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ROCINHA
GAVIN
A six-year-old boy crept down the stairs and tip-toed toward the dining room where the lights were still on, the curly hair boy lean behind the door frame. His emerald eyes stare at his father, hunched over papers and a computer as he kept mumbling something incoherently over and over again. His hair fell down to his shoulders, unkempt and greasy, his arms were slim and there was a prominent hump on his back.
The boy stepped into the dining room, his small feet carried him closer to his father. "Dad, it's past bedtime."
The fragile man stopped scribbling on his notebook, he met his son's sleepy face as he stood beside him. "It's past your bedtime, little hawk. What are you doing up? Is it your arm hurting again?"
Green eyes darted down, the boy stares at his recently amputated left arm with a pained looked before masking his pain with a brave look. "I'm fine, I took my pills."
"Good boy." The man with a light scruff smiled, his blue eyes staring at his child with mad love. "Remember this is only temporary, your dad is going to fix you. I promise you that."
The little boy nodded. "I believe you dad."
THE SIXTEEN-YEAR-OLD GAVIN HERRERA STIRS AWAKE; HIS GREEN EYES STARE AT THE CEILING BEFORE GLANCING AT THE NIGHTSTAND WHERE THE ALARM CLOCK SAT. It read 2:30 AM, the shirtless teenager rubbed his eyes before sitting up, removing the blanket off his legs as he propped them over the edge of the single bed. Gavin pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing through his nose and exhaling through his mouth as he pulled himself together before walking over to his small closet. Pulling out a black hoodie and matching sweatpants, once he was dressed he put on his socks and black converse.
Two years had passed, Gavin Herrera's transcending into normal life was a slow and hard process. The boy had to find a way to act like a kid his age, Gavin was built to be a soldier, emotions and gossip weren't wired into his brain. The young boy had to learn had to be obedient, how to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders without breaking. Gavin Herrera had it hard since he was ten years old, he had no one and he was taught not to need anybody other than himself, he was his only friend and ally. So when Praga or Karma tried to be there for him when the nightmares would visit him at night or when the anxiety attacks would creep into him from the lack of blood, Gavin wouldn't allow it.
