The room was dark, the only light seeping in through a crack in the heavy curtains, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Alex woke up sweating, the dream of blue flames still vivid in his mind. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, trying to shake off the lingering unease.
He sat up slowly, running a hand through his tangled blue hair, still half-lost in the dream's grip. The old bed creaked beneath him, a reminder that he was still in the group home, far from the fire, far from whatever it was that haunted his nights. Why these flames? Why this fire, always blue, always consuming?
He stared into the darkness, the question unanswered, as it had been every night for as long as he could remember. The blue flames still lingered in the corners of his mind, but as Alex stared at the ceiling, another thought crept in, one that brought a different kind of pain. Today was his birthday. Fourteen years old. Another year gone by, another year alone.
No gifts would be waiting for him, no one would sing a song or bake a cake. Birthdays were just another day in the group home—another day to be reminded of how forgotten he was, how unwanted. He swallowed hard, pushing back the familiar sting of tears.
He had stopped hoping for surprises a long time ago. But still, every year, there was that tiny, foolish part of him that wished someone, somewhere, would remember. Would care.
'Happy birthday, Alex,' he muttered to himself, the words hollow in the empty room. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his feet touching the cold floor. It wasn't much, but it was a reminder that he was still here, still alive. He was fourteen now, and though the years had done nothing to fill the void inside him, he wasn't ready to give up.
This year would be different. It had to be. He would find his parents, or at least find out why they had left him. And if no one else in the world wanted him, he would find a way to matter—to make them see he wasn't just another forgotten child.
A shrill voice broke through the silence, pulling Alex from his thoughts. 'Breakfast and mail time!' one of the Rice Maids called from down the hall, her tone flat and routine. There was no warmth in it, no acknowledgment that today might be different for anyone.
Alex rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep, the dream still clinging to his mind like a shadow. He yawned, stretching his arms above his head before sliding off the bed, his feet touching the cold floorboards.
He glanced at his reflection in the cracked mirror, noting the same disheveled blue hair and bright eyes. 'Fourteen,' he muttered, but the words felt hollow.
He turned away from the mirror, the call of the Rice Maids echoing again. Today was just another day. But as he stepped toward the door, a flicker of blue flame from the dream flashed in his mind, making him pause. He shook his head, pushing the thought away. Whatever it was, it would have to wait. First, there was breakfast. And mail.
Alex pushed himself out of bed, his mind still reeling from the dream and the stark reminder of his birthday. He pulled on a simple shirt and trousers, the familiar routine offering a small comfort amidst the turmoil.
He reached for his journal, the leather cover worn from use. With a sigh, he opened it to a blank page, his pen poised above the paper. 'October ten,' he wrote slowly. 'Today I am 14 years old. Today...'
He paused, staring at the empty space. What was there to say? Another year had passed, but what had changed? His gaze drifted over the page, the words elusive, and he felt a pang of frustration. There was so much he wanted to express, yet the right words eluded him.
Finally, he set the pen down and closed the journal with a soft thud. The blank page remained a testament to his unspoken thoughts and dreams.
He walked over to the door, taking one last look around his small, cluttered room. There was nothing extraordinary about this place, nothing to suggest that today would be different from any other. With a final deep breath, he stepped out into the hallway, the sounds of the group home starting to come alive as the Rice Maids called for breakfast.
