Imagine this.
Imagine being broken before you're five. Your eyes are empty, and your chest is hollow. You're angry, scared, and so very alone. You're a storm of emotions, yet you still feel hollow on the inside. Your tiny heart aches for warmth, for love, affection, a home and a name. Then one day, you get one. He's not much, the half-crazed old clown, but he's enough for you. Imagine losing that one bit of love you had by age ten.
Imagine five years of an alcoholic guardian, cheap floozies, and working your ass off to pay off another's debts. There wasn't enough money, there was never enough money. You did things you weren't proud of; you lied, you cheated, you stole, all just so you could survive. Somewhere along the way you stopped caring about your pride.
Imagine being judged simply for being you, ostracized by your appearance that you never asked for. People staring, always staring at you, the one who didn't belong. First it was your hand, all shriveled and red, always hanging by your side like a corpse's. They called you a demon for it, the spawn of the devil they called you. Then it was your hair, as white as bones picked clean. It always made you look pale, so very pale, like an omen. Then it was your scar, a reminder of what you had done laid out for all to see, a sinner's brand.
Imagine joining an organization of soldiers and religion, when your cheeks are still round with baby fat. It's your penance for your crime, you tell yourself, and you try to ignore how your uniform feels like a funeral shroud.
Imagine letting your ever present guard down, because for once, you feel like you have a home, a family. You go through so much pain for this family. Your eye is torn out, your arm is destroyed, and a hole is put in your heart.
Imagine becoming stronger, and rejoining your family, only to find out you're related to the enemy. It's like your heart been ripped out again.
Imagine the accusing glares and hissed insults they think you don't notice. You try to ignore that familiar hollow feeling in your chest. 'Keep smiling,' you tell yourself, 'you have to keep smiling.'. You keep smiling for the sake of your family (or is it for yourself?).
Imagine being captured by your family for doing what you thought you had to do. They had suffered so much, setting them free was the least you could do. Your family didn't see it that way.
You escape, and your family becoming your enemies. You become a third side in this accursed war. Keep smiling, you have to keep smiling, you're okay, you're not okay, don't let them see the pain you're in. This mantra keeps playing in your head while you fight to stay you. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts so bad you want to scream and cry. But you can't, you would rather die.
This is the life of Allen Walker.