Arus hadn't wanted to eat dinner. He wasn't feeling hungry. His phone going off on the way home made him look at the calender. Which reminded him of what tomorrow was. As it was that would make it very hard to remain happy or caring right now. It was quite horrible what happened the next day. Well today anyways. He hadn't slept all night long. Well not more than ten minutes. The memory was too horrible. The one time he almost managed to escape...he almost lost his life. He climbed into the shower around when others would be woken up. Washing but mostly just standing under the spray of the water. His strands of hair plastered to his person. He couldn't shake the images from his mind.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Eleven years old....it feels so long ago.</span><br/><br/>He shuddered at the memory.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">So long ago that I almost died....</span><br/><br/>It was so clear.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Eleven years old and finally a day came when they both were gone for the day. They had locked him in the closet but he had learned how to unlock it. His undernourished arm could slip through the slitted door and up to unlock the door. So he did. He grabbed nothing but his teddy bear boo boo. Named that because it had as many injuries as he did. He left the closet. Left the house. Didn't even leave he door open. The plan was perfect. To run and run and never look back.<br/><br/>He was many miles away by the time they got home. It was another couple of miles when he heard the sound of sirens. They were getting closer and closer. Why were they getting closer to him. He was trapped in an alley with cops on either side. <span style="font-weight: bold">Come with us sonny. Your parents are worried about you.</span> "No they aren't! They will hurt me more! I won't go back! I won't!" The cops just shook their head. <span style="font-weight: bold">Kids parents seemed like nice folk. Must be true that he has a mental illness. We'll just have to take him back by force. Sorry kid but you have to go home.</span> The man said right as he grabbed me.<br/><br/>Struggling got me nowhere and even though I was skinny as a stick and bearing bruises they wouldn't listen. They had been told I had mental illness. That I hurt myself sometimes. What lies they had been told. They got me home. My mother pulled me in her arms and gave me a fake hug. Fake tears of joy trailing down her cheeks. It was all an act. A play for the cops to see. They left and when that door shut the tears dried up. She threw me hard. Slamming me into coffee table. Breaking two ribs. It was far from over.<br/><br/>Father came and held me while mother demeaned me and broke my fingers one at a time. Piece by piece. Laughed as I screamed in pain. My father threw me into the fireplace. I got a bit burnt and still the punishments were unleashed upon me. That was not the worst of it. It continued on. Bone breaking, name calling, bruise inflicting. throwing...it continued until I was coughing up blood. Until my breathing was harsh raspy and barely there. Only then did they stop. When I was broken and almost dying. They sent me to the hospital that day....</span><br/><br/>He shook his head. Painful memories. That was all it was. He got out of the shower after the water had long since turned cold. Drying off and dressed in a pair of jeans and a shirt. He dried his hair a bit more and exited the room. Ready to go to their ballet class. Breakfast came and all he did was move it around with his fork. His face serious and without a smile. It didn't change even when they got into the limo for their long ride to the ballet school. He was silent. His face solemn. He couldn't even look at Hannah. Couldn't keep the clear signs of pain and sorrow from his features.