Eyes locked on the ceiling, Simeon couldn't fall asleep. Sirens were ringing in the night, making his head spinning and his heart beating faster as the colors were thrown into the room. He could see the lights dancing on his skin, as he had risen his hand above his face. Red. Blue. Red.

Jack, Jack... Where had he heard that name before? Simeon closed his eyes, reaching for the memories, but he had been locked up for so long that all that had happened before was slowly fading away, muffled by a dull, baby blue cloud. The sirens were still running, red and blue, and the boy wondered whether some criminal was running on the loose or something. Red. Blue. Red. On the loose... Did he really deserved it? Was what he had done so bad that he deserved to be locked up in a room for the rest of his life? Red. Blue.

Red.

Red.

Red.

Simeon didn't understand what was happening to him. He felt like he was locked in a crazy elevator, happier than ever and then on the loose, falling fast and faster into a void he didn't know existed. A single tear slipped along his cheek. And at some point he fell asleep.

Jack had kept his promise. The next day at the exact same hour, he was standing under his window, baithing in the golden light of the late afternoon. For a second, Simeon thought it somehow beautiful, but then chased the idea away. Jack wasn't beautiful, he was dangerous, because he was the one to know his secret. And he's also the one to save you from getting insane, an annoying yet right voice whispered in his mind.

"So!", Jack shouted as he looked up to Simeon, who was leaning on the window ledge with an awkward smile. "How are you, Sim?"
"I'm alright", he mumbled.
"Sure?"
"Yeah."
"Okay", the teenager sighted. "Listen, Simeon, I need you to tell me everything. Like, everything. When did it start? And why?"

Simeon closed eyes, reaching for the memories to flood back to him.
"It started as I said, 3 years and 8 months before. I had ran away from home, because I was scared, and my parents had called the police and-"
"Why?"
"Sorry?"
"Simeon", Jack repeated slowly, "Why were you so scared you ran from home?"

There, the boy shivered, and his fingers softly ran upon his wrist at the memory. He swallowed thick, before finally answering:

"I... I had color stains on my skin. Purple, yellow, blue and grin... I always loved colors but you see, those stains -those stains weren't beautiful. They hurted. So I ran away from the stains." At some point he heard Jack gasp, but he didn't stop. The words had been inside for too long. He needed to tell someone.

"So my parents called the police and they found me. I hadn't run very far, actually. I had hidden in the woods, but it was scary at night, and I was scared of getting lost, so I had went back to the parc and that's where they found me. I told the policemen about the stains, I showed them, but my parents told them I was very clumsy and I had fallen down the stairs. And the policemen believed them so I had to go back home and my Dad was very angry, you see? He locked me in the room and said I would never get out."

Simeon looked down, and saw that Jack was staring shocked at him, a glimpse of anger sparkling in his eye. "But it's okay now", he added with a sad smile. "There aren't any stains on my skin anymore. Nothing hurts, it's safe in the room, it's safe. I swear to you, Jack. No one has touched me, for 3 years and 8 months."

He meant it happily, but the last sentence somehow tasted bitter as he said it. The sun was falling down; the sunset was soft and pink that night. Clouds like cotton candy were floating upon the town. "Jack, I think you need to go now.", he added sweetly.

"I will", the boy answered, his voice calm and clear. "I'll get going now. But I swear to you, I'll get you out of here. I promise."

And so he went again, and so Simeon closed his window, and so another day went by. The boy knew his friend was being dangerous. He knew they could get hurt. But there were no sirens nor lights that night, and Simeon quicly fell asleep, his thoughts diving in sun and hope and feelings flooding from the past. If only he hadn't been so deeply asleep, and if only he had had a mirror in front of him, the boy wouldn't have acknowledged the grin that had risen on his lips.