My stoical disposition has always been my strong suit. Never actually allowing myself to want the things I should have, the things I deserve… if for nothing else, for all my hard work. For all the nights I emotionally undressed, searching for the solider inside to slay the monsters that plagued my nightmares. I had no one to depend on but the tears to comfort me at night. The many questions I had would long go unanswered; I was but a child after all.

I'm not usually this poignant. But in a few days, I will be sixteen and I can’t help but wonder just how long I will have to live this way.

Too much has happened today. I’ve crawled back to my room just in time to have lunch then take a long nap. There’s an inner conflict brewing. The tides are turning within, and I find that I am no longer complacent.

I was seven years old, with hair too long for a boy he said. It was December 23, and I was long overdue for a haircut and almost due to a Christmas gift. Zod's here all day Saturday and Sunday, in my room, every night before lock up and first thing in the morning.

"Doctor Zod, its close up time" The security called out.

"Yes, yes… I'm coming."

I didn't know it back then, but he loathed leaving me alone, almost as if he were afraid to.

(("Ryun, I have to go. But tomorrow, I'll take Ice Cream for dessert, and we can watch that Christmas cartoon you picked out."))

(("Do you have to go? I don't want to be alone."))

The psychological turmoil I put him through was unintentional.

(("Uncle Zod, am I a bad boy? I cried.))

Zod quivered in pity at my forlorn tears.

(("You are not a bad boy Ryun. You're a very good, talented and special boy. You’re so special that everyone has to keep you safe. I will never let anything happen to you, I promise."))

Back in sector A of the Apo Canter, a half-empty Vodka bottle was solid proof the professor had had had way too much. He drowns himself in self-pity when he isn’t working half to death. He loves his children dearly, but they only served as a constant reminder of his late wife. The twins may resemble their father in hair color and facial structure but in their eyes, Mrs. Cage resides. Her beautiful black hair was much like mine. But they stole her blue eyes and adorable check bones.

Swimming in a pool of internal pain, he locked himself in his office for the rest of the day. One foot on his desk where a little brown chest and a black key kept the company of some files and the other foot kept his balance. A picture in his hand and the bottle in the other, he continued his journey of self-loath.

The bottle fell and came to a prostrated posture, followed by manly sobs…

"I'm sorry that I couldn’t protect you.”

Back in my room, I awoke to an expected but timely unfavorable guest.

"Who's there?" I called out from my bed.

*Knock Knock*

The banging continued. I looked up at the clock to see it was already half past 9- 28 minutes beyond my curfew. I became alarmed. I reached to my chair of trousers and quickly drew one over my boxers. I cautiously stepped towards the door and opened it.

"Yes…"