And the darkness he called night

He never jumped, but there were times when he wished he had. He was too proud and too intelligent to not be affected by the poisonous words from the gangs in that small town. As a child, being vulnerable and sensitive, it all becomes so very real, and the slightest scratch on your skin feels like a thousand needles.

They seemed to be everywhere, all the time, from early morning till late at night. Just seeing them made his stomach ache, the very notion of what they could potentially do or say to hurt him. While their powers seemed limitless, he himself felt as if the world began and ended where they walked. There was simply no escaping those rock hard phantoms, and at nights he would dream about steel cages and rivers without water.

Waking up he always new it was just another day in paradise.