Eight-year-old Squid struggled to carry his friend up the steps, the rain mixing with his tears. At last, he made it to the top and laid Hope gently on the cold stone. She was three years younger than him, and was the closest thing to family he had. She was like a good-luck charm, and almost never got hurt, but her luck had run out. Hope was dying.

Squid knelt next to her and held out his hands. An inky black liquid dripped from his palms. By concentrating, he managed to thicken it to the consistency of jelly. Slowly, he covered Hope with it, like a blanket. Satisfied that she was warm, he got up and knocked on the church's door as hard as he could.

It opened, and a young priest looked out. "What is it?"

"Please," said Squid, his voice cracking as he choked down sobs. He pointed at Hope. "She's hurt! She's gonna bleed to death!"

The priest came out quickly and knelt beside Hope. He laid one hand on the 'blanket' that Squid had created and drew back with an expression on disgust. "What in the world…what is this?"

Squid looked down at his hands, which still showed drops of blackness. "I…I made it. Please, can you help her?"

The priest stood and glared at Squid. "You're a mutant?"

Squid nodded, suddenly fearful.

"And the girl?"

"Yes, but she—"

"We do not allow your kind in our church," said the priest coldly.

"But she'll die!"

"That is not my concern." The priest slammed the door in Squid's face.

"No!" screamed Squid, throwing himself at the door. "No! You have to help her!"

It was no use. The door remained firmly shut and locked.

Squid went back to Hope and fell down beside her. "I'm s-sorry, Hope," he sobbed. "I t-tried."

He stayed there, holding her hand, until he could no longer feel a pulse, and her body was cold and lifeless. Then he covered her face with the blanket of darkness, and turned back to the door with death in his young eyes.

/ x / x / x / x / x / x / x / x / x / x / x / x / x / x / x /

Thomas was frightened; no, much more than frightened, he was utterly terrified. He had been arrested because the police suspected him of carrying a device which "scrambled radio frequencies." When they realized that he really didn't have such a device, they had almost let him go.

But then a severe-looking woman had entered the police station. She spoke to the chief, and though Thomas couldn't hear what they were saying, it was evident that he was the subject of their conversation. Apparently, she and the chief came to an agreement, for Thomas had been placed in her custody.

He had tried to tell her that he had parents, and that they were worried about him. She didn't listen to a word he said.

Now, he was locked in a small room that had a window in the door. When he looked through this window, all that he managed to see was a long, white hallway going past his room.

Once, Thomas heard footsteps in the hallway. He looked out and saw two people dressed in red scrubs. Between them, they were pushing a gurney, on which was a young girl not much older than Thomas's own age of eleven. Her hair was bright silver, and what looked like gold foil grew on her skin like scales. All over her body, the gold foil had been cruelly peeled off, leaving her raw and bleeding. She was dead.

Thomas didn't know how long he sat in that little room, wondering when they would take him and kill him, too.

Presently, he heard footsteps again, and this time they stopped at his door. He saw two men outside the window, both wearing red scrubs, and he knew that they had come for him.

The door opened. Thomas cowered in the corner. The men entered and came toward him. He kicked and screamed and fought with all he had. But he didn't notice the syringe in one man's hand until it stabbed him, and he knew no more.