Andrew

Allen's tiny legs tried their best to keep up with Lauren's longer ones but failed miserably as he stumbled at each step with one of his arms being pulled by his mother. She was muttering curses at another failed attempt at finding his father. The big streets of New York were lined with tall buildings so tall it hurt Allen's neck when he attempted to look up towards the peak of the buildings. In the moment of carelessness Allen looked around only to realise his mother had left him alone. Before he could panic he noticed her standing in front of a billboard, staring thoughtfully at it. He looked at the billboard and the confident figure of Tony Stark stared back at him. Lauren looked at the board and then at him a few times, nodded to herself and promptly took him home. Before she left again she took a bag of his DNA samples, he guessed she was going to try and get Tony Stark's DNA test with him but he really doubted it. Tony Stark didn't have any children before Morgan that is. He sighed. The headache was back.

Lauren returned by herself that night. In the morning she woke up quickly and sat next to the telephone, waiting excitedly. One day became two and two became three and soon a week passed. Lauren grew dimmer as the days went by and finally, she gave up. She stopped looking for Allen's father. She stopped trying to get favour from other men. Most importantly she stopped drinking. She got up and found herself a job at a local diner. They had lived like this for a few months. Allen would wait at home for her, reading the books he'd borrow from the library and Lauren would come home late with leftovers. Allen KNEW it wouldn't last. It was always like this. They'd have a moment of calm before something happens. So when Lauren came home sobbing much too early for her shift to be over Allen wasn't all that surprised. He tried consoling her. Awkwardly patting her back.

"It's ok Mother", he tried saying. She sobbed even louder. After moments of waiting, she finally looked up at him.

"I saw him today", she whispered. "Shawn, your- my ex-husband... He was with his secretary and they were... They had a baby with them". Her tears came back as she covered her face with her hand. "Allen... They were so happy. HE was so happy... As if we weren't anything to him".

Allen sat there numb.

"It's your fault", she began, she stood over him and her knuckles connected with his eye.

Pain erupted from his eye and he choked a sob.

Seeing her son like that Lauren froze.

"I'm sorry baby I didn't mean to", she cradled his head blowing at his now bruising eye. He flinched.

She paused then ushered him to bed, smiling weakly.

"Don't worry baby. I'll always be there for you... Together".

.

.

.

.

.

.

He dreamed of sunflower fields. Bright blue skies and smells of wet soil. He dreamed of 'Mama', she carried a fruit basket and smiled warmly at him. She moved closer to him. He started to make out her facial features. The curve of her mouth, the mole on her chin, her brown eyes. The kindness of her face made him feel so safe so loved. The clouds danced happily in the background only to turn a dark shade of grey. Mama's face changed to that of fear.

"Å̴̺̩͒͜ͅn̸̝͔̜̻̲̙̈́͋̀̋̈́͊̀́̃͌̃͆̀̿͘̕̚͝͝d̸̮̥̗̝̰̺̖͔́̈́͂̽̈́̈́̒̅r̷̨͙̻̯̣̝̫͖͙͙̥̝̺̗̜̅́̑̉͗͛́̊͗̆̈́̽͐̍͛̊̐͗̽̔͘͝ȇ̶̢̡̧̝̼͖̬̦͇͙̺͈̞̻͔̟̣̺͑͌̍̍́̄͌̎̿̈́̂̌͘w̷̥͓̬̫͒̓̓͆̉̇̚͝ ̸̡̡͖̬̯̩̘̳̹̖͈̻̩͑̅̔̽̍̓̎̔̾̽̕͠A̷̧̢̢͚̫̩͇̬̲̯̯̝̫̲͖̯̘̘̖̳͂͑͗͆̓̊͊̐͊͜N̶̢̨̢̮̹̭̖̲̪̥͓̲͓̊̐͊̈́̃͊́̀̌̈̃́̚̚͝D̶̛̦̳͚̣͚̎͗̔̐̅̓̃̍̍͘͝R̴̠̝̊̀͊͌̏̀͛͐̿̀̕͝E̸̢̗̯̯̙̦͇̠͛̏́̾̚̚͠͠Ẃ̵̨̤͍̻̤̦̗̯̥̞͍̺̼̮̣͔̯̈́͆͜ ̵̢̭̤̭̖̩̳͎̹̖̩͐͝A̴̡̢̨̨̛̟̺͍̯͖͓̦̯̦̝͚̣̦̣͉̖̫̔̎̅͜L̴̛̳̦͐̉̆̔͌̿̿̆̇͂̄̆͘̕̕L̷̨̢͙͔͓̳̰̳̜͙̙͖͒͑̈̑͆̀͐̚Ë̵̡̢͖͚̜̭̺͇̱̱͕̠̞͍͓̞͙́̀̔͆̀͜͝Ṋ̶̨̢̦̦̥̼̣̣̓̆̇̈́̊́̔́́̃͑̓̾̈́̕̕͝ ̸̛̗̐̑̍̐͊͊͂̆͊̔̔͑́͆̌̽̏͠W̴̡̢͇̮͈̺̼͐́̀́̔͑̔̆̎̋͗͑̏̾̾̈́̒̅͒̚Ä̸̢̼͚̰̥͚̪̘͍̱̦̻͇̬̻̖̖̺̭̙̠́͗̑͂̅̉͐͐̕͝͝K̶̨̩̤̖̩̭͍̝͖͕̼͎̫͐̎̎͋̈́͒̿͗̇͐͐̋̕̚͠E̸̝̠̰̠̳̙̓̓̀͐͌́͌̆͊̈́̈́͂̿̌̕͠ ̸̢̡̢̨̙̟̫̼̲̭̦̹̔Û̶͚͓͉̤̺̟̰͓̕ͅP̶̢̢̡̮͚͈̺̻͕͍̳̟͂̌̃̕ ̸̡̨͓̮̥̭̻̳̺̬͉̰̜̟̲͔̦̗̍́̓̌̄͒̈́͋͘͝͠ͅͅW̶̡̺͉̬͉̰͚̞̙̻̤̗̃͌̈́̆̓͑̃̄͐̋̂͗͗͌͗́͠Ą̴̢̤̘̺͔̬̯̪͇͙̤̬͔̺̗̖̇́͌͛̈́͆̅̆͊͌͋̂̈́̍̇͗̂͘͜Ķ̵̧̡̨̛̛̙͇̲͎́͌̀͂̿̌̇̑͐̆͊̍̽̐͘̚͠E̶̡̟̗͔͇̜͓̹̹̗̫̰̲̖͍̻͎̳͑͆͊̊̀̐̔̈́̉̈̄͒̉̾̕̚ ̴̧̙͍̺̩̝̬̣̓̿̽͆́̽͜͝Ǘ̴̢̧̡̢͈͙̮̩͉͎͎̭̜͕̱̜͓̘̣̈́̈́́͋̊͗͆̎͠ͅͅͅP̸̡͖̣̯̣̯̺̣̘̼͕̣͚͉̝̯͌̐̓̆͛̍̊̈̾̚͜"

W̸̹͔̔̉̑̐̎͒̋̊̂̈́͘͝A̷̛̛̫̬̤͕͌̇͌̓̈́͆̆͗̒̈́̄K̴̛͔͍̺͙̹̱̖̞̳͉͊̒̈̍́͑̾̈́̋̽̾̋̽̄͜E̵̢̛͈͈̺̺̞̳̘̔̿͒̋͛̃̕ ̸̡͖̈́̍̈̔̐̎̈́͛̌̋͜͠Ụ̴̢͉̜̲̬͍̠̬͍̩̋̈̀̉͑̉̉̈́̿̽̇̎̈́̕͜P̷̡̝̱̤͎̩̮̝̳̗̤͕͕̝͛̄͋̀͛̓͒̄̓̈͊̉̈́͠ ̷̪̟͍͈̌͂̐͂̔̅̊́͌̅͝W̸̧̢̛̟̰̹͔̘̲͍͙̮̟̩͙̩͙̎̓̈̌̏̍̉̊̽͂̓̀̂̋̀̚Ä̶̧̡͚̻͉͍͕̝̻̱̹͙̮͕͖͙̗́̽͑͌͑͒͝Ḳ̷̛͉̼̳̘̰̮̳́̇͌̚͠ͅḚ̵̥͕̞͖̦̥̘̼̭͚̜͆̓̍͋̅̇͋̃̀̉̍ͅ ̷̻̩̘͔̠̥̈́̿͑̓͜͜͜U̴̞͎̞͈̐̾̿̏̽̐̆̈́̂̌̋̚͘P̶̧̯̱̥͖͇̮̦͚̖͎̭̤̝̔́̀́̅̉̀̃͋̚͝ͅͅ ̴̡̦̩̠͕̩͙͓̘͍͙́͆̒̊̈́̈̍̒͆͝͠͠W̶̛̦̽͗̈͋͆̏̃́̾̏̿͛͂̀̚Ä̷̗̲͙͉͈̞̥̱́̓̄͂̄͛̀́̀͊̅Ḳ̴̢̧͗̊́̐̈È̵̝̗͔̙͔͗́̂̿̿̈́͊͋͠ ̸͔͙̠͖̖̫̣̉̏̋͗U̵͙̘̰̰̹͖̹̙̠̱̘̖̓͊̅̽͗̄͆̃̈́̍̊͝͝ͅP̴̧̛̘̠̫̭̪̳̙̼̯͔̬̈́̒͛͒̀̎͠ ̵̢̗͕͖͇̹̗̙̝̤̘̟̦̲͚̝̂̓̓̿͊̀̀̒̃̈̾̒̂͋͘͜͝W̶̥͔̟̻̱̱̜̮̃͛͛̋̋̓̚Ä̴̢̛͈̞̫͎̘̪̹̪̻́̇̈́̓̈̊͑̾̐̋̄͘K̵̲͎̩̦̿̚ͅĔ̵̦̯̦̠͉͙̣̓̒̄͂͘̚ ̷̨̰̤̗̟̣͙̭͙̙̜̗̱̍͂̽̅̍̓̀̽̅͊̕ͅÙ̵̢̡̡̡͚̝̤̤͕͍̤̬̉̿̒̉̿̎͝Ṗ̸̮͉̫̬̤̣́̔͠ ̶̤͖̱̞̲͎̘̮͉̼̄̂̃̆ͅW̴̯̝̱̄͑͂͂̔̑̌̓̈́̒̒̑͌̾̚͝Ą̷̛̖͖̮̪̅̊̽̐̏͆̋̋̄͗̑̚͘͝K̶̡̛̪̯̯̖̹̗̬̺̖̙̦̑̄̓͑͆̀̅̉̈́̈́Ȩ̵̝̟̣̬͊̀͂͗̕͜ ̸̡̢̧̛͕̜̜̜͖͇͔͈͖͎͖̪̹͈́̃̐̉̉͋̓̈́͂̆̊̎̊͛͐͠U̸͕̲͑̿̀͆̎̆̀̽̐͘P̷̧̨͚̓̃̄̋͗̈̑̿̽̏̿͂͌͘͝͠ ̸̨̺̥͚͕̫̍̓̋̇͜W̴͕̊̓̐̾̂́̿̋͒͗̊̌̓̕͝A̸̜͕͍̲̩̓͒̎̏̌͋K̴̢̧̨̟͇̦̬̱̞̔̾̀̓͗̉E̸͖͈̪͖̰͈͓̙̣̯̥̻͖͛͗̾̀̉̀͘͝ ̸̨̘̻̦̲̮̠̩̞̤̠͎̥̖̬͇̮͋̌̓͌́̅́͆́̌́̈͊̑͝U̵̝̹̯̭̻͙̫̘̭͍̤̯͎̺̱̾́̈́͜ͅP̷͓̝̖̪͑ ̷̢̡͙̟̗̙͙͙̜͓͍͕͎̮̲̞̆͛̄̅͋̏͗̈́̄̐̃͘̕͠͝͝W̶̡͚͈͍̫͔̼̞̫͛͐̉̈̓͆̊͐̊͑̅͝͝Å̶̳̟̱̙͖K̸̻̻̭̠̻̹̤̝̥̤̫̯̪̖͋̈̀̅̅̌̈́̑̊̾̈́̉͒̆̿̓̽Ȅ̷̫̘̗̻̖̜͉̙͍̩̩͍͇͈͖̻̋ ̵̧͚̮̰͎̤͈̗̗͇͎͇̝̭͉͚̏́́̍̑͂̈̎͊̂̊́̕̚͘͝͝Ǔ̴̹͓̳̣͔̣̞͛̾̃͊̒͝P̸̧̧̛͓̖̞͎͙͍̩͉͗̉̓͋͌̅͋͌̀ ̷̡̜͉͙͇̜̭͖̀W̴̗̦̱̦͑͛̾̓̅̓͂Ą̶͉͖̬̘̬̗̄̊͗̌́̅̈́̂̃̽̓̉̈̚͜͠K̷̡͎͕̹͚̺̱̥̄̐̎̄̅͒̉̊̓͗͋̀̔̂ͅE̷̢̠̣̱̤͚̬̳̓̈́̑͋͗͊̒̍͌͜ ̶̖̘̞̥͇̼̺̝̬̟̝̦̹͉̳̗̒ͅU̶͔̪̻͆͒͋̌̈́́̉P̸̨̨̲̰̜̻̗̼͕͖̋ ̵̇̇͛̿̇̈̓̇̈́̇͒̓́́̓̀͜͝W̵̛̲͇͍͑̉̋̉͊͒̆̎͛̃̇͘͠͝͠A̸̜̹͖͉̙̥̥͍̠͉͉̦͓͋̓K̸͚̦̦̪̱̬̰͖̥̗̹̺͔͋͑͑͗̋̆̊̂͊͘͜Ȩ̸̛̣͍̗̭͈̹́̾͐̍̎̔̋̽̊̓̈͘ ̷͈͈͈͓̼̼͗͐̈́͋̏͑̐͆͌̉̈́̒̚͝͠͠Ù̴̧͍̜̦̲̫͔̱̏̾̈́̾̽͌͌̂̎͜͝͝ͅP̸̧̢̛͎̟̲̩̮̬̗͎̐̇͌̈́̌̇͊̃͌́̌͋͗͛̏̚ ̵̪͆̏͑͂̄̊̑̾Ẅ̷͈̗͓̣͕͕̗̲͓͇̟̠͉̲́̽͊͜͜͜͝Ȁ̷̭̻̝̩̠̾͌̄̍̄͋̊́̍͛̍͝͝K̴͈͊̀́̈́Ḛ̷͇̬̜̔̃̌̋̈́̈́̈́̑̒͂̑͝ ̷̧̛̰̒̾̾͆̅̀̑̈̈̈͂͆̈́̐͒Ủ̶̧̲̞̤̬͈̙͍̳̋͂̓̈́͊̀̊͝͝ͅP̵̗̰̣̂̓̍̋͊̓̓͌́̈́̂͒͒͠͠͝ ̵̡͈̠̙̬̫̭͗̌̉͆̓̀̍̂̊W̷̧̡̜̱͕͕̺͎̙̋̈̔͒͐̐̿̌́̄̌͒̔̅͠Ā̷̛̙͍͙̦̟̦̬̰̥̱̠͔͐͌̆̓̔̉̓̽̀͑̏̎͘͠Ķ̵̧̤̖̯̖͚͈͙̖̤̳͚̽̾̑̓̚Ë̴̫̪͇͎͎̲́̏͐̀͊́͂͜͜ ̸̧̛̛̣̲̘̣͎̝̮̱͉̯̉Ų̸̧̱̹̫̱͙̰̤̫̘̫̂̎͒̾̀̽P̶̡̨͉̩̰̮͈̰͍̹͓̟͔̀̔̀̌̈̂̅ͅ ̷̧͔̩̰̮͍̺̬̠͚́̍͑͑̑̐̕W̵̧̡͉͍̗͇̦̩̲̫̫̣͚̲̳̐̄͂̎̎̒͑̽̀̓̄̇͜͝͝ͅÀ̴̛̩̳̱̭̇̑̇̂̏̂̀̅͋̃̂͘̚̚͘K̸̨̥̜̱̟͕̞̻̲͍̼͈̯̹̳̲̋͆̌̆̅̅̈́͒E̶̛̺͚̤̾͂̔̂͒̿̈́̆̚ͅ ̷̜̖̎̌̉̀̇̐̚ͅU̸͔͎͍̤̅P̵͔̯̮͑̊͐͊̍͘͜͝ͅ ̶̺̹͎̯͕̠̲̰̦̪̞͈̭̀̋͑̎̿̓̍̊̒͝Ẇ̴͇͈͈̳͑͌̀̽̒͝A̸̪̬͖̠̞̎̍̏K̷͖̯̘̰͙̽̀̾̐̔̅̿͒̓̿̚Ę̴̨̨͓̬̰̠̫̗͍͕̹͔̑̌͂́̀̆̌̊̓̈́̓͘͠ ̴̳̮͖͔̊̆̀̿͛͝U̸̧̠̱͗P̷̡̤͎͎͙̤̗̦͓̱̯͔̣̙̣̗̤͋̉̏̂̓͋͗̀͒̈́̾ ̵̡̧̡̪͚͍̻̗͍̻͖̻̪̺̯̎̇̋͌̌̇̀̓̕̕͘͝Ẃ̸͕̘̯͍̥͗̋͊͐̋͐͌́͑̕͝͝͝A̴̛̘͆̽͂͂͆͌͂̄̇K̸̘̹͂̓͘Ȅ̷̢̛͍̝̲̤̤̖̥͛̍̓̔̀̈́̎̓̆̈́̽̈́͘ ̵͍̤͈̼͑̀́̽̐̾͂̀̈̎̌̚͠͠Ú̸̧̖͓̥̯̜̀͊̇̆́͌̽̈͒ͅP̴̹͖͉̼͈̯̲̈́̓̏̍̍̒̀̄̐̚ͅͅ ̷̢͎̮̝̞̱̞͇͍̤͙̖̪̼̿̌̈͂͒̓̑̊̽͊̓́̕W̸̢̢̡̨̛̛̜̳̪̜̤̞̮͇̪̹̭̰̮̽͌̈́͐͌̋͑͌̀͒̉͘͝A̸̡͚̮͎̠̭͚̖͚̼̥̤͉̤̳͐̂͒̇̆̒̾̂͆͗̈́̀̚͝K̵̟͕̞̣̪̜̗̦̻̺̳͌͐̿̀̆͐̇̚Ę̴͍̦͎͚̰̞͔͎̠̝̼͈͔͓͗̂̍͐̐̍̽̉̓̋́͘͜͝ ̶̫̣̣̳̽͑Ũ̷̡̩͓̻̭̝̘͎͔̥̳͕̳̭̿̓̽̈́̉͗P̶͇̩̝̉͜͝ ̶̨̯̠̬͓̙̬͍̋̆̊͊͊́͆̐͠W̸̡̡̰̳͔̼̖̗͋̾A̵̧̧̗͙͕͇͓̫̺̞͇͓̞̬̯̐̌͑̒̄͆͒͘̕̕̕K̸̢̟̙̜̠̞̟̤̰̖͔̿̀̔̓̆͒̐̚͘ͅȨ̸̢̡̗̦͓̞͔̹̥͉̄͑̐̐̌̈̍͘̚ ̵̯̯̩̺͉̣̪̤͚̭͖͈̋͒́̿̊̔̀̊̉̽̕͝͝Ṳ̸͕̹̲͖̥̗̭̪̽͛́̆̀͝P̶͚͖̠̙̙̟̗͊̊̑̉̾̅͐̐̔̍̊̏͛͜͜͝͝ͅͅ ̷̹̰̣͔̞̠͗̓͌͠W̴̼̖̝̫̦̓̄̓̐́͛͘̕̕͠A̷̬̬̼̝̣͚͙̞̲̩̟̟͎̞̥̱̍̍̈̎͋̇͋̿͋́͌̿̈́̕̚ͅḰ̶̞̬̰̹͓̒͆̊̅̔́͋͐̓̐̍̿̕̕Ẻ̷̢̖̼͚̞̄͐̿̒́̽͑͠ ̷͓̺͕̫͍̣̹̣͖͒̾̃̈́̆͋͒̀͆͒͛̌̌͋̃͝Ủ̷͔̪͇̞̪̳̗̮͙̘͈͗̀̀̄͑̊̉͌͗̏́̊͘̚͜ͅP̴̘͊̅̇̈̀̎̄ ̶̛͍̯̭͈̮̯̘̰̏̎̑͘͠͠ͅẄ̴̡̢̛̤̼̻̗̺́A̵͚̩̠͖̱̭̻̫̭̹̺͒̌̔̀̈́̈́ͅK̶͎̹̭̦̈́̽̆̓͗̽̓̓́͐̿̕͠͝E̷̛͔̾̒̋̇͆͊̇̅̐̑͊ ̸̡̧̛͉̯͙͓͈͔̘̙͋́̐̀͋̏̈́̅͛̀̿͆̑͜͠U̴̦̲̠͓̹͎̗̬͕̜͓̗̤͙̳̔̌̔͛̚͝P̶̢̙͚̻̻̮̍̏͜ͅ ̸͚͚̗̟̲̹̮̀̋̌͂̍̏͐͆͐͂͌̿̑̓̃͛͜͠ͅ

"WAKE UP ALLEN"

"LIVE"

Images of the news popped into his head. A grim reporter announced the murder of a son followed by the suicide of the mother. Images crossed the screen, bloody walls, a rifle, torn books. The small oh so small body of a child was covered in a white cloth stained with red blood. Bold red words crossed the screen:

"Allen White, 6-year-old killed in a joint suicide"

Ḿ̵̧̡̟͎̭͓͈͒͐́̍́̏̀̏̈̆͆̃͆̓̏͋̓͝ȃ̸̡̯͎̯̗̻̠̩͕̗̱̤̮̮̟̼͔̜̪̞̩͈͉̺̘̿͛̉͛̽̐́̈̾̒̎̆̃̑̅̀͆̇̕͘͜s̵̨̧̨̨̛̩̙͍̭̬̖̯̥͍͙̱̩͇͉̠͙̥̤̤͙̗̫̜̐͋̓̇̀̒̆̿͗͒͘t̵̢̧̨̨̛̻̩̗̠̫̖̟͍̮̣̺̭̼̬̜͕̦͕͛́́̈́͜͜ë̷̟͉̹̰͚̤̙̼̿̅̿́̈̐̆́̈́̍͂̂́̌̃̆̐̀͊̓͜͠͝͠ŗ̸̨̹̱̱̣̖̰̘͕̥̬̳͙͊̂̍̈̍̀͊̓̀̈́̇̂͘ ̶̧̨̺̫̫̝͎̰̝̙̘̜̱͇͙̙̖̮̝̙̭̀̉͐i̴̬̼̮̙͈͈̤̫̅̓͂̓̈́̽̈̊̏̀̈́̉͂̃͘͘͠͝s̸̢̢̺̞̹̣̭̳̜͉̝̘̞̟̣̹̣̳̠̹̣̾̄͒͗͜͠ ̴̡̡̨͚̣̣̱̹̮̰̜̗̖̼̘̘̞̗̟̹͖̭̮̑ͅͅͅǎ̴̭̤̭͈͓̙̖̮̠͚̜͙̞̟͓̹͈̖͉͗͆̅́͐̏̚͜͠w̴̫̼̲͓͈̪̺̘͕͚̱͍͔̲͔͇͉͉̩̝̗̓͋͗̈͒̓͋͑̓͗͌̾̚͜͜͜͝͝͝a̸̧̧̛̰̱̠̹̺͉̱͚̫͇̰͌̿͌̃̌̈ǩ̷̨̨͉̺͓̺̭̟̥̬̱͚͕̘̭͓̙̣̝̦̒̆̎͐̾̇̏̀͂͒̿́̔̓̋͒͌̒̎͊̏̋̾̏͜͝͝͝e̷͇͚̯̣̰̭̳̹̺̦̥͚̩̼̬͍̮̟̞͎̣̍̈̈́͛̽̌̅̎̀̋̈́̃̂̒́̾̕͜͜͜͝͝͝͝ͅ

He gasped awake. Laurens body loomed over him with the barrel of a gun pointing at his head.

"Mo- mom", he gasped.

"Shh baby it'll be real quick, just close your eyes ok? I'll be with you real quick."

"I- I don't wanna die", he sobbed and Lauren paused.

The small voice in the back of his head SCREAMED. Warm energy poured all over him and his body moved unconsciously.

The next few moments happened too fast. Too unnaturally fast.

His body shoved the gun into Lauren in an attempt to gain distance and BANG! The head of his mother smashed open, and bits of blood and brain rained down onto his small form. Dying his small body red.

The fallen form of his mother laid there motionless. Blood poured out of her head covering the wooden floors.

NO NONNONONONOONONONONONOONOONONOO

Then a burst of green light.

.

.

.

.

.

Allen woke up again without Lauren's dead body over him. Instead, a green stone was floating in front of him. It made him feel warm like Mama. He unconsciously reached to it and held it. Searing pain erupted for his palm that somehow traveled to his head. White light covered his vision and he just knew.

The life of Andrew King flashed through his mind, Mama, Andrew's mama, loved her son dearly it made his gut twist in jealousy. Andrew grew up in a life surrounded with friends and family. He loved animals. He loved gaming and movies- The Marvel Cinematic Universe. This world that Allen was in was a work of fiction in Andrew's life. Andrew loved the series. Andrew loved and loved. Andrew was so kind. He gave his heart to anyone. Andrew was so gullible and innocent. So when 17-year-old Andrew King jumped into the roaring lake in a heavy thunderstorm to save his sister, he lost his life. So young. So much potential. He didn't have to save her. The universe seem to take pity on the boy and reincarnated him here. As Allen. But Allen isn't Andrew. But Andrew is Allen. Allen had his own sets of memories but he also has all of Andrew's memories. The life of Andrew was just a fleeting memory in Allen's mind. A mere guide. And Andrew did guide him in forms of whispers. Andrew saved Allen by pushing Lauren away.

Allen knew he would never hear Andrew again. His mind had adapted to the new sets of memories and didn't need Andrew anymore. With a final farewell to the small wisp of Andrew's memory. Allen woke up.