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∂єαтн ¢αη ѕєєм ѕσ υηƒαιя, вυт ωнαт ∂σ ωє кησω?

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With his hands nailed to the pole in the ground, the rain still poured. He tried to look up at the man who had just crushed both of his legs, but he was unable to see his father. His mother was lying unconscious by the side, beaten to death for trying to save him.

His small neck was gripped so hard, he had to literally gasp for air. He felt a warm drop of water land on his cheek, unsure about whether it was his tears or just the rain in his eyes. His life was very unfortunate. Being born in a poor family with a father who gambles endlessly. At that very time, he wanted to take his organs out to sell to the black market. Was the value of his life as little as the paper notes that are passed around from man to man and exchanged for things?

"There, there. Good child. Stay put and help your daddy for once."

Rea flinched to the feeling of the cold knife as it touched his pale skin. Panicked, Rea struggled as much as he could and whined similar to that of a dying puppy.

Rea, who could think of nothing else, decided to spit blood to his father's face- all in a measly attempt to distract him. It was washed down by the rain but the rage in the man boiled up and sent punch after punch towards the smaller body beneath.

"Hey," An unfamiliar voice shocked them. A blonde man covered with expensive clothing under an umbrella peeked over the shoulder of Rea's father. Surprised, he jumped off the boy. The beautiful man looked at Rea, the boy's pale skin painted with green, blue and purple.

"I don't know what happened here, but it is immature to beat someone way smaller than you, sir," The man said as he untied Rea and took the nail out of his bleeding hands, pressing hard on the running blood with a handkerchief. Rea glanced at the unconscious body of his mother and wept silently. The man gently patted his head repeating the phrase, "It's okay." Of course, it failed to calm Rea down. His mother had just died and there was nothing okay about it.

"You have a beautiful child. What's her name?" the man asked Rea's father. It was always like this. Rea, with his narrow shoulders, long legs and small body, almost always got called a girl; even at the age of 14.

"Mind your business, will ye'? This is a family matter," he retorted, pulling Rea by his hair and dragging him inside of their house. Rea gritted his teeth at the pain of his hair getting pulled from its roots. With tears flowing down and an expression of fear, Rea reached out his hand towards the man. Mouthing the word, 'please' over and over again, hoping that perhaps he would see and rescue him.

"Help me," he pleaded weakly, however, the man stood still, rummaging in his suitcase as if the scene in front of him was nothing. Rea knew, as soon as they went back in their house, he would be dead for sure. He had no legs to run, his voice strained to shout for help and his body was too weak to fight back.

Dear god, if you are truly there please help me, Rea thought. It was a cry from the heart of a boy whose life was dying out. The fire in his heart was dying and all Rea could do was pray. As usual, there would be no answer to his prayers, there certainly wasn't an answer to his mother's. His arms weakly fell down to his side, almost as if Rea was accepting the inevitability of his death. Might as well accept fate. The flame in him wavered as he had given up hope.

A loud shot echoed and the grip on his hair loosened. His small body fell and he looked back. Blood came gushing out of his father's head. Blood slowly pooled on the dirty tile and the monstrous man laid there stiff and still. He didn't move, but stayed in one place, quiet and with his eyes wide open.

"Oh dear, such a rude man, isn't he?" The blonde man quipped as he picked up the bloody handkerchief that he had used to staunch Rea's wound on his hands. The tap of his shoes against the wet ground came closer as he bent down and smiled at the little boy.

"Taurent, Taurent Brialle. What's your name?"

"Rea."

"A beautiful name, nice to meet you, Rea."

It was also the same name given by the man who tried to kill him. The name disgusted Rea more than his father ever could.

Taurent then examined Rea's wounds, realizing that Rea's legs were crushed and he was unable to get up and move. He was amazed how this meek small boy was able to survive the pain. He then got up and put his gun back into his suitcase, which he told Rea to carry. He then picked Rea up into his arms, making eye contact with the boy.

"Would you like to live with me, Rea? Leave everything behind and start a new life with me," Taurent said.

Rea looked around to the lifeless body of his father and to the cold figure of his mother. Even if he refused, he would be dead by tomorrow from loss of blood and infected wounds. Rea thought back at his one wish: to live happily with his mother. That could never happen

Rea's already tiny body became smaller as he curled in the arm of the man named Taurent. Gorgeous clothes, he must be rich. His mother didn't live to see the day, but he was sure his mother would be happy if he could at least eat proper food. Taurent smiled and walked away from the scene. The man whose smile never left his face became the man who gave him a chance to continue living. Rea who hoped for a happy life with his mother continued to be a wish, a wish that could not be realized.