"I will do anything. If necessary, I wouldn’t even waste time thinking about who to save; myself or her. I will save her. I will make those who made her cry, shed tears of blood."

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Rain. It rained heavily….

I hate this kind of rain… it reminds me of the day when mom left us. It reminds me of the day when I figure out what was on dad’s head. I can’t sleep on a day like this…

Lifting up my blanket and setting it aside, I took a glance at the clock beside my bed. Still an hour to go to my usual waking up time. It’ll probably be useless if I go back to bed and try to doze off for another hour—I won’t even sleep for a minute in this kind of weather. I decided to leave bed and make myself a cup of coffee. If I can’t get another minute of sleep, better off prepare for a long day ahead anyway.

I left my bedroom and head to the first floor. A big second storey house—this is all that is left from my parents’ legacy. I sighed heavily while I turn on the lights heading towards the kitchen… rain, please stop pouring. I’ll skip another day of school if it keeps raining. I my coffee maker and walks towards the terrace; opening the slide glass door. However I disliked the rain, this kind of rain made the air seemed cold… the way I like it. I stepped out to the terrace to be welcomed by something I didn’t expect: a faint breathing sound.

I stopped moving for a second. Who would be—I mean, what would be breathing in my terrace? I was always home alone. Except for a house keeper that comes twice a week, I’m always alone in this house. I tried to slow my panicked breathing down for a bit, I want to figure out where do this sound came from. It sounds… heavy and ragged, and for some reason, tired… desperate… and scared, too. Something fell from the table on my side; it was probably my potted flower. I can hear its crashing sound as it hits the hard ceramic floor. It seems the breathing creature was nearby the table.

Slowly, as to not scare the creature and to calm my racing heart I turn my head towards my right, to look at my coffee table…. And I stopped breathing for a split second—it wasn’t a cat, a dog, or a small rodent I see, as I expect—it was a human. A boy about my age… he was crouching, curling his bone-skinny figure to a small ball to fit underneath my coffee table. His breathing was now filled with fear as he understood that I saw him.

However I notice he’s a human being, he is nowhere near ‘humane’. He wore a ragged, dirty looking knitted sweater which barely fit as a clothing item. Beneath its holes, I could see his pale-white skin... his scarred pale skin. There were red marks everywhere, in every hole I could lay eyes on. Alongside that, he wore a dark denim pants in the same condition; destroyed, dirty, full of holes.

His eyes widened in fear as I walked his direction, he seemed to be scared… I tried walking slower and crouching to match his height, yet he still pull backwards and backwards, until he kicked away my coffee table and ran to the nearest corner he could find, hugging himself to a small ball in both fear and cold.

However odd this is, I don’t see him as a trespasser. Instead, I feel sorry for him. He’s cold. He’s probably hungry, too. I could wrap up some bandage around his wounds, sterilize them a bit and maybe give him new clothes. He could use a bath and hot soup… I don’t mind. Then maybe, after a good talk on how he ended up here, that way, I could send him home. I’m sure he had a family who missed him.

I tried crawling closer and closer to him, using soothing tone and calming words as if treating a fearful child. He’s still curled up in that corner, but at least he doesn’t show anymore effort to run away from me.

“It’s okay, I won’t hurt you… see? You can see I have nothing I could use to hurt you…” I whispered softly as I crawl to him, showing a hand after another as I crawl closer. As right now I was only about half a meter away from him, I could also see his chapped lips, bleeding from his own tight biting. He was shivering, too. His body shaking thoroughly in the effort to kick away cold.

“hey…” I reached a hand out, now in a close proximity fearing he might hurt me instead. Stupid Aileen, why didn’t you even think of that probability? He’s a guy; however weak he may seem he could pounce on you and maybe kill you right on spot.

While my mind wanders and my hand just hang there in the midst of nowhere between my own ‘safe zone’ and his shoulder, I realize the strangest thing: he was moving towards me. In shaking fear, he reached a hand out to meet mine; our fingers barely touching mid air. His fingers are so cold; I gulped down my fears and decided to hold his hand slowly, while keeping an eye to his reaction.

His breathing raced for a bit, definitely in fear, but he tried to stay and let me hold his cold hand, clearly enjoying warmth from my fingers. I smiled as I look at him.

“See? I didn’t hurt you, right? It’s warm, right?” he looked at me in the strangest expression, as if he cannot understand my words. But he must’ve understood a smile, right? I stood up slowly, still holding his hand as if it was a fragile article I need to tend to. He looked up at me as I held his stand still, probably pondering over what to do.

“uhm, what is your name? I’m Aileen, but you can call me Ai. See, it’s easier to say. ‘Ai.’ What is your name?” his gaze wanders around in a wild way, making me wonder if he doesn’t have a name to tell me.

“It’s alright if you didn’t have a name. I’ll figure out something to call you after we get in, agree? Now, let’s stand up and we could have a big mug of nice hot chocolate, and maybe hot soup too if you’re hungry.” Now as I held his hand while he was still squatting and I am standing up, making his gaze looks even sorrier than before. He seemed afraid of everything, and now I question whether or not he has the ability to speak my language.

But this time, however I thought he does not understand my language, however his eyes wander in the weirdest way every time I speak to him, he stood up and followed me inside slowly. With his eyes still filled with fear, he looked around here and there inside my house after I close the door behind us. He seemed to like the warmth… and after a while, he refuses to let go of my hand.

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After a whole lot of cajoling, comforting words and a lot of sweet treats, I managed to get him seated in the dining seat. He refused to let go of my hand after a while—I suppose it was because he was scared. I did some tricks: offering him snacks, chips, and at last, chocolate bars and sweet treats. He seemed to be very hungry, yet he chose sweet treats as the one he liked most. I still can’t get a single word from him; he was probably still so scared that he can’t make up a single word.

After succeeding in getting him seated—well, more like distracted with all the sweet treats I offered right in front of him—I made two big mugs of hot chocolate, one for him and one for myself. As soon as he’s finished with his food, without me noticing, he hopped off the chair and sneak up my back to touch my shoulder softly, making me yell out loud in surprise. He seemed surprised too with my reaction and for some reason his gaze begin to shake as if in fear…

Not wanting to make him run away anymore, I hurriedly hold his hand in the same manner, the way he liked it just like before. He stopped shaking and looks at me in a way that made me remember a puppy’s sorry gaze. Not knowing what to do, I tiptoed and reach to pat his head in a comforting way, and he automatically crouch, looks like he likes it. The same way a puppy would lean in and nuzzle against your touch, he does, too.

I managed to get him seated again, and I hand him his mug. He held it in his hands, the hot mug, until they turn red and scalded…. Is it possible that he doesn’t know what to do, too? He looked at me in a gaze that asked for help, and I reach over to take his mug, setting it on the table. I told him that he should only hold the hot mug when it’s a little bit colder, and he looked at me in a painful expression; exchanging between looking at me and at his scalded palm. As I turn my back to get him another candy bar to comfort him, I looked back at him to get surprised a huge deal. He was his scalding palms, both of them, to get rid of the burning pain. It must’ve hurt a lot for him… and I felt sorry.

I grabbed a cold pack and sit next to him, offering him another candy bar and he hurriedly take it before struggling to open the wrapper and messily munch on the contain. As he’s distracted, I grabbed one of his hands and tend to the scald slowly, and he seemed to not care.

Now I know his weak point: soft touches, and sweet treats.