-Prologue : Maledictio-
Sage green eyes stared back dully from the mirror, the skin surrounding the beautiful irises a sickening array of yellows and blues. Gingerly, a thin finger poked at the bruised skin, an almost silent hiss leaving the teenager's lips. With a shaky breath, he gripped the cold porcelain of the bathroom sink. His eyes clenched shut as he tried to keep the tears at bay. He couldn't cry. He hasn't since he was a young child, and it wasn't going to change now. He has gotten use to the feel of his father's fist hitting his flesh years ago. He has grown accustomed to the feel of taut skin from bruised muscles in the morning after an evening of kicks to the ribs. Hands clenched the counter top. Why was he living like this? Why couldn't he just wake up one morning and be like, hey Mom, how was your day, oh and by the way, Dad's been hitting me since I was a toddler, so what are we having for dinner?
Glancing up, determined eyes glared back at him, taunting him to put his latest idea into reality. With a small nod to himself, he left the bathroom and to his bedroom. Quickly but quietly, he threw a week's worth of clothes into his backpack, a few personal items, and lastly, grabbed his acoustic guitar. With a heavy sigh, he cast one last glance at his room before turning his back on it. It was time to start anew.
"Chris?"
Piper Halliwell frowned when she didn't hear the usual mumbled reply from her youngest child, "Chris?"
Knocking gently on the door, Piper called her son once again. "Peanut, are you awake?"
Sighing, Piper twisted the brass doorknob and eased the door open, "Chris, peanut honey, time to wake- Oh God."
She held a shaky hand to her agape mouth at the sight of her son's bed. It was untouched, the sheets still taut from when she made it yesterday morning. Glancing around, she noticed that her son's guitar, his most prize procession was gone, along with a few other items. "Chris?" She gasped out, her tone choked by tears.
She sank to her knees. Her baby was gone.