Winding Road

The bell of a clock tolled over the air, the chime of metal ringing across the newly awakening sky.

Cool digits unfurled to lace around a blanket of white, speckles of moisture beading on soft flesh as the pallid fingertips were pulled forward into an affectionate embrace. A twist of the arm, and soon it was being swallowed, unable to be seen in the vast clouds surrounding the area. The fog rolled onward, pulling the dark foliage of the trees in to hide their roots, melting in with the sway of grass, chilled with the freezing mist. Not a moment later, was it tugging on the edges of faded blue jeans, clawing at the fabric as it climbed higher up the length of denim. Numb and transparent, much like the growing apathetic gloss to amethyst orbs.

The denim stepped back, a glint of metal piercing through the dense landscape as Damon tried to scramble backwards, his tiny fists raw and bleeding as they hovered over his face in an act of self-defense. Silver lashes folding downward to mask his fear as laughter rang in his ears. "...Just as I thought..." Leaves crunched all around him, and the black ankle boots Damon adorned on occasion drew to his shivering body in haste. Why was he so numb? Why did everyone hate him? He peeked out from beneath his lashes to trail his gaze over the twisted grins hidden beneath the fog, cerulean eyes, smoldering brown, children's laughter, "you're nothing but a freak."

“Damon, Damon?”

Salt poured into the bleeding wound, and one of the mist covered figures stepped forward, another glint of metal hitting the dawning rays of light. The pocket knife sitting proudly in seemingly innocent fingers, a misplaced angel. "What happened to your family? Damon? Did someone kill them?" The child flinched back in shock, steam rising in pools of pure shock. He reached out to coat his fingers in the softening soil of the earth, pushing downward as he made his way to his feet.

"Don’t talk about the—"

"Or did you kill them? Did you start the fire?" Pain, sharp and sickeningly familiar, slammed into Damon's right thigh as his teeth cut into his bottom lip to cut off any reaction his traitorous voice would give. A rock hurling itself away from the impact zone, before another kid, larger than him came to shove him down.

"You did, didn't you? That's why you're the only one who survived! You freak!" Crimson dyed blue, when a short blonde kid came up to slash at his kicking legs. Warmth trickling down his leg as the pain shot deeper. Glancing down at the sharp edge buried inside his skin, Damon shot out his hand to clasp over the one covering the handle of the knife. Nails ripping through the other's flesh.

"Get off me, Aiden!!" Damon hissed, before the blonde had time to open his mouth again, a pale fist was smacking hard into bone. A small body hitting the ground with an audible crash. That was all it took for the other two figures to run forward, two pairs of arms forcing their way around his thrashing frame. Surrounding the youth with their touch, the flesh long since cold and devoid of humanity.

The touch…reminded him of the black smoke that invaded his lungs on the night his parents died.

It also reminded him of the impossible images he had seen. Claw marks, sharp and animal-like. His mind had been foggy from his rasping lungs, but he could have sworn he had felt descended claws tip up his chin in horrifyingly slow motion as his lungs busted in his chest, begging him to run. Her long raven threads of hair draping over his body in a promise for the forsaken, his mouth had opened in a silent scream. That black hair… dripping red with the blood of his parents.

Why?

He knew it couldn’t have been real.

Monsters didn’t exist.

"How cute … I’ll spare you." A coy smile, before cherry blossom eyes rimmed with sadistic pleasure lowered, "You, who shall become the embodiment of sin."

Why are you doing this?

Shaking the memory from his head, throbbing and still sore from the blows yesterday, Damon struggled with all he had.

His elbow jutted to the side, limbs swinging in every direction as the grips on him grew tighter. "Get off me! Stop bullying me!!!"

With a palm cupping his bruised cheek, Aiden slowly rose to his feet, a sharp gleam in his ice blue globes as he spit some of the blood that had gathered on his tongue across the swaying grass. He watched mercilessly as the elder boy struggled against his friend’s combined strength, and stepped forward, revenge spreading the deep black of his soul even further.

"Who do you think you are?" He asked as Damon’s stone gaze clashed with his own.

“Someone who hates your guts!”

“Shut it! You’re the one who came and ruined everything! You scare off everyone that comes in!”

Damon didn’t reply.

Brows drawing inward, the young boy dropped to his knees and ripped the knife from the red pool it inhabited. The argent haired boy let out a hiss of pain and Aiden glanced upwards to share a look with his cousin; Mike, with a reluctant tension in his shoulders, merely watched as his derailed relative gave the signal. A nod of blonde hair, and the red-head was releasing his hold on the boy. Only to slam him back against the bark, his expression masked as the sound of the blade slicing into the air sounded below him.

Damon refused to make a sound. Staring straight ahead, past the fiery red locks of a fellow orphan, Damon's throat went dry when Aiden slashed his skin three more times. He could feel the blood run in rivulets down his leg, but his mind had already clouded over. Yet he kept his teeth clenched, refusing to utter a sound. After a moment, he heard Ashley speak and the knife drew to a stop.

“This is boring, hey, Aiden, let’s throw rocks at him instead!” Ashley suggested, a gleeful smile on her twisted face. 

"Think that'll make him squirm?" Aiden asked, looking him over.

"Yeah, and we can even use your cuts as target practice!"

"That'll definitley make him cry!" Aiden snickered, grabbing a rock much to Ashley's growing smile's pleasure. 

He hated it here.

Why didn’t James keep a better eye on the kids here, why didn’t anyone ever catch them hurting him? It had started small, the insults, his food disappearing. But then it had progressed. Shoving him into the bookshelves, “missing” and accidentally hitting him in the face with a ball, but it was always the worst after a visit from a potential new home. Aiden always blamed him for not getting adopted. Damon wasn’t sure when it had started, but eventually the pranks were no longer childish, his torn flesh a loud warning in his ears that one day, they might actually kill him.

He didn’t want to admit it, but it scared him.

Damon surveyed the trees standing at attention, looking past their large oak trunks as they watched him like armored soldiers. No matter how much he peered into the looming darkness brought on by the fast approaching blows littering his body-smaller and lighter than Aiden’s throws, no doubt Ashley’s-his alert irises couldn't detect a hint of life among the whisper of the wind, aside from those assaulting him. For a brief moment, he wondered if maybe they would kill him this time instead. Perhaps that was why he had left his room at five in the morning…maybe he wanted this to happen.

He didn’t want to be here anymore.

A stray leaf came up to brush against his cheek, and Damon's frown only deepened. Their voices became muted, their faces spotting black as Damon tried to hold back the moisture coating the corners of his eyes.

Two accusing lavender eyes pierced into Mike's and the latter felt his mouth go dry.

Another rock shot past his vision, narrowly missing his face.

With his senses screaming a warning in his ears like a blaring alarm, the male quickly reached for something, anything, that would get him out the situation that was quickly getting out of hand. His fingers brushed against the satisfying weight of a rock, rough and barely touching his fingertips, as the digits wiggled and reached for the object on impulse. All he had to do was throw it hard enough to get Mike to let go and he could run. Steady fingers brushed a welcomed kiss of stone.

He had it!

And then, nothing.

Silver white locks whipped to the side as a stone landed dead against his temple. There was a brief twitch before the lost forest was cradling an unconscious boy, Mike’s eyes wide as the battered body fell forward.

"Shit!" Adien cussed from between parted lips as he took a step back from the scene.

"D-did we kill him?"

Harsh blue met Ashley's astonished-fear riddled orbs. "Don't be stupid! He's just unconscious! We need to get back inside before James wakes up! He won’t say anything, he never does! So we gotta go, now!"

Not bothering to help the child they had just tortured, Ashley and Aiden quickly began to wipe the evidence of their deed on their clothes, before running with quick steps back towards the main building.

"Come on Mike, hurry up!"

The breeze shifted forward and a sorrow fell over the feeling of tension in Mike's shoulders. Dark hatred mingling with guilt ripped forward to coat the youth's senses, drowning him in a feeling of self-hatred. No one would have to know he was at fault, but he would always know. He, who always aided in this boy's abuse. And he… didn't even have a reason aside from wanting to be close to her.

"I...I’m so sorry." Mike whispered as soon as they were out of sight.

Then he silently wrapped his arms around the boy and as indiscreetly as he was able, and carried the boy back to his room. If anyone asked, it was to simply insure they wouldn't get caught.

But as he closed the door behind him and headed to his own room, each step…made him sick to his stomach.

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Tendrils of light, unrelenting and most certainly unwanted attacked Damon's eyes as his curtains were ripped open by a pair of demanding hands. Blinking at the harsh intrusion, a groan rippled from his parched throat in strained protest, nails digging into his legs as he propped himself into an incline with his elbows. For some reason, they felt bruised. A snake coiled over Damon’s heart, constricting as images suddenly played in his mind. Laughter, pain, the hatred…

"Damon! You need to get up or you'll miss breakfast!"

Turning his head to the side, the male had to stifle a sigh at the sight of Amelia standing in his room, her large brown eyes filled with concern as she began to nag him. Carefully pushing his body up further, hesitant fingers curled around the bed sheets that were damp with sweat. Was it all a dream…?

"Yeah, yeah. I know." He replied after a small cough grated at his throat. Swallowing, Damon had to hold back a flinch as Amelia’s small hand came down to rest on his shoulder. Raising his gaze to hers, he watched her lips pursed in thought. Her red blunt bangs framing those eyes he both loved and hated.

"Hey…Damon…?" She spoke his name in a questioning manner, and a silver brow rose in question. Her finger skittered down to the front of his shirt, and he watched her silently…the way her chest hitched when her hand ran over a certain spot on his shirt. Confusion swirled with a hint of anxiety. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, why?" A moth of confusion swept toward the light.

"You… you have blood on your shirt."

Ice prickled in his veins as shock stole his breath, a firm fist clamping down on his chest. Without removing his shocked irises from Amelia, he subtly reached beneath the covers, a spider of doubt being squashed the moment his fingers glided over…

A glance away, then a soft ruffle to red locks.

"It's nothing."

Sloth.

The boy pulled the covers over his head swiftly, and turned his back towards the girl, burying himself beneath the pile of blankets. Ignoring her sounds of confusion when he became a voluntary cotton ball. Soft tuffs of silver hair peeking out from the fort.

"I'll come down later. It’s probably from yesterday, my head got hit pretty badly, that’s all."

For a moment, there was no sound. Then he heard Amelia sigh out a simple okay and then the welcomed sound of his door closing echoed in his ears. When he was sure he was alone, Damon pulled back the covers, his hard gaze landing on his legs.

Dried blood caked his jeans, four long gruesome tears displayed mauled flesh as pink, bubbled flesh, met him with a grimace. His sheets, also infected by the red that had overtaken his pants.

A nightmare was too much to ask for, apparently.

Damon just sighed, pulling out a worn-down book, the pages crumpled at the edges. Pressing his fingers against the hardened cover, he tried to pretend…it didn't hurt.

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There was a soft crunching as two twin pairs of black dress shoes moved in a swift stride down bleak, surprisingly barren, streets. With the scent of a crisp autumn wind carrying seasonal spices and pumpkin along its fingertips, the taller of male of the duo silently trailed his gaze over the landscape presented to him. The winding path to the orphanage nothing short of taxing, Clay decided as the soles of his shoes glided over the concrete path. Gentle hums of a song in the distance played from the forest, slender digits pulling his messenger bag snug to his waist.

A clock ticked.

"So you're here to deliver something from your father to the chairman?" Drew inquired with a smile as they walked side by side towards the grand double doors, his attention caught between his own curiosities and the manga resting between his opened hands.

Not sparing his best friend a glance, the brunette continued onward until he was directly before the door. "Yes, it would seem James is a good friend of my father's."

Sparing his friend a tilt of the lips, while the cheery blonde continued to read his beloved manga, Clay raised his fist, knocking twice on the large oak frame. No sooner than when the knuckles laid a kiss upon the wood, did the door get pulled open. Five small fingers curled over the handle, and a girl that reached only to his chest stood awkwardly in the doorway. False light illuminated her blue sweater and long tresses as she greeted them with a timid smile. "Oh, can I help you?"

Finally putting down his manga, Drew peered down at the girl. Widened eyes before a blinding smile, "We're here for the Orphan Keeper, or as he goes by, the chairman.”

The little red head gave a surprised squeak before stepping aside for the two to enter. "Then please come in! He should be down in a minute! I heard he was expecting guests, you’re early!"

An amused chuckle escaped Clay, walking in behind his companion. Shoulders brushed and he watched as the cute girl gave him a soft smile, her cheeks bathed with pink as she tripped over her next words. "Oh um…" Child-like innocence, a butterfly that craved the light. Clay's lips tipped into his customary polite simper, his hand clasping around hers when she offered it, her face bright like a lamp.

"My name's Amelia Ford!" She introduced, his friend's enamored expression not missing his radar. The clock ticked again, and as he brushed away the lingering touch with a firm shake, he uttered his name in turn.

"Clay Ares, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. This is my friend, Drew. His parents were too lazy to name him Andrew." His words were met with a giggle.

And as Clay turned to direct the attention to his classmate, his body was suddenly lurching forward. Silver locks brushed past his vision, and a body was pushed against his, partially shoving him aside.

The clock stopped.

"Can you move?"

A shocked gasp pierced the stunned silence that had snaked around the forms in the foyer, an aggravated glower being shot across the silverette's face as Amelia suddenly rounded on him. Her finger being jutted in his face, "Damon, don't be rude!"

"He was in my way." Came the calm reply before nimble digits were flicking the girl's wrist away, and legs were pulled forward in a stride.

"Damon!"

The boy didn't cease his footsteps, and as he braced his hands across a coffee engraved door, the flower painted window leaving glows of red to spark over the unique silver locks, Clay's eyes were drawn into his every movement.

"Hey don't walk away!"

The door was pulled forth with the gentle caressing wind, plants peeking out from the small space, before the boy twisted his head just a tad and vanished behind the portal as it swung on its hinges.

Amelia visibly deflated. "Eh…" An awkward head scratch later, and she was turning to their guests, "I'm so sorry about him! That was Damon, my friend. He…you see…Damon has it pretty rough here so please don't hold it against him!"

"I see."

Clay continued to stare at the spot Damon occupied prior; before he had turned away…Clay had seen it. The slow limp burdening his movements, the flawless porcelain skin, speckled with dirt that dampened its beauty.

But what truly caught his attention was…

"Is he up for adoption, by any chance?"

Amelia blinked in shock, her lashes fluttering once then twice around her carmine spheres, then she was nodding her head eagerly. "Yeah... he's been here for a while!"

"I see." Came the same response as last time.

Drew, who had his deep emerald orbs on his friend, tipped the edges of his mouth down in concern, "Clay, is something wrong?"

"Nothing at all."

For the rest of the evening, Clay kept looking for sharp amethyst eyes. A color he had never seen in his entire life.