A young boy ran with jagged breaths towards the park. It would normally seem dangerous for a child that young to be running alone in the middle of the night, but to fight the boy felt that it was safer than being at home. The poor boy's enemy was a person who should have cherished and protected him, but instead that person had mercilessly hurt him.

The boy had several bruises on his body and face. There was also a large gash above his right eye that oozed with blood, making it hard to keep his eye open.

The boy came upon an open field of grass and flopped onto his back in exhaustion. He caught his breath and attempted to wipe the blood from his eye. Since he had laid down the blood started trickling down to the side of his head, soaking into his hair.

He looked at the clear sky. The stars and moon reflected in his dull eyes. A single tear slid from his eye as he watched the sky twinkle above him. He outstretched his hand to the sky. His eyes gazed towards the the brightest star he could find. He motioned his hand as if trying to grasp the star. He brought his closed fist closer to his face and opened it. His palm was unsurprisingly empty.

"Am I allowed to reach the stars where he can't reach me?" the boy whispered to himself.

"Not from the ground," a murky voice answered him. The boy's vision blurred as his consciousness slowly slipped. A warm hand found his and squeezed it. His eyes could no longer make out the person that the hand belonged to. The voice was muffled by the sound of an ambulance's siren. The boy's consciousness drifted to his inner void.