“Don’t go near him. It’s dangerous”

“Disgusting. His parents must be killers or something”

“How pitiful. I wish someone would help these cursed children…”

A small child curls up in a dark alleyway, the snow slowly covering him up, as he wishes the snow would block out the noise from all the comments on his insignificant life.

Shut up. You don’t know anything.

He wonders why these people who know nothing about him, call him dangerous.

You never knew my parents.

He wonders why these onlookers act as if they knew his parents and their sins.

You, none of you, have ever had the heart to truly help someone like me.

He wonders why these hypocrites wait for others to take action, and not take it upon themselves.

His senses slowly go numb from the cold. He opens his eyes to see a sliver of the world before the cold takes him – but only darkness welcomed him. The snow has completely buried him.

I guess this is the end.  

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Suddenly, a moment before he decides to give up and offer his consciousness to the cold, light enters his eyes. A faint glimmer of hope fills his thoughts – until he notices the numerous pebbles being hurtled towards him.

“There he is! I told you he was just hiding from us under all that snow! Throw some more pebbles at him!”

“Are you sure this is a good idea? I don’t think he’s moving at all… why isn’t he saying anything?”

“Grandma told me this one’s curse is not being able to speak. That way, he can’t tell on us to the adults!”

“Aren’t you scared of these Cursed Children? My parents told me they were spawns of the devil!”

It was a group of 4 boys, around his age, with a fistful of small pebbles in their hands. His skin, numb from the freezing temperature, did not feel much when the thrown pebbles hit him. The blood drawn from sharp stones was the warmest he felt since he decided to settle in this alleyway.

Why must these children, who only use their mouth to spread even more hate– be the ones to be safe from suffering?

He lifts his hand. Blood was oozing out from a cut in his palm. He smears some of the blood on his numb arms to spread some of its warmth. He had so many unanswered questions. Maybe the warmth of some more blood would keep him alive long enough to seek these answers.

“Hey, he’s standing up…”

“What? You think we should start running?”

“Don’t be such cowards! What can he do anyway, there’s no way someone like him would be able to -“

To the boy’s sudden surprise, what he was saying was cut off, and no sound came from his throat. He looks at his friends – whose faces, only filled with terror, were looking at another direction.

The boy slowly turns his faces toward the cursed child. Blood – the child’s own blood – was smeared all over his body. He was steadily walking towards them. He heard the sounds of his friends who started running away, and as he began to do the same, he trips on a stone he had dropped earlier. The cursed child’s hands started to reach for him – with his eyes seeking answers, a manic smile across his face.

He tried to scream for help – but nothing could be heard from that alleyway, save for the sound of slowly melting snow.