Pale white flesh, marred and smeared with scars so small and pale that they were unseen by almost everyone, was being molested by midnight black fingers of smooth sin. The touches of the fingertips were light and graceful, the hands of the shadows around the child moving very quickly across the scars, under the shirt, up the leg of the jeans, underneath the blanket of hair that hid the neck. Silver tears slid down the porcelain white face of the child as it stood in isolation before its only friend, whose hands withdrew, satisfied that the child was whole and unscathed.

"Tell me what happened." A shivering, rising, falling, cold, deep growl commanded the child.

The shaking child drew in a shuddering breath and whispered out, "They hurt me."

"Where did they hurt you?" The growling voice hissed out, sounding threatening, protective.

The child's hands rose in front of it and pressed the palms against the left side of the shadow's midnight black torso and the whisper came across the dark room, "Here, they hurt me here."

Black Heart

Calls rang up and down the hall of the school building as the child's feet drew across the tiles with almost perfect silence in the loping gait. The shadow on the floor moving with the adolescent's reflexes, the only thing that stood out, though not a single soul noticed. This child's shadow was stretching the wrong direction. Everyone's shadows stretched behind them, leaning slightly to the left, but this shadow was stretched out in front, straight ahead of the boy's body.

His head was down, his hair over his eyes. The dark bangs were the only thing hiding the dark brown eyes from the world. Someone threw a crumpled up paper at the boy and his hand reacted before he had time to think. His fingers closed around the paper and he sidestepped someone who attempted to trip him without glancing up.

Nice reflexes, Birdie.

The boy smirked at the voice in the back of his head, the shadow moving with his step almost perfectly except for the fault of a sudden salute that made the boy grin and keep walking. Soon the child stood in the doorway of his next class and the few children he stayed with acknowledged his entrance.

He moved through the door to the back corner where he sat with his 'friends' that knew nothing about him except his name. One girl, a hugger, threw herself at him when he sat down. She was sobbing. Her hair was bleached white and had a single raccoon dyed stripe of gray and white. Her eyes were green and she was wearing all black and combat boots.

He was surprised at her display of emotion though her affection toward him was expected though he never hugged her back.

What do I do?

Hug her back, fool!

The boy panicked and threw his arms around the girl, pulling her closer and letting her rest her head on his shoulder.

What now?

Ask her what's wrong!

His hand flew out and snatched a sheet of paper off of the girl's desk and pulled his pen out of his jean pocket. His hand scribbled the words messily across the paper; "What's wrong?"

She sniffled and peered at the paper and took the pen from his hand; "I'm sick of being teased because I'm different".

Something in the boy moved and his arm tightened around the girl.

Oh, Birdie…

How do I comfort her?

Tell her you know how it feels…?

He started writing again, "I know what that's like. I think I'm the kid most teased in this entire school, if not the entire city. I'm sick of it too. I'm sorry… If I knew how to make it stop, I would. But I can't even stop my own taunting…. Is there any other way I can help?"

She smiled slightly and nuzzled her face into his neck, making something else move in his stomach, "You just did, Peter. Thank you." She said aloud.

He looked at her as she pulled away and he offered her the paper he'd taken from her. She smiled and took it from him.

Then the teacher walked in, calling class to a start, though the teenagers in the back corner all slouched in their seats and ignored everything she said.

The girl that'd been crying on him was writing on the paper again and he was watching her out of the corner of his eye.

Why did that hurt?

You know how it hurts to be teased and you felt better when you could believe you were alone, but now you know someone else suffers the same pain as you. Of course it hurts.

Is it cruel I enjoyed that on some level?

The compassion that it took for her to confide in you is what you enjoyed. It's not wrong at all. I've told you for a very long time you needed a human's compassion.

He shifted slightly and watched her fold the paper once down the center and place it on his desk.

It read; "Hey, thanks, I guess I just needed someone to even with. I feel alone a lot more often than I'd like. It was nice to know someone does know how I feel. It felt even better coming from someone almost no one has even spoken with. You sit with us every day! But you never speak! Haha."

He smiled a little and wrote; "I don't like talking much. I only ever talk to my family and one of other person. I don't really have any friends. I just sit with you all so I'm not in the center of a bunch of kids that hate me."

Then he passed the note back, smiling slightly off into the corner of the room, pressing his knuckles against his chin and resting his elbow on the table so the girl couldn't see his smile.

She's cute.

He was bewildered. What?

I said she's cute! Why don't you try being her friend? You don't just need me and me alone. I can protect you and be with you when you need me, but I can't give you what a real, living human can.

Yeah, but I don't want any other friends.

Why?

Because my life is already confusing enough.

How so?

I'm in love with a demon for Christ's sake!

This is a very personal matter to me, I would love to hear any adjustments you think need to be made but I do ask for a little compassion because this is something that's been bothering me for a long time.

Thank you.

Sincerely,

Syx