What's your name?" She asked in her soft innocent voice.

"Alex.. Alexander Smith." I answered looking at particularly nothing.

"Oh Hey Xander! Can I call you Xander?" She ducked her head to the side.

"No." I tried acting stern. As stern as a 10 year old could be.

"Of course I can call you Xander!" She giggled at my annoyed state.

"Go home lil one. Your mom must be waiting for you." I tried shooing her away. I tried not feeling hurt at the thought of my mom not even caring I had been away for so long.

"That's where I have run away from Xander. My mom's funeral." She tried acting brave. But I could see her heart breaking amongst the cloud of tears.

"And don't call me lil one. My mom said I am a big girl. I am 7 years old! You can call me Mia. My mom calls me Mia too!" She argued.

"You're still 3 years younger than me. So I can call you lil one." I said rieling her up.

"Common Xander. Cheer up! Why are you so sad?" She started poking my cheeks.

"Don't do that. And I am not sad. I am just disappointed. And don't touch me, you may get harmed." I said.

"Oh you can never harm me Xander!" She giggled. "And why are you disappointed?" She asked.

"Your mom and dad must love you a lot, right?" I asked. She nodded with a smile. "Mine don't. They don't love me. They never do." I said. "They say bad children don't get loved by people." I looked at the empty auditorium.

"How are you a bad child? Didn't you finish your milk?" She asked. "I did." I replied. "Didn't you help others when they were in need?" She asked. I paused before replying. "I did."

"Did you lie to them?" She asked. "No I didn't." I replied. "Then how are you a bad boy?" She asked. "I couldn't pass my maths exam. I couldn't win the 100 metre race. I couldn't draw a dinosaur properly. I couldn't remember the history dates. I couldn't distinguish between the types of rocks. I couldn't face my bullies. My teacher said she can't promote me to the next grade. My dad said I would bring shame to the Smith's name." I looked down.

Mia climbed down the stage and pushed my chin upwards with her tiny little fingers. "You could still stand strong. You could still finish your glass of milk. You could still love your family. You could still help the needy one. You still didn't lie to others." She said looking into my eyes. "I am proud of you Xander." She wrapped me in her tiny arms. "Mom would be proud of you too." She said.

Soon both of us broke into tears, crying our hearts out. I cried for not receiving the love I knew I deserved. She cried for loosing the love she didn't deseve to loose.

I woke up from the dream. I still remember Mia. I don't know where she is, what's she doing, how she must be living, all I knew was I could never forget her. I didn't fell in love with her like people might assume, but she motivated me enough to live my life the way I wanted. Not on my dad's norms.

I slipped on my fuzzy slippers and walked into the kitchen. Pouring water into a glass, I saw a silhouette on the couch. Walking closer, I saw Amayra sleeping peacefully on the couch. She didn't tremble. She didn't have nightmares. She certainly didn't feel like people were taunting her while she was sleeping. Like I did. She slept with a serene expression. She squinted her eyes when the curtains moved and moonlight disturbed her sleep. I closed the windows and pulled the curtains together. She looked peaceful now. Wearing my gloves, I got a blanket for her. Putting it on her, I brushed away her hair tendrils.

What am I doing?

Reality struck me. I took my hands back. But couldn't move back. I sat their looking at her facial features. She was pretty. Prettier than any woman I have ever seen. I get wierd feelings when I see her smiling, giggling, laughing, rambling, and any simple action that she performs. I love it when she calls me Xander. But I would never admit it out loud.

She certainly looked familiar. From the day I first saw her, when she stumbled and landed on the floor outside the mansion, I could feel something familiar. The way she giggles, the way she gets annoyed when I call her a child and the way she narrated her story. Everything seemed familiar.

Deciding not to be a creep anymore, I walked into my room. My darkness. My hell hole. I popped in a few tablets prescribed. And tried counting sheeps untill I slept.

The next day I woke up late. It was noon according to the watch nearby. Still being exhausted, I decided to sleep in some more. That's when Amayra barged into the room. She didn't even bother to knock.

"Rise and shine Xander." She chirped in with a tray of food and a flashlight in her hand. "Look at the sun shining like almighty. The birds chirping and singing like they are having a fucking concert. The dogs barking like I just stole their piece of meat. Nonetheless, it is a good day. Get up lazy head." She kept chirping.

As pleasant as she sounded, she couldn't touch anything in here. She might get infected. So I did what I am best in. Being an asshole.

"Who the fuck did you give permission to barge into my room?" I growled. "Didn't I already warn you about my room being off limits for you?!" I yelled at her. I could see her eyes brimming with tears. Oh No!

"I just wanted to bring you breakfast." She muttered but backed away and out of the room anyway. I heaved a sigh. The living and dining room were much more safer than my room. I touch things with my bare skin in here. Bacterias are all over the surfaces. A little mistake, and she would be down at a hospital in an isolated ward.

Getting up, I got ready for the day. I had a major task at hand. Pacifying a crying Amayra.

Walking out if the room, I saw her sitting on the couch and typing on her phone vigorously. May the person at the other end rest in peace.

"Amayra." I called out. She didn't reply. She just frowned at her phone.

"Amayra." I tried again. She ignored me again.

"Amy?" I called her again. She looked at me by the corner of her eyes. Atleast I have her attention now.

"I-I am sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you. It's just that you can't walk into my room and touch anything there. It's not safe for you." I said calmly. She didn't utter a single word.

"As if your room is polished with Arson." She huffed. I smiled at her childish attitude.

I took a deep breath embracing myself. She's my wife. She deserves to know. She might leave me after knowing the truth. But she deserves to protect herself.

"I was 6 when it started. I was good at everything untill then. I was good a drawing, good at singing, good at making friends, good at learning and good at meeting my parents' expectations. Dad used to teach me how to ride a bicycle. Mom used to read me stories. Ethan used to feel proud at introducing me as his sibling. Everything was good untill I reached my first grade. I started feeling suffocated among crowds. Random spots started occuring on my face and hands. My friends used to be scared. People found me disgusting. The spots faded away leaving scars and a broken confidence in me. I faced problems in grasping new things. My academic statistics were ruined. My schoolmates started mocking me for failing in subjects. I felt exhausted by just breathing. Let alone think about physical activities. I was good at nothing by the age of 10. My dad, my hero, started taunting me, punishing me and most of all, he felt ashamed of his little champ." I chuckled bitterly at the memories.

"I shared everything with Aunt Malisa. Her husband, Dr. John Roberts, ran a series of blood tests on me. I was diagnosed with

Molluscum Contagiosum.

Touching, sharing of clothes, towels, or anything that I might have touched would be a source of contamination. Since Aunt Malisa had been a temporary patient of the same, she was the only one I could come in direct contact with. I spent most of my time with her. I left London and moved into Manchester ever since I was 18." I continued.

"A year later, my case worsened, I was prohibited to anything involving UV rays. That included phones, computers, TVs and even sunlight. That's the reason I am confined to the darkness of my room." I looked down.

"This is the person you married Amayra. Practically an illiterate and an untouchable. I survive on Ethan's money. I can't even do a decent job if we were in any difficult financial situations. I can't even love you the way husbands are supposed to. I have nothing to give you Amayra." I cried out.

"That's the reason I am giving you a choice Amy. If you want to leave me, I'll happily let you go. I won't force you to stay here. Do as you wish Amy." I said and locked myself in the room. Hoping to find the house empty when I get out.

~~~