he was young no more then fifth teen. yet he had seen so much and heard so many things. he sat in the dark,his red eyes shown in the moon light, as he sat in the corner nuresing his freash wounds. The person who gave them to him passed out in the other . His brother. His teacher. The only person he knew who cared for him. The only one who didn't leave, Like his mother who abandon them ten years ago, or his father who for unknown reasons lifted before he was born. the closet thing he ever had to a farther besides his brother was his step-father, who would beat them and their mother. and who caused him to muffle his crys as he slept. when he was younger he'd ask his brother why these thing's happened his brother just smack him across the face and yell 'becaues your a freak!' and he was right. normal people didn't have red eyes, like he did.
Slowly he got to his feet an found the stranth to walk. he walked out of the room and went to the street. their he spread his arms, a cool wind picked up, as it washed over his face, chest and body. The wind had always seemed to call him. but how could it? sometimes he wasn't even sure of his name. Years ago his name was Lucas Warren Micheals. now as he started running he knew a place where freaks fit it. A type of school, for kids like him. He didn't know where it was but he'd fine it one day. All he knew was two things one: he was a freak. And two: he couldn't take the abuse anymore. people called him Luke Damned for a reason. They said he was doomed to suffer. He swore on his mothers life he'd prove them wrong.
