Phillipeño Romero is at the bottom of the class. For the passed weeks his grades have been low and having his teacher continuously whisper harshly into his ears isn't helping. Breaking down someone with your words, because they are unable to do something is so low, you don't deserve to call yourself any better. If it is that you are using the technique of being brash to boost them, then know that not everyone has the mind to handle it. And, one of these persons is Phillipeño.
He is blind.
Phillipeño Romero, sixteen years old, was guided off the streets into a black seven-seater BMW, after being spotted sitting on a bench in a closed park at midnight, a week before Alexa was found. He was born blind, so at this age, he knows how to move around without any help, yet people tend to think less of him anyway.
That day, however, he was abandoned. He had never complained about anything before, because he knows he can help himself. He thought with his capabilities even though he's blind, at least he wasn't being a bother to his mother. Little did he know that just being there was a bother. She knows his ways and took it to her advantage one day, when she got tired of feeding for two. She took him into the busy streets of the city, holding his hand.
Noise was everywhere; cars honking, with trucks and buses, people bustling about, chatting, laughing or debating on their phones. Phillip has sensitive ears because of his heightened senses and he wore earmuffs. He thought this was just going to be another day out with his mother and when she let go of his hand, he stopped and waited. He was probably outside a shop or a store that she wanted to buy something from. She always did that.
She always left him outside to wait for her.
She always did.
She. . .why wasn't she coming back? He stood there for hours waiting. It was now late in the evening and the streets were almost empty. It was cold. People still walked by, but the only thing that made sounds were the vehicles that sped along. He had been standing like a statue for hours, when she'd normally be back in about fifteen minutes. He'd been waiting for so long, he was hungry, his feet hurt, his mind was clouded and he was thirsty. . .and lost; he trusted her so much to lead the way that he didn't bother to keep in mind the route.
Stiffly, Phillipeño took an unsteady step forward, taking off his earmuffs. He listened, and in the darkness behind his eyelids, in his mind, he conjured up white lines as the sounds around him bounced off objects. Those lines formed shapes that allow him to see to an extent. Step after step, he moved forward, touching surfaces for reassurance and then, he'd clap when it was too quiet.
He soon found the park, scaled the wall and took a seat on a bench, with his eyes open and head turned up to the sky. The sky that everyone described as an ocean in itself. He wished it could all fall on him and wash away the feeling of loneliness. Ever since day one, it's been there. Him alone in his dark mind.
Even now in class, with people surrounding him everywhere, he's an odd one out. Every body turns a blind eye to him. He himself turns away from Nobosklav's obnoxious spitting.
Through the open doors leading to the hallway, he senses two solids rush by in the noise; a familiar one as Mr. Moskal and the other, a young girl.