I had told myself that I was going to finish my other stories before I started anything new, but I've hit a roadblock in my story. In 'I'm in love with Someone I Barely Know' I have to do some extensive research to do finish the story. And in 'Chocolate and Cigarettes' I am typing up Chapter 6 now, but I've gotten serious Writer's Block. While hanging with my friends, they have given me many ideas for stories, so I'm over here with story ideas coming out my butt and I couldn't write them without breaking my promise to myself, but I felt like writing this one, so who cares?

Hope you guys enjoy the Prologue!

~Emmy

Prologue

Mello

December 13, 1989, 11:46 PM. The hospital room filled with the cries of a newborn infant. A father's laughter of joy and a mother's almost inaudible giggle. Eye contact was made across the room, and soon the room fell silent. The infant's cry was swallowed, the father's laughter halted, the mother's giggle ceased. The time lapse seemed to stretch briefly. A cry rang out, a cry filled with such remorse, anyone who heard the sound felt just as anguish as the man who let out the scream.

Staggering out the room, Mr. Keehl felt his tears fall down his face. One of the nurses followed the man out the door, leaving the newborn with the other woman. She placed her hand reassuringly on the man's trembling shoulder. He shook it off until he heard the woman's words.

"What will you do with your son? You haven't even held him yet. The passing of your wife cannot stop your beginning of being a father." Mr. Keehl turned on his heel and straightened up to his 6'5" of height. His cold blue eyes harden at the sight of the pudgy woman below him.

"You do not have the authority to tell me what I can and cannot do after the passing of my wife. She was my everything and you cannot-" The man stopped short in the middle of his sentence, seeing the other nurse emerge from the room he had just left. Held in her arms was a bundle inside of a light blue blanket. His body wouldn't move as the woman approached him and angled the infant towards him. He didn't refuse as the child slide from her arms to his own.

The child that he held looked so much like the woman he loved. The only thing that resembled himself were the blue eyes that looked up at him. The blue eyes that looked like cold, frozen ice. Mr. Keehl couldn't think of letting go of the child, now that he had seen it, held it. He knew that the child in his hands was the result of him and his one and only love. He bent his head forward and touched his forehead with his child's, whispering a single word only he could near.

"Mihael."

Matt

February 2, 1990, 2:36 AM. A delivery room was hushed as a child was brought from the womb of his mother. The nurse was on the verge of panicking at the silence that emanated from the small child, but was reassured when wide, bright green eyes looked into her own chocolate brown ones. She walked to the bedside of the newborn's mother, but she was stopped short by the hand of the woman that laid on the hospital's bed.

"Don't bring that little abomination over next to me." The woman stated, emotionlessly. The nurse was taken aback.

"But, ma'am. You're child… If you don't want him… You'll have to… put him into an orphanage…" The nurse's voice trailed off as she finished her sentence. A pair of vivid green eyes were still on the woman that held him close. She turned to a pair that were almost like the other's, only less alive. The dull green eyes blinked once and replied emotionlessly, just like she did earlier.

"So? Go ahead and do it." Chocolate brown eyes widen from shock. No mother she had ever known would throw their child away without a reason. The women she delivered children for had legitimate reasons to give up their children. They were too young to take care of it; they didn't have the money to take care of their child and themselves. But, all of them had tears brimming their eyes, and they didn't stop themselves as they let the tears fall.

This woman was different. She didn't have an ounce of feeling for her child. Her dim dark green eyes didn't have the slightest hint of a tear or sorrow. The nurse almost felt like spitting at the woman and walking out on her, but she only felt misery for the newborn's mother. The nurse looked down at the new life that she had been holding in her hands the whole time.

"Will you at least give him a name?" she asked softly. The mother's head tilted slightly to the left, as if to show she was thinking seriously.

"Mail. Mail Jeevas. The name of the asshole who got me pregnant in the first place. Now, his bastard son will share his name." The nurse shook with anger for the woman that laid in the bed before her. Before she acted on her anger, she nodded in the woman and left the room with the blue bundle in her arms.

Mello

A small child ran around, screaming and laughing as he was being chased by his puppy. Matt was a pompsky, a mix breed between a Husky and a Pomeranian. He was the only thing that brought him happiness.

His father, tall and intimidating, would often yell and hit him. It wasn't a surprise to the young Mihael to see new bruises on his arm in the morning. But, the blonde child didn't blame his father. Every night, he would sneak down the hallway towards his father's bedroom. He saw the same sight he always saw; his father was kneeling beside his bed with his hands clasped together.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so very sorry, Michelle. He looks so much like you. Every time I see him and hear his sweet, innocent voice, I can't help but think of that dreadful night when you were taken from me. He is our son, but he is also the thing that killed you…"

After hearing his father's apology, Mihael always forgave his father. He was the only thing he had, really. He never met this 'Michelle,' who seems to be his mother. But, by the sound of his father's words, she must have been extremely beautiful.

One day, Mr. Keehl snapped. He was smoking profusely. The ashtray littered with many cigarettes. His son waddled over to him and placed a single hand on his knee.

"Daddy. Are you okay?" The man looked down at the tiny creature below him. His furious face transformed into one of annoyance and infuriation.

"You want to know if I'm alright?" His stone cold voice matched his ice blue eyes. His son nodded without hesitation. Mr. Keehl stabbed his sixteenth cigarette into the ashtray beside him and grabbed his son, making his way into the kitchen. He set the boy on the counter, next to the kitchen sink. Crouching down, he opened the cabinet and searched through the bottles until he found what he was looking for. Pro-Drano Drain Cleaner, with hydrochloric acid.

Mihael was smart for his age. Although he was only four, he had the knowledge a sixth grader would have, plus a little more. So, when he saw his father take out the drain cleaner and pop open the top, he began to panic.

"Daddy. What are you doing? Daddy!" The young boy was powerless compared to the older man. His father seemed to have lost his mind as he threw the acid based chemical at his son's face and body. Hearing the sizzle of the acid against the pale skin, Mr. Keehl seemed to snap back to reality. He slowly took a step back and dropped the bottle on the floor, drain cleaner going everywhere.

He rushed back over to the kitchen sink, grabbing a dish towel along the way. Dosing the cloth in cold water, he dabbed his burning son. The screams of the young boy were deafening. His father couldn't believe what he had just done. It was obvious that he wasn't ready to be a father.

After the screams past and Mihael had passed out from the overwhelming pain, Mr. Keehl called for an ambulance, which had gotten to their location under 10 minutes. Being whisked away to the hospital, the father didn't know what to do as he sat next to his young boy, who was covered with burnt flesh from his face down to his shoulder and arm on his left side. Without anything else to do, he prayed.

A blue eye cracked open to see bright white. Everywhere. Mihael tried to open up his left eye, but was unsuccessful, for the other eye was covered with gauze. The young boy tested the left side of his body, but was stopped abruptly when a sharp pain ran from his face down to his shoulder and arm. Grunting from the pain, his father looked up from his spot on the chair, next to the bed.

A look of relief took place on the tired man. But, as a face of fright moved its way onto his son's face, his own transformed into one of worry. He bent his head down and placed them into his hands. Even with his father's face covered, Mihael could hear the muffled sniffles. Before the young boy on the hospital bed could say anything, his father cried out, "Oh, Mihael! I'm so sorry! I can't believe I did that! I know I cannot be forgiven! I don't blame you for your fright."

The young boy couldn't believe his ears. His father, tall and intimidating, was crying and apologizing to him, a four year old boy. The young blonde shook his head and whispered back to the weeping man while placing his hand on his broad shoulders, "It's okay, Daddy. I forgive you."

The man looked up from his hands to his son, who was comforting him. The man smiled sadly at the boy in front of him. Oh, how he looks like Michelle. He shook his head from side to side and whispered, mostly to himself than to his son.

"Even if you forgive me, I can't forgive myself. I'm not suitable to be a father. I think it'll be better for you to be raised somewhere else." Mr. Keehl couldn't bare to see the face his son making, a look of sadness and hurt. The man had to turn away from the ice cold blue eyes that were very much like his own.

"I've called someone to come and pick you up after you get out of the hospital. His name is Whammy… and this will be the last time we see each other." With that, Mihael's only living family walked out the door and out of the young boy's life… forever.

Matt

A young redhead popped his head around the wall of his ninth foster home in his four years of living. Mail was used to being alone and unwanted. He was since he was brought into this world. Glancing around, he noticed that his new 'family' had already gone to sleep, exhausted with having to deal with the young boy all day.

Nodding to himself, he padded away to the office of his new father figure. The room was close to his own, so he didn't need to travel far. The office was meant to be off-limits to the boy and everyone else that was inside the house, excluding 'Mommy' and 'Daddy.' But, that didn't stop the little redhead from entering it.

Opening and closing the door carefully, Mail looked around and found what he was looking for; the computer. The young boy had always been interested in computers. In his sixth foster home, his 'parents' had allowed him on their home computer a few times and he enjoyed it. Hopping up on the chair that was too big for the recently turned four year old, he wiped the memory from his head.

The computer had been left on, which made it easier for the young boy. In the other houses when he wanted to get into the computer, he had to find a way through the password protected user. Over a few months, Mail had acquired a talent for hacking into computers.

At the moment, Mail was looking around on the computer's network for entertainment. When nothing stuck out at the little redhead, he turned to the internet. When the young redhead couldn't find anything to entertain himself with, he traveled over to Google.

Without some much as a thought, the boy typed in Orphanage's for Smart Kids. His bright green eyes scanned the screen. Most of the links just sent him to ordinary orphanages, some of which he had been in. The redhead was getting tired. Looking at a bright screen in a dark movie was making it hard for him to keep his eyes open. Then, his interest was piqued.

There was one link labeled Whammy's. The website was limited. On the page, there was one number and a name that went along with it. Quillsh Wammy. Along with the limited information, there was a few sentences that described the establishment.

This establishment was made for children with extraordinary abilities. If you would like to know more, then please call the number above.

The mystery behind the website was what rose Mail's curiosity about the place. Without thinking about his actions, the young redhead had grabbed the phone from the side of the computer and dialed the number on the screen. Before he could regret his decision and end the call early, an older man answered on the other end.

"Whammy House. How may I help you?"

"Uh… Um… I would like to talk to… Mr. Quillsh Whammy." As the young redhead tried to make his voice sound more mature than it was, he knew he had failed when he heard a quiet chuckle on the other end.

"This is Mr. Whammy speaking. You may call me Watari, if you would like. And, who is it that I am speaking to?"

"Um… Mail. Mail Jeevas."

"Well, Mr. Jeevas, what business do have with Whammy House?" The young child almost squirmed in his seat. He was being spoken to like an adult for the first time and he didn't know how to handle it. What do I want with Whammy House? I just thought the website was weird. May be I'll ask about that…

"Um… Your website. It said that your establishment is for extraordinary children. Could you elaborate for me, please?" Hopefully, using bigger words will make me seem older than four. Mail's plan was shot to the floor when her Watari chuckle again.

"Well, it is an orphanage where genius children come to where they have nowhere else to go."

"Ah…"

"Is there something else you need, Mr. Jeevas?" The young redhead contemplated whether or not he did have anything else. May be one thing…

"Well, are you taking anymore children? There is a child I would like you to take."

"Who is the child, if I may ask?"

"It's me. Mail Jeevas. I would like to be taken from my foster home." Mail's voice was straight forward and firm; it was this sentence that made him seem older than his age than his big words, in Watari's mind.

"Where are you currently, Mr. Jeevas." The young redhead could almost hear the smile on his face.

"201 Mulberry Drive, Bellou, France."

"Alright, Mr. Jeevas. I'll see you in two days." Mail nodded, but realization was sent through him about him being on the phone, so he said his agreement out loud, "Yes, Mr. Wha- Watari." Watari chuckled once again and bid farewell to the young redhead. Mail did the same, as he clicked the End Call button and set down the phone.

The child exhaled a breath he didn't know he was holding and returned his gaze to the computer. Staring at the Whammy House website, Mail's eyes fluttered closed for a moment before he jolted them open. It's bedtime I do believe. I'm going to be busy packing tomorrow. I'll need all the rest I can get.

After making his decision, he closed the internet window, shut down the computer and sauntered off to his bedroom. Slipping into his favorite Yu-Gi-Oh blanket, his eyes shutting close instantly. Sleep consumed the exhausted child immediately, and he dreamed of all the things he could do in his soon-to-be new home.