No one

The sounds of his parents arguing was so loud. Even if he hid underneath the sheets. Even if he shoved his face into the pillow. He felt as if someone had grabbed his chest and pushed it into his lungs as he held in his tears. 'I'm such a crybaby", he thought. Loud banging and shouting made him wince.

"I've told you numerous times that Allen is a child, you have to be there for him", his dad's loud voice shouted.

"Well, I'm sorry I thought our son was smart enough to realise his mother is busy and he should be a good obedient child and wait for her!"

"What are you even busy with?! I handle everything for this household"

"I've got a social life too you know"

"YOU MET WITH HIM AGAIN DIDN'T YOU?!"

"He's just my massage therapist"

"For your bedroom! You sl**"

"Shut up how dare you say that as if you are any better, how's Linda your 'secretary'"

"She and I have nothing going on, on the other hand, you-"

"Oh boo hoo, this was never about Allen. You just want to nitpick at my life and complain about my decisions"

"You're my wife, we have an image to uphold, what would the shareholders think"

Allen tries his best to mask the shouting. He made his way to his closet and sat underneath all his clothes. His hands covered his ears. But it didn't help him from listening to-

"IS ALLEN EVEN MY CHILD?"

He choked a sob. Images of a couple entered his mind. Kind brown eyes and inky black hair. They smiled at him and opened their arms inviting him into their embrace. 'My child', they whispered to him. 'You'll always be our child À̷̖͈͈̎̔͝ ̷̡̛̳̜͉͐͑͆ǹ̶͉͔̩̙"̷̝̝͇̳̈́͜d̸̬͒ę̸͉̗̝͛̓͒͋̚w̸̹̮̦͂͊'. The headache dyed his vision white. His senses numbed and he felt his body grow colder, shaking from the invisible frost. The door of his room slammed open and his father stormed to the little corner of the closet he was hiding in. Big hands closed into his tiny wrist and yanked him up.

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His spinning head barely registered what was happening and before he knew it he was in a big white room. A laboratory. He's seen it in books and had always wanted to visit one. He looked around at the large machines and foreign equipment. Finally, his vision reached his parents standing over a scientist.

"I WANT THE RESULTS NOW!" his father bellowed.

"I'm afraid sir, the results will come back within 1 day at most".

After more arguing the two finally reached an agreement and back home he went.

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T̷̹͑h̸̛̯̪̜̹́͂̉̀ǎ̶̹͈͊́̃͊n̶͕̈́̿͆̅͂k̸̗͍͖̈́̀̒̇̂̓ ̷̥̲͖̝̄̿̉̀͗y̶̟͋o̶̦͍̻͛̄̃̽̈́̕u̴̧͔̗̗̞̦͇͗ͅ ̶̦͉̭͕̫̙͍̽͑́̅̽B̴̯͛̋̆̓̕ủ̷͙̜̥̔d̸̫̫͖̝̘̖̖̥̉̍̏͝d̴̡̘̗̼͉̰͇͔̒h̷͇͉̠̥̖͈̉̾̑͝a̶͓̺̲͊̏̃ ̸̝̳͂̒͜f̶̥̱̹̥̞̙̝̕͜ò̸̧̫̫̤͚̆͒̈́̿͗͠͝r̸̢̼̮̳͈̮̩̃͗͌̽͝ͅ ̷̢̢͈͚̎̄̈́͝͠t̶̛͕̜͇͋͂̑́̌̏̚h̷̖̜̗̝̿ę̴̭̺̟̞̹̈́͂͋̋̀̈͋̕ ̵͙̪͖͎̬̓͆͑́̈̽͜͝b̸̻͔̩̯̻̩̓̏͠l̸͇̜̙̐̐̂̑̓͜͜ȩ̷͉̜͔̗͎̟̹̎̊̋̿͘s̵̡̫̜̣̉̆̆͆͛̋͐̈́s̷̨̨̺̦̭̝̪̈́ì̶̪̌͗͐͝͝n̸̨͕͕̰̍́́͝ḡ̴̡̣͖͉̙̯̱̂̚͝ ̵̦͛̋͝o̷̦̩̖̐̾̒f̵̪̈́̋̀̇͊͂ ̵͎̰̉̄̃̍́̓͑͝ö̶͇̣̥́̿͛̆̏u̸͉̳͚̳̅͗̎̄͠r̸̞͕̺͇͋̓̈́̏̚͜ ̸͈̍̈́͂͋͂͘b̷̢̢̹̪̹̬̮͛͌͊͒̂e̷̟͍̲̱͖̜͛̌̂̈́̑͘ͅͅȃ̸̻ǘ̵͔͛̈t̷͕͕̤̘̖̋̈̌̃͗ì̴͕̦̜̀̋̃̌̈́͘ͅf̸̢̧͍̥̣̖̺̓̽u̷̹̫̍l̷̛̤̥̥̝͕̂̇͂̌͜ ̸͕̹̩̫͓̈́c̶̨̛͇̫͇̠͎̬̓͗̔͂ͅh̶̯̟̯̥̳͖͈͋̀̑̿ṵ̷̳̞͓̭̝͐̇͒̽͗l̴̼̱̫̪̏̆̅̐̕͘d̴͓̞̀̅͌͑̆̍͘͝

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The next day felt slow and muddy. He was allowed to attend school but the initial joy had worned off and nothing was interesting to learn. He already knew the alphabet, knew how to read, knew the simple math equations, and heck he can solve quadratic equations if he wanted to. The only reason his day felt better than it was, was because of Miss Ganesh. She let him read his books when proved how neat his writing can be. She seemed to know whenever his thoughts went to the previous night as she sneaked a piece of candy into his small palm. She gave him head pats and encouraging words when he participated in class. She's his favourite teacher he thinks. The small voice seemed to disagree, but he's never met, Miss Green, and whoever she was Miss Ganesh can easily beat her.

The butler picked him up that evening. The car ride was silent and his fingers felt cold as it gripped onto sheets of paper. He had gotten perfect grades for the very first quiz. A big red 100 was written on the top right corner along with a smiley face and some big stickers that smelt like peppermint when he scratched at it. When the car reached the entrance of the house, Allen dashed down and into the front gate, keen to show off his grades. He waved the paper at his father who was sitting in the lounge chairs staring blankly at the wall. He wanted to give good news to his father. Just a little so that he'll smile at him again.

But when cold brown eyes looked at him, Allen felt the world turned a little greyer.

"Father?", he tried calling out. "Look, I-I got full marks".

Instead of a big smile and pat on the shoulder as he expected his father ripped the paper from his fingers and squashed the sheet into a ball.

"Don't call me that. You are no son of mine".

His stomach dropped. The familiar buzzing from his head was there. This time a man with brown hair was in his vision. His face blurry and his voice soft, 'Ḩ̵̢̛̖̲̱̦͚̬̝͇̜̱̘̬̱͕̪̙̬̐̃͛͋̋̐̃͌̀̓̀̿͘̚͘͝͝ɘ̴̧̢̞̦̟̻̫̩͚͉̮̥̪̝͍̤̩̤̔̋͋̓̈̈́̾̌͊͊̈͗̀̿̀̏̿̒͝͝͝γ̵̧̨̨̨̹̹̯͎̲̺͎̘̘̝͚̯̼̱͗́̂͛̒̈́̓̀̽̔̀̍̓͋͆̌̏̌̚͘,̸̧͖̲̠̝̝̙̪͖̩̱̹͕̞̲̜̼̹̾̊̓̇̎̏̉̈́͋̊̆̊̽̅̔̅̉̇͘͠ͅ ̶̻̤̻̹̞͚͎̻̠̣̟͎͕͖̤͙͖͚͂̿̍̊̆̀͂͑̓̈̽̀͒͋̒͋͋̀͠͠ͅǍ̵̧̧̡̡̛͙̰͚̯̘̥̲̹͎̫̬͍͉̐̉͑͂̏̏͊͒́̋̽̈́̍͆͂̈̕͝ͅl̵̡̨̟͉̗̲̹̯̦̪͔̙̩̗̬͍̭̺̀̈́̀͒͋̎̐̏̋͊̉̾̐̈́̆͘͘̚͝͝͝ļ̴̧̡̨̛̪̻̪̫̫͙̹͕̠͖͕͉̮͈̑͋̓̋̈́͐̒͌̉̑̃̇͒̕͘͜͝ͅɘ̵̛̹̘̩͇̘̻̯̲̪̟̪͇̙̼̖̪͕̗̼̺͆́̌̀̋̑́̌̀̽͐͂͛̋̉̕̕͝n̶̡̢̢̢̛͕͎̞̞̝̰̜͔̺̝̤̖̬̉̐̅͌̄̓͛̓͊̾̑͊̾̀̚̕͜͜͠,̶̛͙̮̼̟͚̭̺̫̮̪̮̰̫͚̠͎̞͍̭̎̃̾̉̔͌̆̐̈̌̓̓̾̅͂̐͜͜͠ ̶̧̢͔͇͖̻͍̫̼̘͎̞̻͎̦͇̙͕́̓̀̋́̆̃̐̐̏̔̑̃̍͐͒͒͘̚͝͠⅃̵̲̲̜͓͇̰̫͈͎͙͔̤̠̘̝̭̥̮̲̙̂̄̃͐́̉̏̎̇̔̏͂̈́̓͂̍͝͝ͅơ̵̧̼̙̟̺͈̥̻͉̖͕̣̟̣͔͖̘̘̮͗̽͋̌̔̋͌̊͒͂̾̓̀̇̕͘͘͝͝͝ǫ̶̨̥̘̰͈̹̺͇͎̫̻̘̩̝͖͖̘̏̅̅̋̊͂̏́͑̇̃̊̓̽̍̈͋͘͜͠͝͝ʞ̶̡̞̝͉͖̗̜͍͍̯͍̩̬̙͈̮̲̰̭͎͆̽͑̀͌̊̑̇͆͗́̿̒͐͗̈́̈̚͘ͅ.̸̧̜̬͖̙͍͎̣͓̻̜̞̗̤͓̙͙͍̳̱̋͑͂̐̃̈́̾͐̃̉͌͐͗͌̆̓͐͝͝͝ͅ ̴̢̢͖͔͈͕̟͔̺̖̙̝̞͍͚̦̙̤͐̅̄̔̎̀̉̍̌̅̓͒́͛͜͝͝͠͝͝Y̷̢̧͈͎̺̰̲͓͕̙̫̦̰̩̞͇̝̺͙̭̐̾̀̇̍̐͋̏̈́͌͒̅̊̽̕̕͠ͅo̵̼̦̭̖̟͎̬̮͕̟͉̰͎̺̱̭͓̜̱̞̙̎̎́̄̂͊̔̑̈́̈́̄̄̔̅͐̿̐̕υ̷̨̧̡̼̥̤͉̦̮͉͎̬͔͚̠͖̤̥͆͛̌̃͋́̇̈́̑͌̂͑̔̔͗̃͆͛̕͝͝'̷̨̲͈͚̼̫̠̞̬̼͔̼̘̬̯͖̗̐̿͛̀̾̏̋̾͂̓̋͊̀̇̔̽͐͆̕̕ͅͅɿ̴̨̛̛̫͙̬̞̞͚͎̥̥͖̪̳͚̟͖̔̌͊̌̄͛͑̄̎̽͆̾͑̚͜͜͝͝ͅɘ̶̡̥͎͓͙̻̖̮̫̯̩̣̱͖͓̬͇̰͇͛̿̌͑̈́̌̌̈̌̄̑̀́͊̏͛̾̏͘͘͠ͅ ̷̝̖̩̰̫͔͚̪͈̬̭̯̮̜̭̩̫͉̘̣̈́̊̆́̒̉͌̀̈̓͊́́͛̅̊̚͘͝ͅm̶̨̲̰̼̖̥̹̻̙̰͖͔̭͔̠̺̝̽̋̀͑̇͌̏͂͛̑̄̋̌̓͋͋̕̕͜͝͠͝ͅγ̵̢̨̢̧̛̭̰̟͍̩̞̰͍̦̮̬̹̗̼̥̐̋́̽̈́̂́̒̃͛͋̿͊̉̄́̂͊ ̸̡̨̛̩̳̼͚̙͙͚̳̮̤̳͇͓͇̬͌̽́̋̈̏͗̆͊͌̂́́͊͆̋̿͘͠ͅʞ̷̨̛̣͎̼̠̜͈̯̮͙͉̭̲͉̹̠̃͊̃̓̾̽̐̓́̌͑͆͗́̉̉̋̚̕͜i̵̡̛̛̥͓̮̯͎̱̭̫̞̹̜̟̫͓̭̝̻̬̺͂̀̃̒́̎͑̈́̍̐͐̄̒̂̽̕͝b̸̢̛̼̬̠̯̥̠͓̥̙̤̪̗͙͖̯͇̼̽́̃̀̈́̏́͌̈́̊̊̓̈́̓̅̽͌̅̚͠ ̵̡̨̧̲̝̹̟̯͓̩̱͎̗̼͇̘̹̬̫̝͕̑̑̉̈́̉̅̈́̂̓̿͗̓̊̍̆̍̇̌̄̕͠ņ̴̬̭̞̯̤̫̜̦̮̺̮̟͈̟̱͊͑̑̀̆̃̑̐͆̓͒̇͗̈́͋̕̚͝ͅơ̴̧̡̨̧̧̖͖̱̦͇͇̠̻̝̼̜̗̤̯̰̭͐́͋̿̋͌͊̀͗̌̈́̅̋̍͌̀͒ ̷̨̨̛̪̜̣̪̻̗̱͎͇̯̭̖̠̳̭̩̉̒̈́̀̈̔͐̊̋͐̾̆̋̿̀̄̕͝͝͝ͅͅm̷̧̨̡̛̫͙̝̯̣͙͚̰̜̫͔̹̫̬̐̀̉̽̏̐̈́͑̈́̂̆̑̽̓͆̿̿̚ͅɒ̴̼̟̬̜͉̩̣̙̠͎̭̰͎̞̰̭̟̲̘̫̀͋̇̈́͂͒̈́̄͆̀̋̿͊̉͐͘͘͝͝͝͝Ɉ̵̗̬̭͚̳͖̥͖͈̟̲͙̼̱̮̼̉̇̏̏̑̄̀͌͑͒̽̈́̓͗́́͐̔̕̕ͅɈ̸̡͍̲͚̠͚̣̺͖̟͍͓̗͉̜̖̦̣̪̱̿̑̓͌̂̌̽͑̐̔̆́̈́̀́́͗̚͜͝ɘ̸̼͓͇̥̰̣̣̱͙͎̤͉̙̪͔̯͊͗͋͆͗͊́̄͑̀̀̉̏͐͗͘͜͝͝ͅɿ̵̛̣͚̠̠̣̦̥͍̲̻̝̘̗͎̮̺̖̈́͂̂̇̾͂͌͒̒̐̎͗̈̔͂́̕͜͝͠ͅ ̸̧̡̢̧̨̱̮̲͚͔̪̘̠̳͈̥͙͙̿̊̆̌͋̈͛̽̑̿̒̓̃̽͂̔͠w̶̢̧̡̲̙͔͎̫͔̖̘̣̻͍̬͖̪͕̑̒͛͐̂́̆̄́̐͋͌͌̌̓̀͑͌͘ʜ̷̨̢̛̛̰̳̤̖̠̝͎̲̺̩͇̻͇͍̲̺̉̀̂͆̈́̽͑͋̐́̀͊̀̾̈́͆̕̚͝ͅͅɒ̵̧̧̛̰̻̠̝̜̫̰̣̝͙̜̘̲̖̩̖̖́͂̌̾̀̒͐̈́̾͗̆͂̓̀͗̑͛͜͠ͅɈ̸̧̨̨̦̣̟̫̻̲͉͎̞̙̗̬͉̖̮͇͙̒̀̏̔́̽̓̏̽̔̅̊̇̋̃̃̓͝͝ ̵̧̨̧̧̝̱̠̞̲̗̫͍̣͚̘͔̩͓̼͙̦͐̔͊̅͐̿̅͑̎͑͑͛͒̊́̈͛͊̈́͑̋ɒ̴̨̢̛̘̗̯̦̤͇̥̭̤͇͙̲̻̻̖͍͎̀͋̎͒̆̈́͒̒̌́̂̎̕̚͜͜͝͝n̸̨̨̲͖̼̱̗̫͇̤̦̗͎̗̠̪̪̰͎̥̫̒͌̈́̽̄͗̂̍̈́̉̈́̏̓̈́̆͝͝͝b̵̡̛̲̘͚̗̲̭̟̯̰̟̰̬͎̮̮̲͓̮̳͑̃̒̂͑̋͐̈́̂͗̓̍͂̾̊̑̐̚͜͝ ̵͔͖̠̹̞̩̫̰͈̭͉̻̗̤̣̥̗́̑͗͛͆͛͑͑̃̅̅̅̑̂̀͊̉̈́̚ͅI̵͕͇̫̗̞̼̰͍̝͍͈̜̠͕̘̫̯͍̅̿͒̔̓͋́͂̽̎̊̈̐͌́͛͘̚ ̵̧̤͕̪̤̟̬̪̜̦̠̘̦̭̬͚̲͌͆́̀̓̐̓̒̒̉͌̂͊͗̿͂̚̚͝w̷̨̢̧̧̧̡͈͙͉͇̝͕͕͖̤̹̥̫̝͛̇͆̓̎͒̀̀̀͐̽̈́̀̿̽̊̐̅͝͝͝i̸̡̢̮̳͇͔͙͎̞̱͚̥̼̥͓̞̣̱͚̭̇̊̑͆́́͛̉̐͛̊̍̔̄̔͗̍͝ͅļ̵̹͎̝̫̼̣̲̦̟̦̮̞̲̩̝̜̘̲̽̐̃̍̽̇̇̇͌͆̿̾͗̅̇̈́̋̾͒͘͜ļ̷̻̲͎͓̖̘̲͉̲͇̲̝̰̪͚̬̭̬͒͑̏̋̾̍̄̐̈́͌̾͒̐͐͊͌͑͘͝͠ ̶̧̨̣̼̺̗͎̲̠͓̟̗̯̞̟͈̬̫͚̭̄͑̾͆͂̿̑͑̈́̔̈́̔̌͂̋̕͠͠ͅd̶̨̡̡͖̳͙̫͚͖̳̥̠͍̥̲͓͔̹̮̩̽̓̇̒͗͑̀̓̀̽͑̈́̓̀̔̇͝͝ɘ̶̧̡̛̗̯̯̘̪̗̜̳̲̦̣̮̼̜̮̜̲̏̎͗́͗̇̉́̿̏͊̂͋̄̎̀͘̚͝͝ ̴̡̨̛̛̳̭̜̻̝̮͔̯̫̩̟̣͕̣̱̌́̅̉̽̑̾͌̂̈́̀̉̀̃͜͠͠͠Ɉ̸̞̠͉̹̦͇͍̤̠̰̞̰̝͙̠̬͉̂̑̑͐̐͒̑̉̐̊͑̒̀̊̓́͝͠ʜ̸̧̛̼̯̦̳̠̼̘͔̘͓͎͉̝̪̼̓͗̓́̓͑̐̄̽̔̀̌͆̏͘̕͜ͅɘ̵̡̢̪̺̱̝̹̼̯̹̭̗̫̟͔̖̯́͗́̈́̽͆́̽͛͂̇̆̿̈̽͠͝ɿ̶̧̧͙̪͔̘̰͚̥̲̝̱̠̣̠̰͙̤̱̻͌̾̐̋̈́̋̃͆̑̆̽̾͒̈́͑͛̉͒͗̕͝ɘ̴͍̠͈̬͕̪̱̬̦̟̫̞̰̗̹̥̀̅̊̿̽͑͐̈́̈́̌̔̂̀̚͘͝͝͝ͅͅ ̷̨̢̡̛͕̣̪̞̻͇͈̗̫̗̞͉̦͉̟̈̈́̔͑̂̀͆̅́͐͂̀̏̽̈͘̚͘͜͝͝ʇ̴̡̛̠̻̬͔̬̺̝̮͍͉̪̮͖͉̹̭͔͒̃̽͐͊̊͒͊̀͑̌͛͌̿͘͠͝ơ̸̧̨̧͓̺̲͚͙͉͚̦͖̘̺̼̼̞̔̈́̏̽͋̓̌̀̃̓̓̎̐̕̚̕͝͝ɿ̴̨̡̡̛̮̼̼̠̙̦̖̣͕̩̗̥͈̞̓͋̿͒̆́̍̈́̏͑̅̐́͒̄̕͜͝ ̴̢̡͔̯̰̺͙̻̼̻̰̘͚̙͖̩̳͍̮̂̄̈̀͒̿̉̃̂̔̈́́̅̔̆̏̕̚̕͝ͅγ̷̨̛̭͔͔̘̝̭̘̯͈̞̹̠̻̬̳̬͆̂͗̀̏̾̓͐͆͗̓̊͒̕͘͜͝͝o̶͖̳͎͕͔̺̟͔̥͔͈̪̱͈͔͔̩̳͍̬̦͐̀͐̽̿͂̐͌̎̍̓͂̂̀̓̀̕̚͘͝͠υ̸̢̢̻͎̫̥̘̲͙̙͙̮͈̭͙̣͈̜̊͐̿̃̈́͒̽͊̈́̅̊̀͊́̾͘͜͜͝.̵̢̠̦̱̹̫̗̖̥͖͓̞͎̫̰̙̯̞͋̏͊̅̏̊̒̉̃͗͌̆̅̇́̕͠͝͝ '. His head hurt he tried looking up, only then did he look around and realise the pile of boxes sitting around the front entrance. His mother was holding a large suitcase and looked over at him. Her face grimaced.

"Come now, Allen", she said. He made his way to his mother. He looked back at his father- no at Shawn Young who looked back at him with cold empty eyes. The butler met him at the gate where his belongings had already been packed. The man gazed down at him pitifully.

"I wish you the best... Allen," He said.

The mother-son pair rounded their luggage into the car.

"From now on you'll be Allen White", his mother said.

"Ok..." he murmered "What about the boxes", Allen asked.

"Shawn won't let us keep them. It's his money he said and won't be sparing us a single penny".

.

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.

.

.

They made their way out of the lines of expensive houses and when night fell they reached rows of run-down apartments.

"We'll be staying with my friend", his mother said.

They carried their luggage up the old mouldy stairs and reached a beaten-up unit. The number on the door was already fading. Without even knocking Lauren swung open the door confidently. Allen stood behind her nervously.

"Kevin I'm here".

The man, Kevin ducked out of the kitchen. He was a large muscular man, with long brown hair and green eyes. He looked handsome but the disinterested way he looked at Allen made him shiver. When he saw Lauren though his face brightened.

"Laurey, I was waiting for you. Look I made some food for us, there's some for the little one as well"

"Thank you, Kev you didn't have to."

"Ah no worries, it was a simple recipe anyways." he smiled.

The food was delicious, steam rose from the soup and the warm vegetables melted in Allen's mouth. Throughout the meal his mother and Kevin made eyes to each other he ignored that. Throughout the night strange sounds came from the bedroom he ignored that. He dreamed of himself, riding red stars flying in the skies, warm hugs and the smell of cinnamon. He'll be ok.