Dgrayman Souls

First Blush

Allen locked the door to the bathroom. He could hear the snores of his adoptive father in his room. Today was his first day at a new school. He looked into the mirror. The harsh lighting on either side lite up the bruises from last night. Allen sighed. He was glad they a had dollar store that sold make up near by.
Opening the package, he took out the palest face powder he had been able to find. He was nearly as pale as a ghost. Pale skin, white hair and near purple colored eyes, a freak.

YouTube videos had taught him how to cover up the “love taps” his “father” left him when he was drunk. It had been years since the abuse had become physical. Allen was used to covering up his face.

Expertly he began to apply the powder. He covered up the scar his “father” had carved into his face the first time Allen had tried to hide the car keys. His eye on that side would never be the same. Not to mention the burned arm he had when he had dumped out the bottles of fine whiskey. His father had tried to boil him alive. Allen had been able to knock the large pot over. It had scolded his left arm.

Once the make-up was done, he went to finish off the look.  He liked wearing tank tops around the house. Less for dear old dad to destroy. Over the years he had been able to save money here and there to buy himself hoodies and button ups to cover the scars and lasting damage to his body.
Today he chose to where a light blue lone-sleeve button up over his black tank top, He left the top three buttons undone to show of the tank. It wasn’t low enough to reach the top of the scar. He wore tight black jeans and the only shoes he owned, black fake converse. He wore black motorcycle gloves to cover the burned hand. It would have to do.

He picked up his bag and carefully made his way to the door. They had only moved here last week, but years of living with his father had taught him survival skills. He mastered the art of finding any spots on the floor that made the tiniest noise. He knew how to open and close doors in order not to wake dad. Allen slipped out into the misty morning.

He was greatful the rain had stopped sometime during the night. He didn’t have a jacket. He walked the half mile to school. Allen liked being outside. It kept him away from his father. He loved the smell of rain, the brush of the wind in his hair. He even liked the sound of wet car tires on the road. He could hear a car coming now. Survival 101 kicked in. He moved away from the street. The splash from the puddle missed him by centimeters.

When the spray vanished, Allen’s heart leapt into his throat. The car had stopped. He ducked his head not looking directly at it. He didn’t want to get into a fight on his first day. He moved as far away from the street side of the side walk that he could. Hunching his shoulders, pressing his hip against the guardrail, he walked hurriedly past.

“Hey there, short stack.” A voice called out. Allen froze. Many voices sounded friendly, at first. Once the owner knew they had you where you couldn’t escape, the friendly ended. Allen didn’t turn. He waited. He knew there was a row of trees where the guardrail ended. The street was on his other side. That was out of the question, the car was much faster than he was.

There were houses not far down. He could possibly out run the driver if he veered off and followed the line of trees. He waited. He heard the door open, then slam shut. His shoulders flinched at the sound.

“Hey, kid, didn’t you hear me?” the boy walked up to him. Allen listened to his footsteps. They stopped just before the small hole where gravel had been used to fill it in. He looked back over his shoulders. Making sure he didn’t lift his eyes any higher than the boy’s knees.

“Sorry, didn’t see you.” He muttered. The boy laughed.

“See me! I was driving by. I was going to say that to you!” He chuckled again. “Look, I’m sorry if I splashed you. Normally no one walks along here to school. The last kids that did moved out about six months ago.” The boy shifted his feet, moving to the side closer to Allen.