"Bye, Oba-chan, Oji-san!" Allen ran down the street as he waved to his Grandparents.
"That's the boy, isn't it?" An older woman whispered on the side on the road as Allen passed.
"You mean the poor child that was the only survivor of that tragedy? The one 5 years ago?" A younger one whispered back, her eyes never leaving Allen's walking form.
"Yes! I don't understand why he isn't in one of those mental institutes. There's no way one can be sane after witnessing the things he did that day..." The older woman sighed in exasperation.
"But, don't you feel bad for him? They say that he can't remember anything that happened that day! He was so mentally scarred when he woke up he wouldn't talk or move for a whole year! The doctor's said that it would be a dangerous gamble to put him in a metal hospital, or institute, even though the inspectors wanted answers, they had pity on him and let him stay at a foster family instead. Eventually, they gave up on him, and the case!" The younger one gazed at Allen with sadness in her olive colored eyes.
"Well... At least he can have a semi-normal life. Or at least as normal a cursed, amnesic kid can have in this day-and-age." The older replied nonchalantly.
"You're horrible!" The younger was appalled at her friend's response, but couldn't help and smile and agree with her.
Allen pretended not to hear the woman's gossip, but it was hard not to notice the stares and hushed whispers he received whenever he left his house. They avoided him like the plague, and yet they were so fascinated with his past and his appearance.
His story is something authors, and the paparazzi, can't even dream up, but they're too afraid of him to come close.
They all know about him, they all talk about him, but no one would tell him what happened that day.
Allen would Google it, but nothing about him ever came up, at least not by name. All they mentioned was a miracle survivor: a seven-year-old boy with a burned hand, and a scar.
He would bring it up with his Grandparents, but they down right refused to go near the topic...
But, even though the gossip was bad, and the fact that complete strangers knew more about his past then he did bothered him to no end. It's the people who looked at him with pity, and sympathy, and yet they acted like all the others that really hurt Allen...
No one really cared. And just like with the police, the moment they got bored with him and his history, or when something better came along, they'd drop him, and then they wouldn't even remember his name when he passed by their house like he does ever morning.
The bitter, familiar, tears stung his eyes, but they didn't fall, instead, they dried up like all his feelings.
It was so much simpler to keep a worn mask, than a broken heart.
Allen got lost a couple of times, since no one was ever to help, he had to find it by himself, and by the time he finally saw the school building, he was border-lining on late.
Getting inside the gates, just as they closed, Allen was met face-to-face with a green haired man wearing a white beret, "You're Allen Walker?"
Allen nodded slowly, wondering why someone was talking to him if they knew who he was.
"Then, I want you to follow me." The man walked away without another indication of who he was.
Ignoring the whines and cries of the people who didn't make it before the gate closed, he followed the strange man before him into the even stranger school.
"I guess you're probably wondering who I am right?" The man asked over his shoulder as he led Allen further into the foreign surroundings.