Prologue

"Please come out of there, hun."

"There's nothing to be afraid of."

"Nobody's going to hurt you."

No matter what was said, the small raven-haired boy refused to come out from under the desk where he was hiding. Instead, he drew his knees up protectively against his chest and buried his face in his arms.

None of the social services workers in the room could figure out what he was so afraid of. He had been doing fine, it seemed, until Officer Andrews, one of the resource officers who worked in the Social Services building with them, had come into the room. For some reason, this had scared the boy out of his mind.

"Listen," said a kindly older woman, "if you come out, I promise you'll be safe, all right?"

Slowly, warily, the boy nodded. He inched out from under the desk and stood up shakily.

"There." The woman smiled. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

The boy turned and looked around the room. When he saw Officer Andrews, who was standing in the back of the room, his eyes widened in fright and he dove back under the desk again.

"What's wrong?" asked one of the social workers. "What are you so afraid of?"

After a moment, the boy reached up and felt around the top of the desk until he found a pen and a notepad, which he dragged down to where he was.

One of the difficulties that the social workers had encountered with this boy was that he was mute. He would write on pieces of paper to communicate with them, since he didn't know sign language.

The boy scribbled something on the notepad and held it up to show the social workers:

I don't want to see him.

"Who?" asked a man.

The boy reached out an arm over the top of the desk and pointed in Andrews's general direction.

"Why don't you want to see him, hun?" asked the kindly social worker.

More frantic scribbling. When the raven-haired boy held up the notepad again, the message written on it was very weird:

I don't like what happens when the numbers run out.

"What does that mean?" asked one of the social workers.

The boy shook his head, and then buried his face in his arms again and dropped the notepad on the floor.

Officer Andrews, sensing that something was wrong, spoke up. "I'll…uh…go," he said uncomfortably. He needed a smoke anyway – sometimes working in this building could really give a guy a nasty headache…

Once he was outside, Andrews pulled a carton of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket and opened it.

Why was the kid inside so afraid of him? Andrews was sure he'd never met him. Maybe he was scared of cops?

The officer felt around in his pockets. Damn, he didn't have a lighter. He looked around. There was a convenience store across the street. He could probably get one from there.

As he waited for the signal to change, Andrews thought about the boy again. He was a strange one, indeed – especially his eyes. They were red. Well, not blood-red, but more of a coppery color.

Vaguely, absent-mindedly, Andrews saw the signal change to green. He stepped into the street.

Really, the eyes were just creepy.

Officer Darrell J. Andrews was so focused on his thoughts that he didn't see the bus coming towards him until it was too late.

The squeal of the vehicle's brakes, the sickening crunch, the woman on the sidewalk screaming – all of these made it through the second-floor window of the social services building. Into the ears of the raven-haired, copper-eyed boy still hiding under the desk.

Hugging his knees closer, Beyond Birthday shuddered.

The numbers never lied…

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

All right. This is just the prologue. I'll have the first real chapter up soon.

Beyond Birthday is such an awesome character. I'm going to have fun with this one.

Thanks to NoWaitAuthor for beta-ing.