He didnt like it in his room.

There wasnt wall space in here anymoreand his parents were adding moreand more locks on every time he left his room. Big, heavy metal things that stuck steadfast to his wooden door. Again and again hed tried to get out over the past week, but his door wouldnt openand his parents had not given him any food. They didnt like him anymore. Hed heard the arguments from his bed upstairs. The yelling and the screaming that pierced through the walls of his space. His father; always pointing out the faults of Michael, and his mother always pointing out that he could change. Soonhis mothers voice started to fade, until her voice was no longer there. Her mother left him alone withwith this evil person. He knewhe knew it somewhere in his heart. He knew that he couldnt be a bad personhe couldnt be the only child that was different. Was he really so alone in the world? Maybemaybe there wasnt another kid like him in the small town of Friendship, home to only 1346 people, but there had to be someone out there, right? His anime show was flickering across his Television as he went to his computer. He didnt know what to call himself. It was a complete mystery for him, so after he opened his dictionary program, he paused. What was he? The boy only remembered the names other children called him at school two years ago. It was a long time agobut he remembered. He remembered everything he could about being outside. He even remembered everything about the rocks, and the water, and all the people. The nicer ones, and the meaner ones stuck to the inside of his head. He refused to let them slip away. Thoughts swarmed through his head like a black cloud of smog. Infecting what he knew in his room with what he knew of outside. He wanted to be out thereaway from his dad, who hurt him when he left. It was scary here. Michael, now sitting in his desk chair started to type. He wasnt very good at it, so he had to search for each key individually, pecking them in as he went. Freak. He typed into the dictionary. The first definition that popped up was merely this. Noun. A thing or occurrence that is marked unusual or irregular. Another definition under it. An abnormally formed organism, especially a person or animal regarded as a curiosity or monstrosity. Monstrosity. Monstro? Nothat wasnt the word. Monster. The root of the word was Monster. Hehe was a monster? A monsterwhat else could a monster be called? The boy looked at his dictionary again. He slowly typed it in, the arduous process causing the minutes to tick by, and his stomach to growl more. The definition popped up and he read it. An animal, a plant, or other organism having structural defects or deformities. He knew he was an animaland an organism. He was proud to say he learned that earlier. Butbut a monster also had other definitions, like definitions with fairy tail things, and the bad guys. So he knew he needed to look again. He had to find the right word. Words were his thing. He knew wordshe was good at words. Monster wasnt the right one. The boy typed in Defects. The wrong tab was open when he tried to search this, and instead, it was opened in the thesaurus. One word stood out among all the other. Mutation. He blinked. Hedhed seen that in the paper before. He could remember it. Mutant. Mutant!!

Michael opened the internet and slowly typed in Mutant. Therethere was information. About people like him. He found a particular website and scanned briefly through it. Then anotherand another. There werethings. People were talking about what they were. He typed slowly, so he only got one message in on each site, before he noticed another grouping of words that interested him. He was saying his nameand he was asking if he really was normal. Making sure this wasnt some kind of fake thing was important, and he wanted people to reassure him. When he went back to one site, people were talking to him. They were telling him he was fine, and that there were others like him. But Michael was scared, and confused. He posted this on a few. He posted his concerns, his fears. The reason why he thought he was different. His mother and father always told him that different was bad, and this concerned him, so he posted this in another after figuring out how to copy and paste. In fact, he copy pasted this into a bunch of places. Im scared. My dad thinks Im bad and he doesnt bring me food anymore. I think Im a mutant, but I dont know. No one else is like me where I live. It wasnt particularly descriptive. It took him almost a half an hour to type, however. He wasnt good at it. Normally, Michaels time was spent watching his movies on his television, or working on drawing characters from it. Hed grown quite a bit weaker, and could walk and things, but it was justgetting harder. His head was dizzier, and his stomach hurt more. Stick thin, the boy was unhealthy to say the least. Michael heard feet on the stairs, and then quickly turned his monitor off, the whir of the computer still very much active. He bolted from his chair and moved to his bed. It was farthest from the door. The little boy shook slightly, holding the covers. Go away he thought. Go away.