A long blue haired man is seen reviewing tapes on an old cassette recorder. With a slender hand, he reached for one of the tapes, putting it into the player. 

A black and white film like vintage recording starts rolling, while nostalgic piano music plays quietly in the background. It shows various memories between a child and an old man. The first tape is the old man smiling while posing with the boy. They're enjoying their time together, eating ice cream. 

The second tape is the old man posing again, but this time the boy is a little taller and older, a toddler now. The boy accidentally hurt his knee from falling off a bike, and the man chortled lively, his reaction to the fall. 

The third tape is the same boy, his facial features maturing, staring at a home-made pastelish whitish cake while blowing out the wooden candles. In the background, the man's voice is singing "Happy Birthday to you!" while they danced around the living room, which was falling apart at the seemes. 

The camera shuts off, the film fizzes out, and a background shot of the diner table is shown, where the boy and man are sitting, on opposite ends. Droplets of water run down the ceiling, the windows tainted with dust. 

"Blake, I'm sorrin' but I have bad news,'' the old man explained.  His face looked solemn, disappointed, and frustrated as he put his hands together impatiently.

"What, Abe?" Blake replied, while stuffing rice into his mouth. His eyes were orange and bright, gleaming quietly  in the dusty thick humid air.

"I might have to leave for a few weeks.” He paused. “My boss is lookin' to give extra Chrono Dollars to whoever can work in another location for a bit." The silence intensified like a rubberband. Blake stood  up abruptly, the chair rustling outwards.

( Chronos = currency in this world. )

The boy slammed the table. 

"No. Don't go. You promised not to."

"This is for you, kid.” Abraham assured him. “ Ever since I found you abandoned in those streets when yo was a baby, I've been workin' my arse off… to feed both of us." He curled his lips, his eyebrows were frustrated and furrowing. Trying to  maintain his composure, he muttered out,  "It's harder cause we're just Monos, Blake. "

" BUT YOU PROMISED! At least let me help! I can help, I'm not that we-" The blue haired boy protested. "Yo a kid. You're gonn' get hurt." Abraham interrupted  him, refusing the idea of him helping along with a  hand motion.

" So you don't trust me enough to help you. You're -just gonna abandon me here?!" Blake frantically panicked. Abraham sighed, as Blake clenched his fist, and stomped away.  

"I hate you!! ." He remarked and slammed his bedroom door, while Abraham sighed once again. He lifted his briefcase, and put on his hat. 

"Make sure to not cause any troublin', alright?"

The silence was cold..and quiet. Abraham turned to leave with a worried expression on his face. He didn't like the fact of leaving his son, even if it was for a short day. He cared for him and wanted to protect him from the cruel and stabbing reality that's in front of him. It pained him, but he knew what he did was for the best.

A few hours passed, and the blue boy rolled around his bed ruminating about his previous outburst to Abraham. 

"I sounded like a brat before..." He reflected, looking at his scrummy hands. "What should I do, what should I do.. '' The boy felt a big ounce of guilt laying on his shoulders. He was old enough, almost eleven, to know that he acted immaturely.  Glancing through a pile of papers, he held one in the air- a blank letter. Abraham often brought home scrap paper to help give Blake a baseline education. Abraham barely knew the alphabet, but he knew how to speak the dialect and taught Blake whatever he could.  Frequently, the boy  used the remnants of parchment to draw, using  his imagination and proudly showed them  for his adoptive father to see.

Abraham arrived at the train station with his briefcase. Tip tap it was a wet humid day, and the air weighed heavily on his head.  He walked inside the train with his working partner, Tusk. He looked youthful,  around  seventeen  years old. . He was a shaved brunette, having a mole on his left cheek. 

"Worrin' about your son, Abe?" He asked, catching the tired and frustrated look of a father on the old man’s face. 

Abraham sighed and massaged his temples to deal with the stress. 

"I wasn' meant to be a father."  

In the corner of the dark room, there was a monstrous entity wearing a white  cloak and  gas mask to hide his identity. He had pale white hair with red streak highlights, and red paint streaked down his eyes. 

"This..." The evilness seethed from his aura like gas escaping a pipe.  "will change history." He leered, his eyes revealed  to be heterochromatic. One purple, and one green, it was obvious that he was a Glitcher. A monster.

A loud booming explosion shook the whole train, and behind the evil entity, Glitchers sprouted out and were seen killing civilians… clawing at their very life.  Some tried to run away, some tried to fight back, some tried to call their loved ones. Everyone was desperate to live as red was splattered on the windows. 

Time was running slow, and a short hour became a long minute, and a short minute became precious seconds.  Broken limbs dangling from the edge.

When people's words became their last. 

Blake walked to the mail office. He held the incomprehensive written letter in his left hand, anxious because he had never entered the outside world without Abraham. Last time he was outside, he remembered that Abraham introduced him to a pastry store that had good bread. 

"Should I send this letter? Would he look at it?" He shook his anxious thoughts away and entered Abraham's account number. But before he could submit the letter into his inbox, the TV overwhelmed  his ears, startling Blake.

"Breaking News. 40 CIVILIANS DEAD and 320 INJURED FROM A DISASTROUS, EXPLOSIVE GLITCH ACCIDENT in PAROL STATION. Abraham Schmidt...Axel Hanson...Tunk Justin...were the victims-"

Blake dropped the letter to the ground. “Wait…what?” 

"N..." He said , in denial. "No...No.." Shaking his head with his arms.

Looking up to the screen, he saw the news anchor displaying the dead bodies.  To his horror, he saw a glimpse of dirty blonde hair, overalls, and….

"ABE… He… No... It can't be… He wasn't there, right?" Blake gasped, choking on air.  He started crying in shock, his knees punching the floor, the film camera shattered as it crashed into the ground.

 He kicked the mail office's door open and started running to the railway station. 

It's just 3 minutes north from here!

Blake ran, and ran with his dirty and cut up little feet, up and down the street. He tried wiping the tears from his eyes again, and again, his eyes getting sore. All until he saw a crowd of people in front of a train station on fire. They were all murmuring in worry about the situation. Most of them were fearful.   

"NO!" The lights were booming, his head was squeezing, and his chest was exploding. 

Badump


Badump


His instinct was to run to the yellow tapes guarding the station, to see if his father was alive.  "ABRAHAM!" He desperately cried out , while bodyguards seized him away from the scene. 

"Get away from the crime scene, boy!" shouted one of the guards. Blake elbowed one of the guards, attempting to get close again, only to be electrocuted. It was hopeless. The bitter electricity that punched his heart slapped him onto the cold edges of reality. Rain trickled from the sky, and melted on his cheek. 

“LET ME GO!” Blake attempted to push the guards away. But to no avail, the guards grabbed the baton and struck the boy. 

Blood dripped on the floor, and the camera panned to Abraham taking his last breath.

Blake and Abraham simultaneously spoke. 

"I'm.... sorry."

The atmosphere was dark, and grievous. . Rain fell from the gray clouds that hung heavily in the sky. The boy was lost. The boy was empty. The only person that the blue boy had was now gone.

Blake stared at his reflection in the puddle, facing the horror of his fears. 

Don’t leave me….
He cradled himself, wiping his tears, rocking back and forth.

Don’t leave me…please…..

I’m sorry……

Pulling his hair, he clenched his teeth, the revelations stomping on top of him. 

Please don’t leave me….

Not right now….

Please not right now…

NOT RIGHT NOW!

He punched his right fist into the nearby brick wall. 

"WHY, HUH?" Anger exploded inside his veins. "THOSE… THOSE MONSTERS COULD'VE KILLED SOMEONE ELSE!"

 He struck the wall using his left fist again, this time blood trickling down his pale skin. A tear rolled down his eye full of fury. He collapsed to the  cold wet floor in depression and surrendered to his fate. "I didn't mean it when I said I hated you…." He tried to comfort himself by choking himself, trying to grasp for air. "I didn't mean it. I didn't mean it. I didn't mean it…..Please don’t leave me.."       

“I didn’t mean it.”  

After a period of resentment and grief, he stood up, his body still shaking from the cold air and shock. 

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry….I’m sorry….”  He repeated to himself like a trance. . 

 "I'll kill all those monsters. Glitchers, whatever they're called, and make them suffer the worst hell." 

He slammed his head on the wall. 

BANG! 

“I’M SORRY!” 

BANG!


“I’M SORRY!”


 

He cried, beating his head to the wall until the world spun around him. 

The fact was… this boy was no longer innocent. This boy will, NO longer be innocent. 

Today… he unlocked a new part of him, an angry and resentful side of him. A side of him that will never go away, or fade.

Before he was able to continue, two officers with flashlights gripped the boy with his arms. "He must be one of the dirty orphans who stole food from our city." They spat out. 

“HELP!” Blake screamed and begged. The officers beat him repeatedly, kicking the boy down with their batons. “SOMEONE HELP!” He cried. “ABRAHAM, HELP ME!”
“PLEASE!”   Blood exited his mouth and it tasted like…hopelessness. 

“ABRAHAM!”  The boy made his last prayer, praying for someone to save him.
For Abraham to come back and for it to all be a stupid nightmare.


But after that day…he never prayed again. 

Rattle....................Rattle...

Rattle....

Rattle....

Rattle...

The blue boy was seen behind bars, with other mono children. Most of the children were skinny, and malnourished. Some were scared. Some were traumatized. Some were mutilated. They were heading to one of the most famous auction houses in the world- The Masquerade Ball.

The annual Masquerade Ball was a grant event  dedicated to the world’s most substantial and wealthiest families. It was also hosted and sponsored by the Mayor,  who was responsible for inviting the most successful people in the world.  A common part in every Masquerade Ball was the auctioning of Mono orphans to become slaves for these prodigious invited families.

The children lined up, all chained and shackled. A platinum haired middle aged Tetra, started giving a number to  each of them like they were cattle. He pushed the blue boy up front first. 

"Blue haired 11 year old MONO. Around 130 cm tall, and weighs 62 pounds." The man hit Blake harshly on the back. "Can you talk, kid?"

He remained silent. He was in a state of nothingness or numbness. Like nothing really had a purpose anymore. The man continued his description of Blake, smiled morbidly.  "As you can see, this mutt is mute but obedient. He will last long under your wing. Let's start with 100 Chrono Dollars."

People started raising their hands and shouting higher bids. "300!"

"1,000!" "4,000!" "Haha. 10,000!" "30,000!"

"100,000!" An elderly woman shouted from the other side. There was silence while people started mumbling to each other.

"1 million." A man raised his hand in a calm manner. The man was Flavian Morelli, one of the richest billionaires in Terrenova City. 

"Going Once...Going Twice... 

“Sold!" 

Blake was escorted to Flavian Morelli's household.

He would soon stay there for four agonizing years, serving the Morelli family.

I wondered if anything really changed.

Because I don't think they have.

Every day is the same.

And there's nothing I can do about it.

Four long years have passed, and Blake was now a bit older than a baker’s dozen. During his time being a slave, he was tortured relentlessly. But in between the sessions, he was given a small frame of freedom, to polish his external appearance to make the Morelli Family look reputable. He decided to get a few piercings, and a necklace that reminded him of Abraham. Even after all these years, he felt like something was always missing.

He was walking on the street, to transfer a few machines back to the Morelli Properties. Distracted by his deflating and inflating thoughts of nothingness, he could not see the vehicles passing behind him. 

A thought strung inside him.

Perhaps, if he was hit; he wouldn’t have to think anymore. A death of his own.  That he wouldn’t have to care anymore.  Hearing the car speed accelerated, the motor escalating, 

Blake closed his eyes, ready for the impact. 

But he felt nothing but a loud bang in his ears.  To his disappointment and dismay, he opened his eyes and stared at the sight in front of him.  

A pink haired girl flying in the air backwards, with glass shattering into a thousand pieces. 

For a moment, he thought he saw an angel. But she wasn't an angel. She was something else.

She has emerald and reflective pure eyes, ones that got you second guessing your life decisions.

She was beautiful.