Night had come again, Nixon and Seth make their way to a smaller building and hide in a smaller area within the building, weapons readied. Hours and hours. They repeated this pattern for multiple days, hiding in a building, and running to another in the morning without a real goal in mind. The only thing that they had to think about was survival.
***
The boy had thought he had lost his arms for good, that they'd be rendered useless from the pain but he came out unscathed. The orphans felt bad for him after hearing his screams ring out through the orphanage but they couldn't say anything simply because of the embarrassment they felt for their naivety.
Hours into the same day...
The doorbell to the orphanage rings wildly, constantly repeated. Irritated, a worker walks over to the door and swings it open to see a tall man covered in black, a mask blocking their face in the shape of a bird. The worker raises an eyebrow, waiting for a response at the door.
"Hello!" The man loudly greets the worker causing them to reel back slightly. "I am a doctor and I've come here to check on the orphan's health, mental or otherwise!"
"Did we... call for a doctor?"
"No! No! It's a mandatory check-up made by the city mayor since we have suspicions that a new disease specifically spread through children have been going around lately, why don't you let me in!"
"Wait... wait. A disease? What's the disease?"
"It is best to be ignorant about something like that you know?"
The worker sighs, leading the doctor into the orphanage. The orphans, along with the boy are lined up in front of the doctor, each one examined and injected with a syringe an unknown substance. This goes on for a few hours until finally, the doctor leaves.
The orphans and the boy are then put to bed, where another day passes.
The boy attempts once again to sleep a sleepless sleep but fails to ignore his naive proposition of sleep once again knowing well enough that his attempt at having something peaceful in his life is but a helpless conjecture.
Again, he awakes to a noise, a creeping noise quiet to others but loud enough for him. The sound comes from one side of the room, one step, two steps, and a stop. He can see it's vague form, paralyzed in his bed, unable to hide under his covers. Fear overtakes him, questions running through his mind. What if it finds him? What if it knows he's awake? What if it's hostile? It looks over to him and his heart begins to race, eyes widening, trying his hardest to move even the smallest part of his body. It gets closer and closer as its face becomes more and more visible.
A grey hollow face, a smile coming across it, wrinkles coming across in an almost disturbing amount of detail. Finally, the boy manages to move his finger, everything stops.
It is always the same. Looking out the pitch-black window, waiting for the sun to come.
This is the only joy he gets in his day, and it will be his only joy in the future days to come, he knows that to be a fact. A fact he does not want to accept but it is the reality he has been placed in.
His hands shake wildly, scared of what's to actually come. Realization stings his brain like a wasp, it will always be like this. It will get worse. He thought his days were bad already but then his book got torn and was tortured for something he did not do. It strains his heart, he even knew that nobody would love him, want him. He knew this since everyone already doesn't love him or want him, he's defective after all.
Who would want a child who saw beings that do not exist? He thought.
Why did he have to be born with such a brain by parents unknown to him? As he curled up into his bed grasping his pillow for dear life, he wished for a life better than this one that he knew would never come. He wished that someone, once and for all would love him for who he is but why would anyone love someone who has a brain like him? Someone who sees demons. Why would they want a cursed child such as him?
Today, he had convinced himself that demons exist.