Disclaimer- I do not own Kingdom Hearts (wish I owned riku ^^) but I do own Delia, Raine, and a few other of the chars you'll see in the story…Oh yea…and I also do not own disclaimers…^^

The small boy sat at the table, hands full of finger-paints. His jade eyes squinted in concentration as he smeared the paper with swirls of colors. He stuck his tongue of the side of his mouth as an artist does while working on a masterpiece. To someone older, the boy's creation was garbage, but to a three-year-old boy, it was a masterpiece.

            The boy sat back in his chair and studied his artwork. Once satisfied, he picked it up and ran over to his mother who was sitting in a chair, reading a book.

            As he ran, the colors leaked into each other. Some of the paint crawled toward the edge of the paper and leapt off, leaving the hardwood floor wet and colorful.

            "Look Mama!" he said, showing the paper to his mother.

            She tore her eyes off of her book and fixed her gaze onto her only son's picture. Any other adult would've sneered and thrown it away, calling it trash, but Delia was a mother, and mothers took pride in most everything her child does. " That is a very lovely picture Riku," she said, taking the picture from her son's grasp, "but…do mind the floor."

            Riku turned his head and looked at the mess he had made. Then he turned back and said, "Sorry Mama…Do you want me to clean it up for you?" His sincere voice and apologetic expression made Delia smile.

            "That would be very kind of you. And while you're doing that," she stood and walked behind a counter, into a kitchen, I'll hang your picture on the refrigerator. How does that sound?"

            Riku beamed at her and took the towel she handed him.

            As he worked, Riku hummed a song to himself. His mother cleaned up the paint and paper in the meanwhile. Riku stopped and curiously looked up at her. "Don't you want me to make you another one?"

            "Well, I was thinking we could do something else."

            "Like what?" he said, finishing his job. He went over to wash his hands while saying, "Did you want to read me a story?"

            Delia pursed her lips then sighed, to the confusion of her son. She finished putting away the paints and such and sat down in her chair. Delia patted her lap and Riku came to sit down on it. "Well," she said, stroking his silver hair (which only fell a little past his chin), "I was thinking that we could go outside and try to meet some people."

            At this, Riku's gaze wandered down to his feet, "They don't like me…"

            "Who doesn't?" Delia said, furrowing her brow.

            "Everybody," he said in a whisper. "They don't like me…cuz I'm differ'nt…"

            "Everyone is different," the mother said, trying to comfort the son.

            "But I'm real differ'nt…people are afraid of me…they don't like my eyes…my-my eyes aren't like and of theirs. I-I don't wanna be differ'nt no more." Soft tears slowly leaked down his face. He rubbed his eyes with his tiny fists, then buried his head into his mother's shirt.

            Delia just held the small boy in her arms while he cried. She comforted him…and then…

The footsteps came. The woman and her son picked up their head, their eyes full of fear.

            Delia stood up quickly and began to run up the stairs to her son's bedroom. Riku wrapped his minute arms even tighter around her neck. He buried his face under he chin – and cried.

            They were frightened – bother for themselves and for each other.

            Riku's mother opened the door to her precious child's room and shut it as they entered. Delia walked over to his undersized bed and sat Riku down on top of it.

            He looked up at her, eyes hell of tears. "Are you going to stay with me?"

            She smiled very weakly and stroked his hair. As she shook her head, she whispered, "I want you to hide under the bed…and don't come out until I come to get you. Don't come out no matter what…do you hear me? No matter what."

            Riku's lower lip trembled and he leapt into his mother's arms. After a quick embrace, she put him down. Riku crawled under the bed like his mother told him to and then turned around to face her.

            "And…try to get some sleep dear, it's getting late."

            Riku nodded, his tears splashing onto the floor, making tiny puddles where they fell.

            I'll be back for you in the morning…" she said, standing up.

            "Promise…" Riku's small, soft, and very weakened voice questioned her.

            Her only response before leaving was a weak smile and a small nod.

            Silent tears poured out of Riku's unique eyes that entire night. His thumb found its way into his mouth as he tried to fall asleep like his mother told him to.

            However the screams and cries from his mother and the sound of skin on skin…of wood on skin…kept him awake.

            Hours later Riku still hadn't found rest. But he had to sleep…it was what his mother wanted. Riku loved his mother…and seemed to be the only one who did.

            At last the small, troubled boy, filled with troubles that one his age shouldn't have, fell into a deep slumber.

            "Riku? Riku?" a distant voice called him.

            Riku opened his eyes and rubbed them as they were filled with the first light of the day. "M-mommy?" he said, crawling out from under the bed. "Mommy!" Riku cried as he got near her. He ran to her and wrapped his arms around her neck once more.

Although the child was holding her tight, he was careful not to touch her wounds.

            Then in a soft, gentle whisper into her ear he said, "I don't want Daddy to hurt you anymore."

Wasn't it sad? I hope you liked it… Oh yea and I wanna point out one thing…when Riku says "differ'nt" he means to say "different" but he's three and doesn't have the most proper of language skills…..   Please review…it would be much appreciated ^^