The taller boy with brown eyes watches the big man rush away, the small blonde boy holding his father's hand.
The smaller boy looks up, his blue eyes piercing, watching as the other boy peers down at him from the staircase, looking at him like a menace, a disease, an unwanted parasite that continues to take but never gift.
"Are you okay?" His dad stops walking, holding the smaller boy's face in his big hands. He eyes the taller boy from the staircase like he's a princess from a tower, one that the man will never save.
"Why wouldn't I be?" The little boy asked, genuinely confused, "I was just playing with Mr. Bunny and-."
"But you fell," his father exclaimed, "you fell, didn't you? You hit your head!"
"I hit my head?" The little boy asked, patting his head, but his father quickly grabs his head, preventing him from continuing. "I didn't fall. I have no boo boos. See?" The small boy holds his hands out for his father to observe.
His father, perplexed at the lack of injuries, just shakes his head, holding his son's hand again, yet his hammering heart signals to him that something is wrong—out of place—and it's them.
"Say goodbye to this place," his father said, "you won't see that woman again."
The small boy looks up.
"Bye-bye," he waves to the other child. "I'll see you later." His eyes were big, innocent, and mixed with a multi-color hue, clear with greens and reds and yellows and blues with a reflection of purple.