AN: This is probably going to be the longest chapter in the whole story, but I'm not sure yet.

A woman screamed in pain, spreading her legs wider as the nurse had directed. Push, push, push, she was told continuously, but it still caused unimaginable agony.

“You’re doing so well,” the midwife encouraged as she watched the head of dark hair escape the confines of the woman’s . She stepped in to make the new mother’s job easier; gently grabbing the head of the baby and easing it into the world.

The second the baby boy was officially delivered, the midwife was greatly concerned. Not a single sound was heard aside from the laboured panting of the woman- the baby was completely silent. But that wasn’t the only thing that worried her. It felt as if she was carrying nothing- as if the baby had no mass. She could feel the texture of the new human in her arms, but there was no weight.

She believed the baby had passed and there had been a miscarriage, but as soon as that thought entered her mind, the baby opened it’s mouth and let out a shriek before cries filled the air. Despite still being worried about the baby, she allowed the father to come into the room and cut the umbilical cord with a proud smile on his face.

The midwife let the couple have their moment of hugging and comforting as she washed the baby of blood and other things clinging to the skin before bundling him in a blanket and handing him to the mother. She was still greatly concerned about the weight of the child, but he seemed fine, so she let it be, taking her leave out of the room and letting the family have their moment.

The new mother held her baby in her arms, a tad worried about the lightness of her child, but chalked it up to her being tired. Her baby boy was still crying, cradled him, trying her best to sooth while coming up with a name.

“Chanyeol,” she breathed. The baby stopped crying almost instantly, “Park Chanyeol.” Slowly the eyes of the newly named baby fluttered open.

As the mother looked into the dark red eyes of her baby, a scream left her lips and she nearly chucked her child across the room, her husband catching him at the last moment.

“Mother, I’m hungry. May I have some warm milk and cookies?” An eleven-month old Chanyeol asked her mother as he waddled on his short legs into the kitchen.

His mother tightened her grip on the sink and clenched her jaw. Her child terrified her. At one month, Chanyeol had already spoken his first words (“Mom, food... please?”), at four months he was speaking full sentences and walking. Now at eleven months he already knew quantum physics and could speak like a college professor. Now she wasn’t an expert on children, but she was about one hundred percent positive that this was not how it was supposed to work.

She plastered on a fake smile and turned to face her abomination of a child. “Sure Chanyeol.” Said boy lifted his hands meaning he wanted to be carried, but his mother ignored him. She avoided lifting him at all costs- he still had no mass. It freaked her out the things that she noticed about her child. Aside from his rapid growth, he weighed no more than a feather and could lift her with no sweat. The first time he had attempted to run and he ended up on the other side of the yard in a split second. His mother nearly had a heart attack. Since then running was banned. Lifting anything was banned. And if she could, she would ban speaking.

Although Chanyeol’s father had saved him from death when he was born, that’s as far as the father instincts went. Where the mother was just severely uncomfortable with her child and didn’t want him around, his father wanted him dead. He was filled with regret from saving the child that first day. It would save them from this burden.

“Here,” Chanyeol’s mother said, handing him a cup of scalding hot milk hoping that he would burn himself.

“Thank you, Mother. I would get it myself, but I’m too short. Sorry to inconvenience you in the mean time.” He smiled brightly in her direction before waddling off. His mother felt tears coming to her eyes, Why couldn’t she have a normal child?

Chanyeol timidly exited his room; a place he had been confined to since the age of one. He understood the majority of things, but he never he wasn’t allowed outside. Although he would normally abide by the strict rules his parents had set, he had just woken up from his nap which was overcome by nightmares. And just like any child, he had gone seeking the comfort of his parents.

Tears were streaming down his face and he sniffled, trying to keep the snot from escaping his small nose. His favorite blanket was clutched in his tiny hand, dragging behind him on the floor, his kitty stuffed animal suffocating within the confines of his arm and chest.

“Mommy?” His little voice called out, wavering from the lump in his throat. “Daddy?” No one was answering to his pathetic calls so he shuffled to the end of the hallway, wiping halfheartedly at the tears on his face with his arm.

When he peaked out behind the wall, his heart still beating rapidly from his nightmare, he saw his parents lounging on the couch in lavish outfits. Thinking about nothing except for the comfort he was hoping to receive, he quickly waddled over to his parents, the first sob of terror making its way out of his throat.

As soon as his parents saw the crying child, their faces drained of color. “Chanyeol,” his mother began, faking a smile in the direction of her client who was watching the child with concern. “What are you doing out of your room?” She asked as she took in the ruffled appearance of her son- his hair mussed from sleep, tears and snot smeared on his face, his dirty blanket and kitten dragging behind him, and his clothes half on and badly stained.

Chanyeol started crying, his whole body shaking in fear, “I-I had a nightmare.” He lifted his arms in the direction of his mom, walking closer to be comforted.

She pulled away in fear, “Go back to your room. I’ll deal with you later. I’m busy right now.”

“It’s okay. You should help your child,” the unfamiliar man sitting with his parents cut in, sending a sympathetic smile to the crying boy.

The woman flashed a plastic smile in his direction. “Of course. If you’ll excuse me for a moment.” She walked over to her child, bending down so she could whisper in his ear without the client overhearing. “Now Chanyeol. We’re going to go back into your room and you’re going to stay there. I’ve told you countless times that you do not come out no matter what.”

Chanyeol’s eyes widened; he didn’t want to go back, that was where the demons were. As his mother’s hands wrapped around his waist in preparation of picking him up, he grabbed onto the arm of the couch in protest.

What he didn’t expect was to use his strength and for the couch to go sailing across the room and out the window, his father in tow.

The whole room froze. His mother screamed. Chanyeol cried harder. The guest blinked, mouth moving up and down as if trying to say something but no sound coming out.

Chanyeol’s father appeared out of the rubble, his face a mask of fury. “Get him out of here!” He yelled in anger. The child ran back to his room, hiding under the bed. He was still crying, now from fear of himself and what his father would do to him as soon as the guest left.

Quiet sobs could be heard from the living room hours after the guest had left and the dust had settled. The mother had been continuously wailing. She couldn’t handle it anymore. She was done.

Attempting to comfort his wife, the father felt anger seeping in the more sobs he heard from the love of his life. His eyes narrowed. “Don’t worry about a thing sweetheart. I’ll take care of it.”

She looked up at her husband with a watery smile and relief written on her face. Mother or not, there was one thing she’d been trying to ignore for the past three years; she hated her son.

Her husband stood up suddenly and headed towards the kitchen to grab a butcher’s knife. The weapon glinted in the light as it was pulled from its sheath. A wicked smile graced his lips as he slid his finger lightly on the blade, a thin trail of blood sliding down the shiny metal.

Walking slowly to his son’s room, he couldn’t quite contain his excitement- he had waited years for this. He would finally be rid of the demon. Hiding the blade behind his back, he slid the door to Chanyeol’s room open. “Chanyeol,” he called in a sickly sweet voice. “Come here. I want to show you something.”

Slowly he saw a small hand creep out from under the bed. This was followed by an arm, until finally half of the child was uncovered, looking up at his father timidly. The wicked smile freaked him out, but this was his father, he wouldn’t do anything to him, right?

The hand that wasn’t holding the deadly weapon reached out to Chanyeol and pulled him the rest of the way from under the bed. “Sit down, son.” He said, motioning to one of the small chairs within the room. Following his orders, Chanyeol sat down, still watching his father carefully. Something he didn’t expect was for his father to come towards him, for his father was never the most affectionate man.

It all made sense, however, when a large silver knife was pulled out and raised towards his head. He didn’t know what happened, but he screamed and everything was bright and hot. Smoke filled his lungs and he stopped screaming in favor of coughing, but when he looked up, his father was nowhere to be found. As he looked around his room he saw various things on fire and something that appeared to be blood and chunks of flesh scattered along the walls.

Chanyeol’s eyes widened in fear as he jumped off the chair. The fire was quickly growing, but he was frozen in place, staring at the pieces of human that was definitely his father. When he felt something searing his skin, he finally had the mind to run out of the room in search of his mom. The smoke was burning his lungs making it difficult to breathe, but he continued on. As he entered the living room, he nearly threw up at the sight of the same thing- guts strung out along the walls and furniture.

He didn’t know if he was the one who did this horrible thing, but regardless, his parents were dead. Even though they hadn’t been the best people- he was lucky if he was allowed to see them once a week- they were still his parents. They had given birth to him and given him a place to stay.

And now they were dead.

A hacking cough forced it’s way out of his lungs, simultaneously bringing him out of his thoughts and he knew he had to get out of the house. So he ran. Time seemed to stop as he bolted out the door and into the front yard. When he came to a stop, time had started again, and he looked up at his house, smoke curling out of open windows and flames up the side of the house. He once again screamed, too scared to act like the adult he knew he could be.

Out of nowhere someone picked him up, nearly chucking him with the force that wasn’t needed. Once the person got a good grip on the screaming and thrashing child, they dragged him away from the burning building as men in strange suits ran inside.

He was crying hysterically at this point, yes they may have been terrible parents, but he didn’t know anything better, and they were his parents. So many people were surrounding him, way more people than he’d ever seen in his life at a single point in time. Panic raced upon him, his mind playing tricks on him, making it seem as if the world was distorting and everything was suffocating. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. Everything was black.

When he came to, he was in a room he had never seen in his life. The walls were a beige color and all the furniture was rotting or splintering wood. He sat up, ignoring the intense pounding in his head, and hopped off the bed, intent on exploring.

“Oh, you’re up,” a voice said as the door was opened. In walked a woman in her fifties, she had a bright smile that was probably meant so Chanyeol wouldn’t freak out more than her being actually happy to see him. He blinked a couple times at her. “I’m so sorry about what you went through. This is going to be your new home from now on.” She said with a sickly sweet voice as if she was talking to a toddler. Well he was a toddler, but he certainly didn’t act like it.

“So I’m at an orphanage I presume. That would mean that my parents are dead, which I already knew, for I saw their remains back at my house. My only question is this; how long have I been out? I assume it’s been a while - that was quite the amount of smoke I inhaled, plus the panic attack I had afterwards. That can’t have been good for my lungs.” The lady looked about ready to pass out from the words spoken by the three year old.

“Uh, you’ve been unconscious for about a week, but the doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with your respiratory system, so no one was really sure why you weren’t waking up.” She said, completely dropping the child speech.

“I see.” Chanyeol said, nodding to himself. “May I request a tour of my current dwelling?”

“I-I’ll get someone to see to it.” The woman seemed perturbed, but she nodded once before backing out of the room.

Chanyeol breathed out a sigh of relief when the door closed. The pounding in his head was getting worse, and he could feel his legs struggling to keep him upwards. Stumbling over to the bed, he hoisted himself upwards, not really caring about how ungraceful he looked.

Truthfully he wasn’t that sad about his parents anymore. He reasons that blowing them and the house up was simply self defence, for his father was about to murder him in cold blood. What did he ever do besides exist? Sure he was a little different, but that doesn’t mean he should be alienated from the rest of the world and caged up like a bird. In a way, he could view this as an opportunity. Although he was now practically homeless and in the future he’ll be passed around from house to house with barely any regards for his feelings, but nonetheless, he was finally free from the place he used to call home. The place that he would be reprimanded if he stepped even a foot out of his confinement, also known as a room. A place that he was scared his father would hit him if he said something wrong, so he chose to say nothing at all. He was now free, even if this wouldn’t be considered freedom.

His life could now begin. And it would be hard, but it would be so, so worth it.