He sits, immobile
Washed out blue walls so pale they appear grey.
A shirt so threadbare and well-washed it is faded to a dull greyness.
Once blond spiky hair is now limp, with barely a touch of color.
Cerulean eyes are shut, only grey, grey eyelids showing.
Matron looks in the room,
At the boy who doesn't move, eat or speak.
His older brother comes sometimes. A steel-eyed, brown haired boy,
Who always seems to be in the company of an equally quiet teen.
Commands are met with precision, movement with nothing behind it.
Commands to eat are met with nothing.
Commmands to talk, with silence.
He lives in his own world, a world Matron could never understand.
First he is fed by not allowing him to do anything except sit.
This soon fails – all he wants to do is sit in his own mind.
The world is too void of color for him.
Everything is grey.
First, he is told he will be forcefed.
There is no response, so they hook him up to a drip. Grey fluid flowing into greyer skin.
The next time the brother comes, he is older, and the battle shows clearly on his face. A younger brother comes with him, the silent boy's younger brother.
His blue eyes are soft with tears, spiky brown hair goes in every direction.
A silver-haired boy stays with him.
There is still no response. They give him a monitor. His brain pulses with emotion, but none gets through.
He stays locked in his own world, a world of emerald and rubies, of soft hair and amused eyes.
This boy is nothing. Family comes and goes. Nothing.
This boy is only a word. A single word, spoken in his last breath.
"Axel."