The Whispering Voices
Chapter 1
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"Today is the first day of the rest of your life."
~Anonymous
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It had started on that one night, oh so long ago, when she had died. Prodigy albino child Nate River, age four, had been conversing with his mother when it happened. Elsa River was indeed a force to be reckoned with. She stood at a massive (to his point of view) five foot six with long blonde hair just barely tamed by a messy braid. Her eyes would constantly change colors depending on the lighting and whatever mood she was in. It would be a vibrant sky blue whenever she was happy or excited. The bright eyes would darken to a teal whenever she was upset or depressed. Those eyes in turn would become a deep, piercing gray whenever she was angry.
His mother was a scientist, extraordinary by any standards set upon her. She had a Ph. D. in almost every highly esteemed subject and was most famous by her work in the psychology world. She had, of course, settled down after she had him, knowing that a child's early years were the most important in their development. Many people worried about her, however, after her husband had died after being stabbed and bleeding to death in a mugging incident. Nate, at the fragile age of two, had already been aware of his surroundings for quite some time and noticed the change in his precious mother, making him very worried. She had grieved for but a short time, committing her free time instead to pampering her son and providing the best education for him. So what, one might ask, was the problem?
Yes, Nate River flourished under her watchful eye and loving care. By his third birthday he could recite the periodic table without blinking an eye and would constantly out-perform college students studying for their own Ph. D.s. He could've easily been the smartest child on the planet. This, of course, was never the problem. Children with high IQs were highly praised and loved by their parents and other adults, other than the envious ones. He was quite happy with his current position and saw nothing wrong with himself though he, of all people, should've easily seen the signs. Elsa River noticed early in her time as his mother what was different in him. No, it was not his albinism. She among many others had already known of it ever since he had been born. She had been afraid to admit it, for it had been her fault entirely how he'd turned out the way he had.
He had no friends other than herself. He only spoke to others if they were adults or well-known friends of hers. He barely even acknowledged the existence of any other children that happened upon his presence. He rarely even showed a remote interest in anything that was even a little bit childish. No toys or tricks for him. No joking or laughing or messing around or having fun, all of which were things essential to a child's development. She had failed as a parent. Because of her high amount of knowledge about the young beings known as children and how they grew, she had attempted to mold the perfect genius child. A prodigy. She now realized that she had used him, her own son, as an experiment to see if she could do it. Sure, she had succeeded, but at the same time she had failed miserably. By stuffing him up with massive amounts of knowledge, she had neglected giving him any lessons in social interaction. She had kept him all to herself and she was deeply ashamed. In the end, she had approached her son in an attempt to right wrongs, not knowing about the assassin that sat poised in a tree nearby, aiming a shot through the window and waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
...
"Nate, sweetheart?" she asked, knocking on his door. He opened the door wide to allow her inside, smiling at her and revealing his pearly white teeth. She walked inside, mentally wincing at the room.
All white. No color. No toys. No nothing. Yet another sign of her failure.
"Yes Mother?" he asked as she settled down on his plain white bed which had been neatly made. She winced again. Such formality between mother and child…
"Mother?" he called again, frowning slightly when she didn't respond and merely stared at him. Her eyes were a cloudy gray, though she didn't appear to be angry at him. She bit her lip as she watched him, "Mother, are you feeling well?"
She gave him a weak smile.
"I'm sorry sweetie. I was just thinking, how do you view yourself?" she asked him, wringing her hands nervously. Nate River noticed this as a sign of stress and discomfort.
"I view myself as a happy and healthy child, Mother. You've given me the best education possible and I am very pleased with my current position." He answered without hesitating. She frowned slightly.
"That's not exactly what I meant, Nate." She said quietly, making her son blink in incomprehension.
"How else am I supposed to view myself?" he asked, curious. She chuckled though the expression of happiness didn't reach her eyes.
"Try to imagine yourself through a child's point of view, Nate." She instructed, "One that does not have the same caliber of intelligence you do. Who would they see you as?" Nate was surprised at the question, but did as she asked.
"I suppose I would be a somewhat intimidating force," he said after a few seconds of thought, "I would be a threat, due to my appearance and intelligence, but they would not be a problem for me."
"What do you mean by problem, Nate?" she asked, trying to show him the light.
"They would attempt to attack or undermine me. Show that they're the 'boss'." He smiled somewhat slyly, "I would not have a problem dealing with them. Children are unintelligent and loud. They can be easily defeated."
"Nate, why exactly would you say that when you yourself are a child?" she asked.
"Because I am better than them." He replied simply, twirling a piece of hair between his thumb and forefinger.
"Nate, analyze your answers and then determine what kind of person would say those things." She said, frowning. He frowned as he thought, his fingers pausing.
"Sweetheart, it would make me happy if you attempted to communicate with other children your age or do things they enjoy to do." She said after a few minutes of silence, "It would do you good at well."
"No." he replied, eyes aimed down at the floor and his fingers twirling the lock of hair again, "I refuse to speak with children. I do not have time for such foolish pastimes. I refuse."
Elsa's heart broke and she gazed mournfully at the penetrating deep gray eyes her only son had.
"I'm sorry, then. I believe I have failed as a parent." She said slowly, closing her eyes, "When a child refuses to do things a child should be doing and adults wish they were doing once again…"
She opened her now teary eyes which immediately grew wide, her breath suddenly forced and quick.
"Nate!" she cried, lunging off the bed and towards her son whom had frozen at the unexpected action. A loud BANG echoed throughout the property as the bullet shattered through the window and into the frantic mother who had pushed her son out of its path. Nate River flew back, the back of his head hitting the plain wall. He blinked rapidly several times, trying to figure out what had happened. His mother still stood in the middle of the room, the bullet lodged in her heart. She was gazing directly at him, blood beginning to trickle from her mouth.
"N..N…Na-ate." She managed to croak out before she fell forwards, landing with a muted thud on the carpeted floor. He rushed to her side after a few moments of shock and gently rolled her over. He frantically searched for a pulse but found none even after desperately checking each location several times.
"M-mother…" he choked, gazing into her unseeing gray eyes. Salty tears began to blur his vision for the very first time. Nate River's mother was dead, and Nate River was all alone.
...
Except for one problem.
He wasn't alone.
Far from it, actually.
...
Nate River was a genius, a prodigy, the child any parent would want. With his mother, he had thrived and was happy. Without the guidance, love, and protection from his mother, Nate River would've been ripped apart by the harshness of the real world, all wanting possession of the child. Near, however, was different. After the murder of Nate River's mother, Near had appeared. Whatever kindness that had existed in him vanished as he sat next to her body.
He was rushed away after the neighbors had called. Before he'd realized it, he was sitting in the back of an ambulance where a nurse was asking him useless questions that made him want to scream.
"Sweetie? Are you alright?" she asked, smiling gently down at him.
"I am perfectly alright." He asked, his calm voice hiding the turmoil within, "As you saw earlier, I believe it was my mother that needed the assistance, not I." The nurse bit her lip as her eyes filled up with tears.
"You don't have to be brave for me, sweetheart. It's alright." She said, smiling weakly at him. The smile unnerved him, almost making him visibly jerk away from the young woman. What was it? What could possibly make him feel this what? The thought struck him unaware.
The young woman had long blond hair placed in messy braid. Her eyes were the same sky blue. Her smile was exactly like the last one she had given him before she'd-
"Get out." He deadpanned, giving her his iciest glare. She blinked.
"W-what?" she stammered, unused to the hostility the mere four-year-old was giving off.
"You must be hard at hearing then. I shall graciously repeat what I have clearly asked you to do. Get. Out." He repeated, his voice cold.
"B-but I've got to check-" she clumsily stumbled over her words, making her sound as foolish as she currently appeared.
"Surely you aren't the only nurse in the area. There was a murder inside my own house; wouldn't it be easy to assume that they had trained medical professionals after hearing a gunshot?" he interrupted dryly. He looked away, refusing to look at her any longer, "Send a male." She gasped at his harshness but quickly left the vehicle, a male paramedic entering a few moments later. He looked as if he should've been retired, with short gray hair expertly combed back to keep the strands out of his face.
"Alright son, what seems to be the problem?" the old man asked, his voice soothingly soft to the small boy's nerves.
"My mother is dead and you're asking me what seems to be the problem?" Near (no longer Nate) asked sarcastically, though his tone was cold.
"Other than that," the man waved his hand dismissively, "We know your mother's dead, we know who your mother was, and we know who you are. I believe that you're smarter than I will ever be and I'd bet big bucks that you're the smartest kid 200 miles over. We could take you to any remaining family members you have. We could take you to the police station for questioning. We could take you to social services. We could just drop you off at the nearest orphanage. Somehow, I don't think you find any of these options appealing." Near gave a sharp, nearly imperceptible nod, surprising himself somewhat. He'd only been in the man's presence for less than three minutes and already he'd found himself holding his sharp tongue.
"So, I'll give you an option I think you'd like. I can call up an old friend of mine, very wealthy and well-known. He would happily take you in. He has his own line of orphanages, but usually stays at a special one meant for kids with big IQs. They compete there and get even smarter than anyone could ever imagine." The man said, smiling slightly, "I think you'd like to prove to others that you're smarter even though you're younger and smaller than them all. Society won't be able to touch and change you there. You get to prove you're the best of the best if you go there. What'dya say, son?"
Near stared deeply into the old man's eyes, trying to see the motive behind his offer.
Nothing.
The offer was tempting. A chance to compete?
…
Interesting.
Very interesting.
"Mr…" Near trailed off, digging for a name.
"Alexander. The name's Derek Alexander." Derek said, smiling down at the small boy.
"Well then, Mr. Alexander. I accept your offer."
(A/N): Oh wow. I started this writing like, five months ago, and I finish it now. Derp. Contrary to popular belief, I'm constantly either writing or reading. You've no idea how many stories I've started just to scrap it all. It actually rather irritating, because I actually like the stories I start, but I can't seem to keep them going. The ones I post are the ones I've finished and liked the most.
Woo! Any reviews? Favorites? Any of that jazz? This'll just be a side project, like basically everything else, so don't expect me to update this too often until I finish my main story Victims of Fate.