1 Kaan/Blank

What does the sky look like?

Those endless skyscrapers, the monumental icons of this vertical, endless city, where did they end?

I asked myself the same questions every time I lied here. The narrowest of streets were also the broadest, squeezing was inevitable.

The structures we called our homes, or rather some familiar four walls that kept us inside with a slight feeling of security, or whatever illusion we had set into our minds, they soared high.

So high that there was no sky visible with the naked eye. Or maybe we were just caged in a cave, sealed off at the top so the less miserable or even the more fortunate could create their own new world, or home. Keeping this shithole and its terrible memory of history sealed off.

But nobody knew whats above.

Nobody seemed to care, not the old, not the teens, nor the kids that kept kicking the living shit out of me at that very moment.

I sometimes wondered about it, but thats all. Not that I could've gone up, anyways.

Being kicked in an alley was old news for me, as it was almost as frequent as having to sleep.

I didn't mind it anymore, I was used to the pain. Maybe this is odd coming from a 10 year old boy, but that's the way that life chose for me.

Defending myself? I tried that, didn't end well.

Telling on them? All that I got out of that was another hideous beating.

Why did they beat me? It was always the same:

"Your mother is a fucking whore!"

"You're a sorry excuse of a human being!"

"Do you even know your father? Your mom probably doesn't know either!"

Well, my daily ass-kicking always hurt. Not physically, but mentally. It was a sport for them. Because what they said was true.

My mother is indeed a prostitute, has been for as long as I can remember. Many nights she was gone, a few she brought a guy home, and as absurd and wrong as it felt, I knew her speaking patterns now by heart.

The walls were old and thin, after all.

Was my dad someone she brought home or she had visited? Not even she could tell exactly.

My biological father could be a father of the kids that bully me, as far as I know.

So what did I do all day long?

I took care of my little sister, Mara. In all the darkness that could be called my life, she was the only golden shining star that kept me going, not drowning in my own endless ocean of pain and sorrow.

I cooked for her, with what little we have, did some chores, and we spent most of our time together. She was the sweetest and best thing to happen to me.

We lived in a shabby one room apartment with a single, broken window.

I would've preferred it if there was no window at all. After all if you looked outside, barely 2 meters in front of it was another window, or rather a hole in a dirty, broken wall, with rust on every speck of metal in view. The things in there freaked me out, if I saw them.

You don't want to see them.

The kids that were beating me had finally left. I was full of blood once more, one eye closed because of how bruised it was, and tried collecting the few groceries that I bought at the market beforehand. At least the ones they didn't trample.

I didn't know their names, nor did I want to know them. There was no good coming from being able to associate those hideous faces to names, another reason I'd have to think about them.

With one last look into the dark and murky heights I set off on the way home.

Soon I was on one of the main allies again, squeezing through the masses where one looked just as bad and shabby as the other. No one spoke, no one rushed, there was no need to.

By the time I arrived at home, I was full of disgusting mud once more.

As soon as I walked in, after passing dozens of doors behind which there was either emptiness or miserableness, 13 stories up in a staircase with a broken railing and a musky smell, I finally stood in my familiar four walls, and my only source of happiness ran towards me. The 6 year old hugged me tightly, and I returned the hug.

"The meanies roughed you up worse than yesterday!" She said with a mad expression on her face.

"It's nothing." I told her with a forced smile.

"When I'm stronger and older, I will return the favor!" She said innocently.

"Sure you will." I replied with a hint of sarcasm.

"Wait and see." I loved how naive she was.

The more I thought about it, it became clearer that just as Mara is the thing that keeps me going, maybe beating me up was that of the other kids.

To each their own.

When mom came home I had almost finished cooking. She wasn't always home for dinner, as her "working" hours vary all the time, it was mostly based on when people called her up.

At dinner it was mostly us kids that talked, if we talked.

Mom didn't want to share her work experiences with us, and we didn't want to know.

Yet I still loved her dearly. She took care of us when she could, brought us toys when she could afford them, and taught us things that we should know.

I haven't forgotten any word she has ever told me, not since I could think.

Maybe thats what makes me special. I don't forget anything, I can't. As much as I want to, with some things.

There I go, jinxing myself.

"Darn! Where is the ring?" I exclaimed

Mara and mom looked at me the same time.

"Don't tell me-" Mom started. "Go and get it! Now!"

I got up from the table and ran towards the exit.

That ring was Mara's good luck charm, apparently from an old man on the street. He had given it to mom when she was walking through the narrow canyons of walls and metal.

Mara had given it to me so I would have luck with finding good ingredients for dinner. I had put it in my pocket. It must've fallen out when the kids had used me as their boxing bag.

As soon as I reached the streets, I got going in the same direction as I had come earlier. I hated running though crowds, as I was never much faster.

I kept crashing into people, stumbling, getting hurt from various obstacles, but I didn't stop until I had reached the place I got beat up on, earlier.

15 minutes later I finally arrived. This time there was no time to lie around and stare into the unknown. I started digging through the dimly lighted dirt and mud, desperately looking for the ring.

I didn't care how dirty I'd get, I had to get the ring.

I cursed at the shabby lights that hung above me, also the ones that still worked.

It's probably been centuries since their last maintenance, a wonder they still got some kind of electricity.

No time to worry about god damn electricity!

I cursed at myself.

It's been five minutes and I still hadn't found it.

Did the kids take it with them? That would be the worst of luck.

No, I doubt they found it.

I started looking through the old piles of trash that were on the sides of the buildings, along the walls of every concrete titan that soared high. I paid no heed to the humid, dusty air and the disgusting smell of waste that came with it.

Sweat was rolling down my face, falling into my eyes from time to time. I had to blink the entire time through, but I couldn't lose focus.

I know that if I was gone too long mom would grow worried get mad.

My hands dug though all kinds of things; old clothes, plastic, some metal scraps and rotten food. Various things kept sticking to my hands, god knows what, but no matter.

The few passerby's that crossed me looked at me with curiosity or a neglecting look. They could go fuck themselves.

When one of the passerby's had walked passed me, I heard a small clank as something grazed some metal on their shoe.

They didn't care, but my ears perked up. I turned towards him, the spot where he had walked by.

There it was.

I picked up the ring, cleaned it's now dirty exterior, and sighed in relief.

But no time to waste. I put the ring on my finger, and sprinted off into the masses once more.

I couldn't wait to tell Mara that I had found her ring, and maybe get an embrace from mom. You gotta live for the small things. An almost unnoticeable smile crept up on my face, something that hasn't happened in a while.

Time flew by as I rushed home. I didn't look around much, only focused on my way home.

Soon enough I was in my street.

Normally I would've had 3 minutes from here to our door, but that wasn't the case now.

There was a huge crowd building up the more and more I advanced through it. What happened? I can't remember anything like this happen since like, ever. And that means something.

The closer I got to the epicenter of the commotion, the more murmurs I heard, and the more concerned I grew.

No murmurs like this would go through the masses if anything good happened.

After pushing myself between dozens of legs and squeezing through small gaps between the people in this narrow passage I finally arrived at the front.

I had never seen anything like it was seeing then.

Three large, muscular men were blocking the way to my house, and behind them the alleyway was empty.

But that didn't shock me. It was their clothes.

I had never seen such clean clothes before. They where wearing a kind of black suit made out of an unknown, priceless looking fabric. All three men wore glasses which were pulsating with a weird blue light, and held weirdly shaped metal objects that made me feel unsafe.

Right next to me one of the bystanders had enough.

"Let me through, I live here!" She spoke loudly, with an angry undertone, as she tried pushing away one of the peculiarly dressed men.

The man reacted instantly; he grabbed her arm that had pushed him with his empty hand, threw it away from him so that the woman was now facing him, open and surprised, as she clearly had no more control over the situation. The bulky man pointed the weird object at her, now I could see that there was a hole after a kind of barrel, and as he pulled a kind of lever with his index, something with a speed I had never seen before shot out of the weapon with a deafeningly loud sound and instantly dug a hole through the woman's chest, large enough to fit my fist in it.

"Don't touch me, you disgusting rats." The man said as he returned to his original position.

As if nothing had happened.

I was terrified. It all happened so fast, too fast for me to process. The whole crowd was shocked, some running away, others too scared to move, and some just watched.

The message was clear.

Only after a few seconds I saw that not only that woman was dead, but three people behind her were caught in the line of fire too, now all lying on the dirty floor with terrible faces drawn upon them.

My legs began to shake, and I was sweating bullets. Something kept pressing in my stomach, an ill feeling, and I felt the urge to throw up. I had to breathe deeply and close my eyes a bit to recuperate some of my cool.

A few minutes later I was by far not ok, but I could think a bit clearer again. I realized that I was still standing right next to the corpse, which was by now releasing a unpleasant smell bound to get worse. I stepped away a few paces, now possible because some of the crowd had gone. But for the others, their curiosity overcame them.

I knew that I couldn't try to push through, or the same fate awaited me as the people that had lost their lives.

That image would be branded in my brain for as long as I would live, no doubt.

All I could do was wait for them to go.

But what were they here for?

I guessed I would find out in a while.

Maybe sooner than later. The same exact sound that had come with the shot earlier just penetrated my ears again. And again. And again. Three more shots were fired. This time they were a bit more muffled, as it came from our house, the sound obscured from traveling down so many stories. The men blocking the alley didn't flinch like the rest of the crowd did.

The unfamiliar sound was followed by a bunch of hurried steps, becoming louder and closer.

Suddenly one of the unfamiliar men pressed into their ear and spoke to no one:

"Understood. We'll have to hurry, boss doesn't want to wait." Then he turned to his colleagues. "They got the package. Prepare to leave. And fast."

The others nodded and got ready to depart.

Out of the doorway firstly stepped 2 more men equipped exactly like the ones blocking the path ahead, and then a third with someone over their shoulders. As they turned to the empty part of the alley, jogging away, I could see who was on the man's shoulder.

It was Mara.

No.

No no no.

Not her. Anyone but her. It took only a millisecond, and our eyes locked. Her eyes were filled with tears, red and panicking. She tried screaming for help, for me, but her muffle prevented it. I screamed out her name and started running after them.

Don't take away my Mara, anything but her.

Even though the kidnappers were only jogging, I could barely catch up with them. My eyes started getting teary, my breath growing harder by the second.

The men turned multiple corners, and I followed them. My endurance was faltering, but I couldn't. Soon enough it felt like we had been running for hours, but it should've only been a few minutes at most.

Our eyes were still locked, and every time the men took a corner the moment I lost eyesight my panic grew stronger.

It didn't seem like they noticed me, and if they did, they didn't care. What could a 10 year old do?

But I didn't think like that. I wanted Mara back, no matter what.

The few people we passed along the way didn't try to stop them, they didn't care. Why should they?

At one point it got more and more crowded, and we soon reached a large open area I had never been to before. The kidnappers pushed themselves through some bystanders facing something I couldn't see. A few paces behind them was I, and soon enough I managed to follow them through. The crowd was thick only for a short second, only for me to see a familiar sight. At least it seemed so in the first moments.

The same type of men were holding the crowd back in a circular shape, around something that seemed totally alien to me.

It was an enormous hunk of metal, large enough to fit two of our apartments inside. It stood on weird looking feet, and had some weirdly shaped wings with some kind of cylinder at the end.

Facing the direction I stood and came from, there was a huge hole in the back, connected to the floor by stairs.

On the side of the ship was a drawing, something painted on there. Two dragon heads sideways that formed a large "M" with their mouths open.

I was stuck at the front of the crowd, unable to pass by the kidnapper's group. One of the men was eyeing me as if he knew what I was trying to do. The hand with the weapon twitched, and I knew that the moment I'd try to pass him my brain would be replaced with a large hole.

Just when I could see that Mara was being put inside that monstrous construct, all the guarding men returned into the same thing by going up the stairs. I followed them closely until the last one was in the ship. Now or never, I thought, and started climbing up the stairs.

Either they didn't notice me following them or they didn't expect one of us to do so.

I was almost there. Maybe I could escape with Mara yet, but I would be with her. I didn't care what would happen to me as long as I was with her.

As I was halfway up the stairs, something moved. An unfamiliar sound filled my ears, a deep buzzing that seemed to come from the two cylinders on the wings. The object started to levitate, startling me, but not keeping me from going up further.

Then suddenly the stairs began to retract. I lost my balance, and when the stairs were gone I was hanging off the flying thing with one hand. One of the men noticed me and his expression turned sour.

"Fool" he said, and kicked my foot, making me fall down.

The 3 meter fall hurt me a lot, but what hurt me most was what just happened.

Mara was taken away from me, the only shining light that had been illuminating my darkness.

What would I do without her?

I was lying on the dirty floor, bruised up, and crying. I didn't care what the people thought of me, and they didn't care either. Soon enough they resumed their daily activities, as if nothing had happened. No one came and asked.

But something had happened, and I couldn't fathom it. In the minutes I had lied there I must've cried out her name dozens of time. All the memories I had of her came rushing through my mind, and I felt helpless regarding the barrage.

Who would I play with? Who would I talk to? Who would joke around with me?

Who could fill this blank?

Of course some of it could be mom, but she rarely is around.

Right! Mom! I had to tell her what had happened!

I got up, struggling to get on my feet, the weight of the situation pressing down hard. I tried convincing myself that mom could help in some way. It helped somewhat.

With tears still clinging to my face I accelerated on my given path, looking back a few times at that place I would curse for the rest of my life. Finding the way back home wasn't a problem, I had remembered it perfectly. What was a problem were my legs. They hurt like hell, making my movements sluggish and uncontrolled. I stumbled a few times.

It was astonishing how much people didn't care. I had reached the front of my house, with the people passing by, like on normal days.

Passing by corpses, what an abnormal day.

But in the end, so did I. I walked into the house, and started climbing the staircase.

Normally 13 floors wouldn't be a problem for me, but today they seemed endless. It was as if they never ended, and the walls kept closing in on me.

I was beginning to feel anxious. How could I tell mom what happened without her freaking out? That I had not been there when Mara was taken because of a stupid ring? Would I be able to face her?

Not long after I had reached the door to our humble apartment. I took a deep breath, and stepped in.

My mom was in the kitchen, on the floor.

Dead.