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ONE: BIRTHDAY WISHES

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Racism.

Racism is such a small word only consisting of six equally small letters that together form something that is so morally wrong, that some people consider it just. Something that is so inhumane, that people actually think that others deserve to be treated differently for being different from themselves.

Racism in its definition is prejudice, discrimination or antagonism by an individual, community, or institution against a person or people on the basis of their membership of a particular racial or ethnic group, typically one that is a minority or marginalized. Racism in its core is people thinking they are above someone else purely because the other differentiates in some sort of way to themselves. Racism in its core is wrong. Disgusting. And deserving of the hatred others get in its name; for being different, special. Racism in its core is the show of inequality where people don't have the guts to consider others as their equal.

No matter the reasonings behind someone's actions or words, racially motivated- and discriminative comments have their own way of reaching a person. They have a certain unmatched impact that, no matter how hard one tries, can not simply be made undone. They're like steadily flowing water being absorbed by the unstable and insecure sponge that we call the mind.

In the world of mutants, racism and discrimination couldn't be more of a common thing. Humans get shunned, relinquished and cast out from the masses for merely possessing something others don't. Now, you'd think people would have more common sense and decency than to neglect others solely for something as insignificant as a genetic mutation- or rather a malfunction as some would prefer to call it instead.

Just like many mutants Roman Hall is no stranger to hurtful words, scornful- and disgusted glances, and truthfully harmful actions being directed towards him and him alone.

If you would've told little six-year-old Roman that his family would one day cast him aside as nothing but trash, scum even, he wouldn't have believed you for even a millisecond. His family. His loving mother. His doting hardworking father who may drink one too many drinks, but still continues to be there for him every time he finds himself falling down, without single exception. How could those two wonderful beings- his heroes even- ever do something akin to casting him out? No. they would never do something that would even come close to committing such a sin; of committing such an act of vile repulsion and lost affection, Roman Hall was sure of it.

"Убирайся."
Get out.

Roman could only look up at his father with eyes filled with tears and cheeks dripping in traitorous deceit.

How did it come to this? How did his day- a day that was supposed to be filled with laughter, love and affection – turn into one plagued by trauma and hatred that would haunt him for countless years to come? As far as he knew it wasn't supposed to go this way. As far as he knew it wasn't typical for parents to cast their freshly turned six-year-old sons out and onto the streets, especially not when that day happened to be their son's birthday as well.

But he also knew it wasn't normal for a six-year-old to be able to move the sharpie stained "drawings" they had dyed the skin of their arm with. He still remembers how it went down. He'd been sitting at the kitchen table drawing his mother a drawing using the  various mediums a little boy could get his hands on. At first he had thought it was fun, that it was normal; that it'd be a good idea to cover up his entire limb with the ink, and watch as it seemed to soak up into the pores and crevices of the vessel he calls his body. At first he hadn't known that happily running up to his parents to show them the phenomenon wasn't a good idea either.

"Убирайся."
Get out.

Two insignificant simple words when disconnected, but two heartbreaking, dream-twisting and earth-shattering words when combined in a simple, short and upmost abrupt sentence.

With a trembling soul and a torn heart little six-year-old Midas could only do that what he had been asked and left behind the only place he had to call home, not even managing to grab any of his possessions to bring with him, leaving him with nothing besides the clothes on his back and the cold, worn shoes covering his feet.

Looking back at it now, Roman should've known he'd be different; that he'd somehow get the short end of the stick called life. Looking back he should've known to keep it a secret from the moment he noticed what he was able to do. But then again what child expects their parents to turn away from them and leave them helpless and alone in a time of need; a time filled with fear of the unknown and dread for the future to come.

What perhaps shocked him the most – besides the complete abandonment of course – was the absence of his parents's worry; the absence of them simply trying to understand his situation; to understand him.

And now? Now he was all alone, wandering the cold streets on an equally cold winter afternoon while carrying around a seemingly frozen chunk of ice that hid in the place where his heart had resided just that very morning

His body felt so cold, that it wouldn't have surprised if he were to see that his unstoppable unrelenting tears had become icicles while rolling down his red, swollen cheeks. They didn't. Instead they seemed to be playing the roles of actors auditioning for the part of an inexorable waterfall crashing down into the depths below. His knees felt weaker than the arguments his parents had used when he asked them why he had to leave, and his feet felt like he'd been hiking across the Grand Canyon barefoot for at least two days straight.

His toes felt frozen, the lack of proper footwear and socks causing him to be unprotected against the biting cold that surrounded him. His fingers felt like they were going to break of if he dared to stretch- or move them even an inch. And his heart, soul, and body all craved to be back at home again. To crawl under the covers of his freshly made bed, and to fall asleep, only to wake up and realize that this had all been some horrible, crazy, unrealistic nightmare. But the thought of returning to his warm once inviting home seemed even more unrealistic than his dreams of becoming an astronaut. Unreachable, unattainable, naive.

The streets. Those were his home now. No more family dinners, no more playing games with his mother or watching scary movies with his father.

Instead of his house he had to settle for an alleyway. Instead of his bed, he settled for a wall. Instead of his covers he settled for his clothes. And instead of his parents? He had to settle with nothing but anguish and loneliness.

And with that he was left all alone. Sobbing in the streets of a city that could care less about him or his story. A city that was filled to the brim with people to busy worrying about themselves to notice the small bundle of human fighting it's battle to survive. 

That's how a small boy - once one of innocence, happiness and glee – got dropped into the abyss of
realism way too soon. How a child got their childhood ripped away from them like a thief rips the necklace of a woman's neck, like how a murderer rips the life out of someone's existence. Eyes once filled with content, love and curiosity were now pools of never ending betrayal, confusion and morbid thoughts.

The city around him was lively, where he felt anything but. The lights surrounding him giving him the illusion of warmth, giving him the opportunity to imagine what it would be like to be sitting outside.

"...Happy birthday Roman"

𝗘 𝗦𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗞𝗦 !

Yes that chapter was short. Yes I know. Do I promise longer chapters in the future? No lmao. Sometimes I just can't think of anything else to add to a chapter and I feel the only thing to do at that point is end the chapter. That's why a lot of chapter probably won't be over 1.400 words, simply because I ran out of inspiration for that particular chapter. Once again I can't promise speedy updates, or frequent ones, because me updating all depends on my writers block and inspiration.

i KNOW there's typos in there so please kindly point them out so I can fix them!

This chapter was meh, but I hope someone enjoyed it at least!

Anyways I'm done writing the fiets five chapters (including this one) for the first act so I can at least post those! For the rest of the plot I will need to gather the time to watch daredevil for the 17172662th time. But that's a me issue, all I ask for is patience :)

Please don't forget to comment or vote! It makes my day :]

Have a nice rest of your day/evening/afternoon/morning!