The boy's condition was unknown, many thought it was skitsofrenia, but it wasn't clear. He had had a head injury when he was young, and his brain was damaged. His eyesight had been also affected, but the pain was covered by pills, but when he was without pills, he would be uncovered, and often did things that would hurt, people.
Sarah's mother had called the police, and there were no charges, when she heard of his condition.
Sarah was different, she knew that by now. She knew what team would win a basketball game, without watching in, she could figure out advanced math problems, without studying a day in her life. She had used this, so called "power" to win at card games, and figure out why things were, they way they were. But she had somehow, knew that the man would come, she had known he wouldn't hurt her, but she didn't know that. All she knew was there was danger, and she told her brother. And it had happened. She didn't know about the "being" she didn't know it was here. And she didn't want to know.
The young man that had almost killed the young children, was called Nobel, his father's name. He had jumped off the roof of his garage when he was eight, and his mother never knew why. He had suffered a traumatic head injury, and he had frequent outbursts of abuse towards people. He wasn't going to school anymore. He would often climb up a tree in their backyard and stare into the nothing, the endless sky.
It was 3:30 pm. He found he was hungry, stumbling, he got to his feet, standing. And suddenly there was a pain, in his head. A sharp pain. His vision clouded over. Red. He clutched his head, dropping to the ground with a thud. Aroused by the sound, his mother came in to the room, and when she saw her son, she immediately thought the worst. After a few seconds, he stood, the pain almost gone. But not covered. Not swept under the rug by pills. He looked at her, with a sickening grin on his face. She was confused, but as he steeped toward her, she knew it was an outburst. She backed up slowly, as he reached at the table in the corner of his room, and grabbed the vase sitting on it. It had been a present, for his parents anniversary, it was mint green, but the gray light going in from his window made the vase look, cold and iced over. He brought the vase up, over his head, getting ready to throw it. His mother slid down the wall, in attempt to duck the vase, but at the very second, he began to realise what he was doing. His mother crouching in fear. Him, getting ready. He felt as if someone had punched him in the gut. He dropped the vase and ran out of his room. The vase shattered, spreading the pieces of green glass all over the hard wood floor.
He ran out of the house, and out into the field, hearing his mother calling his name from the house. He ignored her, heading as far as he could, he passed the home of little Sarah, the girl he was so close to killing. He passed the tree he had always climbed to look into the blue sky, that was now gray, and threatened rain. He ran until he was panting. He slowed, then let him self fall onto the dead grass.
After 15 minutes, he sat up, looking at the speck that was once his home. He looked ahead. A large warehouse, stood in the distance. It was visibly abandoned, with rust around every corner, and all the Windows were broken, and the doors were either weren't there, or hanging on by one hinge. He looked at it. It was sinister. A feeling crept into him. Curiosity. He stood, once again, looking back at his small house in the distance. He stood up and began walking toward it.
