fence. The design was so old and looked like it hadn't opened in years. They covered it with vines and dead flowers. I crawled through the gate using a narrow hole table to fit through. Inside the fence was a yard leading to the door of the mansion. It was beautiful; it appeared it had been cared for.

I glanced ahead to see a well-dressed child carrying a miniature, silvery lace umbrella over his head. He was walking out of the building. He walked up to me and tilted his head lightly, adjusting his golden glasses to his left because of his tiny nose. His clothing was fashionable: a white blouse with plenty of frills combined with an ivory waistcoat and, on top of that, a white coat with short shining details, a pair of silver slacks mated with the outfit and completed with a couple of knee-length tie-up boots. "G-Good afternoon, sir…" the boy said and bowed, still maintaining the umbrella with his left palm.

His hands were covered in ivory silk gloves, and he held out one of them, offering his hand to me. "May I ask your name, sir…?" his voice was quiet, stuttering now and then but nothing too much. His outfit isn't what got my attention, though. Instead, it was his beautiful ruby-red eyes, ones that shine so bright in the darkness.

They were spectacular, and I couldn't take my eyes off them. I took the child's hand, "My name is Sky! What's your name?" I asked, then glanced down to see my filthy, bloody hands touching the boy's nice gloves. I pulled my palm away. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to get your hands messy."

The child chuckled; he looked older than me, but his chuckle was adorable. "It is all right, sir. I have more about where that came from. My name is Vincent Clarisse Von Gillérion" He spoke in a tone that made him seem very fancy. He bowed and stared me up and down. "You don't look so well" He frowns but looks back up at me with those innocent red ruby eyes. "I can take good care of your Sky. I have a bath, and someone could take care of your wounds," he grinned. I nodded at him, "I would love that. I don't have anywhere else to go," I told him while looking down. The boy beamed, thrilled at my decision to stay.

END Of THE PROLOGUE