A/N: Written for The Rebels forum November challenge: "Box".

Some people don't realize how much I notice.

Sure, I'm quiet. I have imaginary friends. I've only been alive for eight years. But when you live in a world like mine... well, you grow up fast.

It's not easy. At first I didn't know why my mother suddenly stopped talking, and my father got drunk every night. Calvin had to look after me all by himself, because no one would do it for him. It felt as though we didn't have any parents at all.

Then I wondered why she wasn't around anymore. I hadn't seen her in days. Calvin said she wasn't coming back for a while. I assumed she was on vacation.

And then I saw her. Not in the way I was expecting, but on the television. She was with a group of other kids. I wondered where she was, and why she looked so terrified.

A loud noise filled my ears. All of a sudden, it was like the kids were unfrozen. They ran around like animals, some toward a large golden horn, some toward a maze of cliffs. I saw her run toward the cliffs.

Days passed. She got thinner, dirtier, and never seemed to sleep. I watched people fight at lunch, but never saw her. I missed her.

But I did see her. I saw her at lunch on the fifth day. She was being chased by a large boy. He had a knife. And he threw it.

Two days later, the box came. It had her cold, lifeless body packaged neatly inside. It made me throw up.

So, yes. I notice things. I notice a lot. Why does everyone underestimate me?


It's short, I know, but hopefully you liked it. Review, yes?