Five year old eyes streamed tears yet to realise the reason for the hate that surrounded his life, the loneliness he was forced to endure and the confusion he faced, yet to have a reason for the torture his young soul had endured for so long.
Ten year old eyes glazed in confusion the reason for the hate and the loneliness now known made no difference, he couldn't stop it, couldn't get rid of his family's past. A family he had never met and yet few accepted he was different and even fewer treated him so.
Elder eyes looked on in helplessness the knowledge of the situation the younger faced had been known by him for some time yet his options to change it were non existent. So he would sit in the chair with the position the younger so wildly desired and would offer advice when asked but overall the helplessness weighed on his tired soul and would follow him to his grave only then would it year old mouth asked question after question though the truth was known the reason still not fully accepted, not fully understood."Why did they leave?Why do they not see me the way you do?,am I truly the demon they believe me to be?"Elder eyes look saddened the answer to the questions known but the sorrow one so young would be asking them shown in his the first time the child had seen the emotion directed at him the eyes usually seen were ones of hate or tried to explain how the world was a cruel place and some were given cards worse than others but the life lived so far by the younger one made him believe the lesson was learnt the hard way through year of hate and abuseOddly, he looked happy. Sitting on that couch across the room learning of the fate his parent shared and the heroism they showed before there death to explain to a ten year old that his parent had died to protect a home that hated his very being, he thought hate would ensue from the younger but the need to protect his home won out easily and so the knowledge clicked and a goal set
Becoming stronger the key to the golden gates of his future
Memories from that day hazy five years later images of the old man the worn leather chair would fill his dreams and power his goal. The surprise that filled the old eyes though lost through the cracks in his young memory.
Fifteen year old eyes look on indifferently towards the glares being thrown his way from the villagers, his dream coming true but there would always be someone who glared.
All that is left of that day is the memoryNo longer is there confusion or sadness about their hateIt's just normalAnd maybe it was better that way.