Cuddy stood in her son's new room, painting the walls blue. She was totally oblivious to the upsetness of Sergei, who was now banned from fighting, as she had decided it was unhealthy and dangerous.
Mothers, Sergei thought angrily as he stared at the TV, watching the reporters rave on how he was out of the ring for good, Always out for the 'best' of their children...
A memory popped up into his head, the same one that haunted him every night when he closed his eyes.
"SERGEI!" A woman's voice screamed as the car door folded inward and decapitated her.
He gasped, still unused to this scene that had terrorized him for the past six and a half years. He narrowed his eyes, reliving the scene afterwards. The first night at the Moscow Home For Boys. The first thing that happened to him was getting dragged away from the scene by the police, him weeping over their bodies. Then the endless hours at the Social Office, the white car pulling up to him, the fate he was doomed to. The next three years were full of suffering. Nothing but endless screams in the night and tears and blood. Finally, the day Alexi saved him.
Do not fear them; For they do not understand whom you are destined to become, The brown haired man said as he got him a glass of hot chocolate at the local coffee shop, You are stronger than them, Sergei. They did not struggle as you did, they did not feel pain like you did, and they did not become stronger like you did.
The truth was, that Sergei was no better than those rich boys. At least for the first eight years of his life. Afterwards he had to stick up for himself.
Sergei didn't realize what had happened until he stared at the broken remote he held in his hand.
"Dem," He muttered in a terrible American accent. He barely knew how to say hello in English, but only knew swear words from the ring after fighting Americans and hearing their cries of pain.
He watched as the cracked plastic dug into his skin, crimson blood seeping through the broken remote. He shrugged; Nothing that bad. He'd faced worse the other night, and that was from a minor opponent. A concussion was no big deal, much less a television remote cutting his hand.
He set the cracked equipment on the table, and stood up. Walking over to the window, his phone rang. A familiar name was on the contact ID, so Sergei answered it immediately.
"Da?"
"Sergei, where are you?" His coach's voice said angrily.
"I've been put in home vith lady Lisa Cuddy." he said quickly, ferverently hoping that she didn't hear his escape plan.
"I'll be there in twenty minutes. Get your stuff together, there's a fight tonight."
"Yes, sir." He said quickly and flipped his phone shut as he heard footsteps coming down the hallway. He shoved the phone in his pocket and faced her.
"You room's done." She grinned.
He nodded in fake excitement, secretely shoving his Ring ID in his pocket. He followed her into the light blue room. It was okay- for a nine year old. There were trucks on the wall, and a poster of Mickey Mouse on the wall.
He grinned, surpressing the look of disgust. His room would be black with Black Veil Brides posters, not baby blue with Disney characters.
"I hope you like it," She said,
"I do," He lied,
She didn't know what else to say, so left him alone to go make dinner. His phone vibrated, and the text from his coach said, "coming down st b there soon gt rdy"
He slid it closed and opened the window. Landing swiftly on the grass, he hid in the bushes under the kitchen window until the black Rolls Royce parked four houses down. It was the signal. They always did that- to avoid paparazzi, news reporters, and in this case, "mothers".
He swiftly ran down and hopped in. He nodded to his English coach and they zoomed off towards the airport.
