Iris
And I'd give up forever to teach you.
'Cause I know that you feel me somehow.
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be
And I don't want to go home right now.
His eyes lit up as the gentle woman who caressed him cooed softly in his ear and he laughed as she pulled a silly face.
He loved his mother so much.
She poked her tongue out playfully and he copied her with ease.
"You're so good at those faces Miheal! You should become a clown!" The brunette woman laughed as her little boy frowned and pouted. He looked away and began to ignore her.
"Your a meanie Ma. I'm not talking to you no more.' Miheal pouted again as his mother just laughed.
"Daddy should be home soon shouldn't he?" His mother smiled again and brushed his bobbed blonde hair out of his eyes.
"Honey I already told you that Daddy won't be home for a few more days. I thought you of all people would remember. Considering that you're such a smartie-pants!"
"I don't think that Daddy will be back Ma..." Miheal trailed off as he began to nibble on a pastry he had been given moments beforehand. His mother looked at him dumbfounded.
"W-why would you say that honey?"
"'Cause I heard Ma and Daddy fighting the other day. He said he wants the other lady. But daddy won't leave. Ma? Why are you crying?" The young boy looked at his mother fretfully as he tugged on her shirt sleeve. Her tears began to drip onto her young boys soft cheeks as she wept.
"You're right hunnie. Daddy won't go away."
"I know! Daddy has to come home and teach me to build my cubby house!" A sudden knocking on the door interrupted the little boy
Miheal sat happily as his mother, his world, stood to open the front door.
"Ah wait Ma!" The blonde child grabbed onto his mothers coat tail as she walked slowly to the door. As she unlocked the glass doors locks, it was thrown open forcefully. Both Miheal and his mother fell to the ground.
Two men with masks pushed their way in and grabbed the shocked mother by the throat.
"Mrs. Keehl?"
She nodded in response and the male tightened his grip .
"Ah. That's good." The man bulled a silenced pistol and held it to the woman's temple and cocked it.
"You shoulda told ya husband to keep it in his fucking pants. That way he wouldn't get screwed by us and might not have had his head blown off."
Miheal watched as his mother sobbed and closed her eyes tightly.
"Run Miheal! Ru-"
A muffled crack blew through the woman's head and Miheal watched as his world went limp against the wall, blood coating her head and the wall behind her.
The man dropped his mother's lifeless body to the marble floor and looked at the quivering boy who curled himself on the floor.
"He's just a kid."
"We don't have to kill him do we?"
"Look, he just witnessed his Ma's death. Might be safe to kill him anyway."
"Alright."
The second male raised his pistol and shrugged.
"Sorry kid."
And that was his last memory before Wammy's.
Miheal Keehl had been declared dead for over twelve minutes as the ambulance rushed him to the nearest hospital. As he had lost so much blood the doctors had been on the verge of declaring permanent brain damage. But he miraculously recovered. The only side affect that the six year old boy had suffered was his weak immune system and susceptibility to sickness. He also had an inability to gain weight.
Miheal Keehl disappeared from official records and has not resurfaced since.
And all I could taste is the sweet
And all I can breathe is your life
And sooner or later it's over
I just don't want to miss you tonight
..
And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am
It's so cold.
It's so cold that it almost hurts.
"It's c-c-cold..." The little boys teeth clicked together painfully until a sudden heat enclosed him, instantly warming his tiny body.
"Now , why are you still outside?" The female voice was soft and the young boy smiled at his aunt who was still hugging him.
"I'm sorry Aunty...can we go inside?"
"Of course we can. Your mother wouldn't want you to get sick now would she?"
The little boy shook his head
"Mama wouldn't want me to get sick. Nor would Daddy."
"No they wouldn't. Let's get you inside my clever cookie."
The brunette boy grabbed onto his aunt's hand happily and pulled her towards the entrance of the house and began to drag her into the den where his mother and father sat cosily.
"Now cutie, you stay here."
"Can I have a snack? Like a crepe?"
A sad smile was on the young woman's face as she walked into the kitchen.
"Of course Mail."
Mail grinned as he sat on the comfy sofa and stretched his small body across it. He began to tug on the cords of the television as he waited for his nice aunty to reappear with his snack.
"Hey Mama? What are you and Daddy reading?"
No answer.
"Mama? Don't ignore me. What are you and Dad reading?"
Both parents kept their heads bent, clearly engrossed in the article they were reading.
Mail frowned. He hated people ignoring him. Especially if it was his parents. He skipped over to the sofa that his parents occupied and pushed his father's arm feebly. The only response he got was his father's head suddenly lolling on his shoulders.
Mail poked his father quickly. He wasn't moving. Or breathing. Neither was his mother.
Oh my god. What do I do!
Mail began to scream frantically as he watched his parents slump further in together, the blood only now becoming noticeable and the blue discolouration to their skins suddenly becoming a lot clearer.
He covered his mouth and sobbed. He saw the shadow of his aunt in the kitchen.
Why won't she help!
"Aunt Bec! Aunty Bec! Help!"
He watched as the silhouette came around into the hallway.
"What's the matter." She didn't even ask him. She just stood emotionless against the wall.
Mail didn't care. His parents were in serious danger.
"Aunt Bec! Help Mama and Daddy now! Call an ambulance please!"
The blonde woman shook her head sadly.
"I'm terribly sorry hunnie but we have to leave now."
Mail just stared wide eyed. His mouth hung open as he watched the woman grab a bag and reach for his hand.
"It would be a good idea to leave now or we might be caught."
"Y-you're a murderer!"
"It was all for you hun. Now you will be coming conscious or not."
Mail gulped. He was only seven. He couldn't do much if he tried. His eyes flittered frantically around the room until he saw what he was looking for.
A pot of sand.
He threw the pot at the older woman with as much force as he could and ran out of the dwelling as fast as his long legs could take him, screaming the whole time he ran.
'Aunt' Bec stood in the doorway screeching obscenities as she watched the young boy disappear into the darkness.
Mail pumped his legs as is foot was caught on the side of the main road. He rolled and began to sob again as he realised that his ankle was twisted and bleeding.
"Help me!"
He hadn't seen the car that was swerving in his direction at a ridiculous speed.
"Kya~!"
Mail woke in the intensive care unit of a hospital he had never heard of before. His arms and legs wouldn't move. They were all bandaged and covered in casts, his head supported by a metal brace which was penetrating his soft skull. He had been asleep for over three weeks and doctors were afraid that he would have suffered irreversible damage to his frontal lobe and both hands. He was in hospital for another two months and after his hands had healed a nice nurse had tried to give him his own for of rehabilitation-a handheld gameboy that had been forgotten in the waiting room. After a visit from an old man and a few stacks of paperwork and medical bills Mail was allowed to leave the hospital.
Mail Jeevas left in a wheel chair and has never been seen again.
And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming
All the moment the truth in your lies
When everything feels like the movies
Yeah you bleed just to know you're alive
And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am
It would have done him better if he had not have been taken away that day.
He was one of the smartest children that they had seen in a long time, almost in ever. He was the brightest child in the institute he lived in, but he wasn't educated in social experiences. He was almost a loner, never speaking unless spoken to.
Overall a very shy child to say the least. His suspected autism was not helping a fantastically great deal.
"Nate?" The man in the long white coat smiled as he read through the young boys chart which held information from older sessions.
"Yes."
"Why do you find that toy so interesting?"
Nate looked up at the man with blank black eyes, a stark contrast to his ivory skin and pale white hair.
"It's interesting because of how the wheel spins."
A quick scribble on the chart.
"Ah-huh. Why else do you like that toy?"
"Just because."
"That's not a very helpful answer"
Nate sighed and tugged on his hair.
"Because it is. It doesn't matter you will just put it down to my 'autistic' qualities isn't that right?"
Nate moved his fingers to the word 'autistic.'
The man straightened his glasses and sighed.
"No Nate we're just trying to see if we can place your condition on something else."
"Do all the tests you like. You won't find anything to do with autism or any other mental condition, all of you just don't want to accept that somebody may be smarter than all of you professors put together. Especially considering the fact that the person who threatens you all is only ten years old, ne?"
The man frowned and wrote on his clipboard again.
"This ends today's session. Goodbye Nate and I hope your condition improves soon."
The man left the room abruptly.
Nate continued to drag his finger along the wheel of his toy and he smiled and sat repeating his actions for another forty-five minutes.
...
"Nate?"
"Hmm?"
"We have your results."
"Are they negative like I told you?"
"The opposite. You are autistic, but don't worry with your capabilities you should be fine. You have the largest IQ for a child your age I've ever seen."
"Are you going to run anymore tests or am I free to live with another foster family?"
The man with the clipboard smiled sympathetically and gave him a robot with a ribbon on the head.
"Nate you've been officaly adopted. We have a charming English man who has already signed paperwork. He has a very beautiful and wealthy orphanage that resides gifted children."
"Gifted as in academically or as in 'gifted' gifted?"
"It is for the smartest children that most people have ever seen. I'm sure that you would happily make friends there."
Nate smiled pathetically.
"There's no need to lie and get my hopes up."
"Goodbye Nate."
Nate Rivers was adopted out that day into a beautifully wealthy school on a scholarship. Or that's what was written on the official looking papers that had been signed and dated.
The man in the suit was Robert Miller, a physiatrist who had worked with Nate Rivers since he had been referred to the institution which was studying his mental progress after the traumatising event of which his parents dies after falling over a railing at a local mountain range as Nate stood behind them screaming their names for hours until he was discovered cold and hyperventilating. It was then discovered that the boy had trouble breathing on most occasions and that this episode was not a new occurrence.
And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am
And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am.
It burns.
It burns.
It burns.
Why did you leave me? Why didn't you grab my hand Mum before you left? Why did you scream and jump out of the window? Did you forget that your son was in the basement?
The little black haired boy was at a loss for what to do. He couldn't run out the door, or the leaping flames that were engulfing his house would kill him. There were no windows in the basement for obvious reasons. There was no escape for him.
Lawliet was clearly going to die in this smoky cellar.
He didn't want to die.
If he died, then he wouldn't be able to see the lights again.
He wouldn't be able to eat or play again.
That was as much as a seven year old boy could grasp on the concept of death.
Heaven and angels for the good.
Hell and fire for the bad.
Is this hell?
Lawliet coughed as the floor above him had begun to collapse under the strain of the flames which ate through the floorboards rabidly.
Lawliet began to sob as saw the roof collapse, leaving a gaping hole through the wall which he could easily climb through without burning himself. He waddled through the hole and pulled his lean figure over. He grunted in pain as he landed on his back, a broken piece of brick impaling him in the ribs.
He cried out as his childhood home burnt to the ground.
His neighbours had gathered all frantically calling to each other to phone the fire department, yet nobody noticed the injured boy who lay on the grass crying and bleeding instead focusing on the burnt corpses of his parents which lay on the blackened ground twenty metres away from him.
This must...be...from the...smoke inhalation...I can't really think...
He passed out before anybody could get to his limp body.
...
Lawliet was forced to live in a children's refuge for almost a whole year. He had already had his birthday, he was becoming colder and studying more. People began to avoid him.
He was too clever for them to comprehend.
He had entered many competitions and had a habit of beating grown men at their own game.
It made him feel wonderful.
...
"Hello Lawliet." An elderly man with a large moustache greeted the young boy with a large smile on his face.
He was greeted with a melancholy glare from the child.
"Hello. Who are you?" Lawliet asked sceptically. He didn't want to bother with an old man who wouldn't do anything for him.
"I'm Quillish Wammy. I'm an inventor. "
"I'm not interested."
"Ah. Would you be interested to know that I also run successful orphanages all around the world."
Lawliet's ears perked.
It wasn't the fact that he disliked the refuge, but it had seemed to be getting smaller as his IQ became larger.
"I'm listening."
Quillish smiled and bowed down to the young boy.
"How would you like to come and live at one of my more successful houses? It's called Wammy's."
Lawliet smiled
"That's a little bit vain isn't it? Naming a house after yourself."
Quillish laughed.
"It is a little bit. Here," He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a large round lollipop.
Lawliet's black eyes lit up as he sucked on the treat.
Wammy smiled as he held the little boy's hand.
Lawliet looked up at his new carer.
He could really get to like this sort of life at Wammy's house.
I just want you to know who I am.
So is this a love or a hate D: ?
R&R puh-leseeeee~
-ambie-lee-smiley-chanX3