"You're alone."
The whispers come in rapid succession. All anonymous, though familiar, one after the other.
"You've always been alone."
The same voice repeating things he's heard over the years. This is nothing new.
Blue eyes snap open in the darkness with a gasp.
"Mamá, mamá, no quiero más... (I don't want to anymore...)" A soft voice sounds beyond him. It's small and gentle like a child, but pained and wounded in a way that a child should not be. They are crying.
The room he's in, is empty. The far side of the bed he is in, is also empty. The covers tossed and ruffled like that of a rushed escape, he's not surprised. He's seen this sight far too many times already and like all the times before, his eyes are attracted to the soft line of light that peeks from the bottom of the bedroom door.
"Janeva..." An adult voice asks over the soft sobs, patient and giving, yet tired. Very tired, "Que pasa, cariño? ¿Por qué no estas durmiendo?(What is it, honey? Why are you not sleeping?)"
There is a pregnant pause, stifling and heavy. The blue eyed child tenses beneath his sheets, a tightness brewing within his chest at what he knows, is happening behind that door. His eyes slam close as the silence only lengthens and he envisions a chubby dark finger pointing to the door that he is concealed behind.
There is an exasperated sigh, "It's Alejandro, isn't it?" Another bout of silence, "You know he can't help it, cariño. Everyone has nightmares-"
"NO!" The sob that was once so soft before becomes hitched and desperate. He recoils as though he's been struck, blue eyes squeezing shut again as guilt takes a grasp on his heart, "¡No me importa, mamá, grita y se agita, habla con cosas que no están ahí, ve cosas que no están ahí, no es normal, mamá, ya no quiero dormir con él, yo ¡No quiero estar con él nunca más! (I don't care, mama! He screams and thrashes, he talks to things that aren't there, he sees things that are not there! He's not normal, mama! I don't want to sleep with him anymore; I don't want to be with him anymore!)"
It's the last straw. This has continued and has been repeated so many times, there is only so much a child can take before feeling- knowing that they don't belong and in the blue-eyed child's case, he's never belonged. Not once. Not one single time.
He rips the blankets off of himself and strides across the room, to open the door with Janeva mid-rant. When he does, her eyes find his and their breath hitch in a way that is uncanny. He looks away. His eyes instead, going to Mother Benita, the woman who has come to comfort the sobbing child. The woman, not his mother, but the mother of the orphanage looks at him with pity in her eyes and she frowns curiously at the sight of him.
"I'm leaving."
It is all he says. He's experienced this for far too long and he's tired, far too tired for a child his age and size. The woman tries to stop him, even going as far as to attempt to placate his needs but she fails. He slips away like a shadow in the dark of the night and it does not faze him. The world outside of the orphanage does not scare him and once again, he is alone.
Alone and unbothered.
Untouched.
The world sinks from beneath his feet.
The scene changes.
Lying sideways in a bed, he comes to. He's older and the first thing that strikes him is the feel of said bed, soft and comfortable. He groans as he shifts, smiling dreamily at the feel of sinking into it but then he freezes, arm stretching out to the side, fingers spread tentatively. Searching.
