Chapter V: Noblesome.

  “Who is a noble person to you? Is it someone who classifies themselves as a martyr or someone who keeps themselves humble and eager to learn?”

  September 15th, 1988. 8 AM.

  The air flowed through his home, clean of drugs this time.

  Link II stepped out in a more poised mood.

  Walking towards the couch, flicking his hand and cleaning the house within milliseconds.

  Fixing any issues with the internals of the home unconsciously.

  The house impossibly the same as beforehand.

  While grabbing books about gravitational physics and quantum mechanics.

  Scientists stating that telekinesis is not able to be functional —yet here was Link II, using it casually like a turn of a doorknob.

  Remarking in his head.

  “Yeah Right!”

  Laughing to himself as he read their quotes about telekinesis.

  Sitting and reading the books, enjoying them despite the lackluster knowledge, he remembered learning about a place called “School” and was hesitant to try it.

  Remembering the cops always near his neighborhood and others around them.

  But reminiscing on the TV shows he watched, he was reminded about the threat of CPS.

  Knowing that CPS would catch him if he wasn't in school.

  Preparing himself for an emergency, packing negotiable tactics like fresh made food in his bag.

  In case any gangsters attacked or police arrived abruptly.

  Giving himself some time to “bribe” them, then swiftly kill them in their own food.

  Alongside packing the regular school stuff required like pencils and notebooks

  Not understanding that those were too advanced for the five year old toddler he was to bring to kindergarten.

  Walking to school, he could just feel the danger around him.

  The stares of gang members, some concerned parents, alongside young children asking their parents innocently why Link II walked alone.

  Most of them not caring, but a small few had concerned looks.

  While Link II felt worse about his confidence with every step he made.

  Hating the dead silence and aggressive conversations in the streets as he walked by.

  Wishing he had something like a portable music player to stuff out the silence.

  Soon arriving at the school, his nerves filled with hesitation.

  Uncomfortable with all the eyes scanning him like a threat, seeing them all stare with care intertwined with robot-like scanning.

  As he walked through the hallways, a teacher approached him.

  The teacher's appearance being a mirror of himself.

  Almost innocent.

  Kind, but respectful.

  Silently scarred.

  As they asked in a soft tone.

  “Hey kid! How are you feeling? Do you know where to go on your first day here?”

  Link II, instantly confused at first, asking himself.

  “How does she know I'm new here? How does she know anything about me???”

  As they spoke again in the same tone.

  “I can walk you to class if you want, little guy. Do you need a hand?”

  His response being:

  “Nah, I'm good… thanks Ma'am.”

  The teacher was stunned, surprised by how unique it sounded.

  Despite the other children who would cling to them on their first day.

  His childlike voice sounded way deeper than any other kid.

  Sounding like a grown adult.

  Their eyes narrowing down at him, almost sensing something dangerous with him but keeping it to themselves.

  Just like he predicted most adults do.

  As Link II arrived into the classroom, sitting on the carpet, the clock reading 8:40 AM

  Surprised by one thing in the room…

  Its clean appearance.

  Wiped desks, upright set pencils.

  A somewhat warming foundation to teach and learn.

  The Teacher spoke with a calm voice.

  “Welcome, Class! I'm so excited to see you all today! We won't do any work today, instead, we will greet ourselves to our classmates, starting with me!”

  As the teacher cleared their voice with an “ahem”, they began to speak.

  “Hi! My name is Miss Alicia, and I am your teacher.

  Today, our goal is to communicate with our peers! Have fun.”

  The kids cheered for the lesson, Link II still keeping the stoicism to his every expression.

  Silently not understanding why he needed to communicate with people he won't remember for the rest of his life.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  If… he survived the streets.

  Trying to hide the childlike excitement of meeting others.

  Admittedly, he was a social bug, but due to how many people hurt him, it made him shy and quiet.

  More than anybody else there.

  Leaving to sit near a table, holding back from saying hello to kids that could hurt him more.

  Just as they all were assigned to individual groups.

  Each person's name printed onto a paper put on each table, every child eagerly walking over to meet others.

  All still struggling with properly introducing each other.

  Stuttering their words at first, then slowly growing comfortable to speak clearly.

  While Link II sat on a table and wrote his name, thinking that was the assignment instead of having to meet people.

  Waiting patiently for the assignment to be finished, barely knowing that school lasts six hours.

  He was initially curious about the tools given, which were a mix of used crayons and pencils.

  Set upright in a clean fashion, trying to pretend like they could be used with their blunt edges.

  Meanwhile the other kids around him had giggled and laughed about something funny.

  He glanced over, seeing…

  A pencil dropping to the floor, repeatedly.

  He was confused, not understanding why kids like him were so baffled by something so silly —yet at the same time, so intrigued about comedy to children like him.

  Remembering the last time he saw kids like him having fun, which was rare.

  Children around him were either begging for their lives right before being shot in the face.

  Or acting like they never cared about a dead body that spilled onto the concrete like water.

  Laughing along with the group awkwardly, his voice losing that stability every second.

  Once everyone was done with the lesson, the teacher grabbed each paper and took everyone to recess.

  Before she stepped out that door, her phone rang.

  Telling the kids.

  “Alright, kiddos. Stay for a minute, gotta take a call.”

  Answering as she heard these words.

  “Alicia, keep the kids inside, there's neighborhood activity today… again.

  If you want, I can even let the 5th graders come from my class if you need help.”

  Glancing at everything while talking.

  “Nah, It's alright, I got these kids on my own anyways, I mean they aren't that hard to deal with-”

  Then she saw Link II’s paper.

  Absolutely stunned by his handiwork, looking like an adult’s writing.

  Straight.

  Cursive

  Readable.

  Unlike the other children who had barely readable words in their drawings on the table.

  While on the call, she immediately declined, no longer caring about the already declined offer.

  Darting to Link II, Alicia saw his nervous expression, his hands awkwardly shuffling against one another.

  His eyes glistened like he knew the truth of what was really happening outside.

  After a few moments of staring at him, she spoke.

  “Hey Link? Are you okay?

  You seem to be stressed out about something?

  May I help you with whatever it is that could be stressing you out?”

  Him immediately trying to deny any help.

  “N-No! I-I'm good Ma'am, I am just really tired… That's all.”

  Alicia’s gaze stared with suspicion, knowing there was more behind his mask of a face.

  But to him, he only saw somebody that lied to him about safety.

  Seeing somebody abusing power to hurt others.

  Suddenly, she grabbed his arm and dragged him outside the classroom.

  The toddlers next to him no longer cared about him, rather played with poor man’s toys.

  Broken dolls and used crayons.

  The silence stretched as she dragged him out of the classroom and behind the door.

  Quickly speaking like she was hiding behind lies.

  “Look kid. I know you aren't dumb, you know how to write, maybe even how to steal.

  Especially how to speak to an adult or somebody properly, rather than to speak with an accent.

  So, be honest.

  Did your parents ever… hit you, maybe even force you to do stuff you never wanted to?

  Like ask you for some ‘private time’?

  Because you can tell me the truth. I won't tell anyone, kiddo.”

  But her eyes lied to Link II, to him, he knew if she found out about his home, he would be taken away.

  And he'd rather be hurt again than to lose it all.

  Again.

  So, he just stuttered with purpose.

  “I-I… I… I–”

  Her expression worsened in despair, remembering the same stuttering pain when her innocence was taken away by her father.

  Each moment he stuttered and pretended to not know how to say it…

  It increased her paranoia.

  Despite waiting for him to answer, her emotions got the best of her.

  Which to her, meant two things.

  Somebody sexually assaulted him, which broke her heart.

  Or that somebody abused him, less hurtful but nonetheless heartbreaking.

  Hoping the latter was the correct assumption.

  While his eyes held back tears, feeling the fear of losing everything he just got.

  Shelter and music.

  But to Alicia, she forgot about personal space, so she began to shake his arms in trauma, yelling to him.

  “TELL ME THE TRUTH, WERE YOU ABUSED OR USED???!”

  Almost like she was projecting herself unto him.

  His fear skyrocketed when she shook his arms aggressively.

  His hands vibrated with clear energy.

  Humming like a motor.

  He could feel the adrenaline enter the bloodstream of his palms.

  Trying to control himself before it got out of hand.

  Closing his eyes and screaming back at her, something he never thought he would say.

  “REINCARNATED! THAT’S WHAT HAPPENED!”

  Not knowing why he would say reincarnated.

  As his arms instinctively clapped in the air.

  Like a baby clapping to show emotion besides giggles.

  Crushing something with his own childlike strength that felt like jello and metal.

  Reopening his eyes…

  Her head popped.

  Exploding blood all over his body.

  The same smell of metal returned to his nose.

  Her body fell back to the floor with a small thump.

  He stared in fear, realizing he killed a person who wanted to help him.

  But was misguided by regressed trauma.

  Looking at his hands held in the air, they had small bone fragments stuck in them.

  Not piercing his skin but leaving glitter like tags on his palms.

  Soon after, teachers came outside to see who was screaming.

  The air filled with stress.

  His hands trembled.

  His eyes dilated at the smell of blood.

  Thereafter, he sprinted away from the door.

  Eyes filled with tears.

  Grieving over the innocent killing of his first teacher.

  Running with every stomp into the concrete like an elephant.

  Staying away from the dangerous sides of Compton and staying on the visible, more exposed side of the city.

  Avoiding all the shady alleys, the gang members, and police around the area.

  Not wanting to hurt anybody else nor give unjustified murders.

  As he ran, he noticed people walking by.

  Prostitutes wearing extremely revealing suits, covered in coats.

  Tweakers looking insane and not mentally or physically well, riding bikes on the sidewalks.

  Women and men alike, all having the feeling of pride around them.

  Walking through the crosswalks and the houses and stores around Link II.

  During his panic, he thought to himself.

  “H-Holy… why… why did I clap my hands like that?

  H-How did her head pop?

  Was it from me?

  What caused my cry? Maybe her hands shaking my shoulders?”

  Yet as he ran, he heard sirens in the air.

  Getting closer to home, he saw the silhouette of what seemed to be a car.

  A cop car.

  Nearby in the dumpster, the same exact dumpster where Samuel and him “took care” of the bodies.

  Something in his mind snapped.

  Like it was warning him, telling him…

  “You aren't safe, kill them before they kill us.”

  Arriving close to the dumpster, Link II saw officers near the apartments investigating that same dumpster of bodies.

  Smelling already worse than it should've smelled of trash.

  Seeing the officers put yellow tape outside his home, yellow cards in addition with the silhouette of men drawn with chalk on the concrete.

  “So, Barry, we got a concerned call from a teacher about a kid walking home?”

  “Oh, please, Lucas, who's gonna care that a kid walks home? I did that, and I turned out fine.”

  As the officers saw the sprinting child, their faces filled with concern.

  As they stopped the kid, grabbing him by the shirt, they asked calmly.

  “Hey kid, you okay? You don't look okay-”

  “Barry, he has blood on his cheek and shirt.”

  Both officers gazed at the clearly obvious blood stain.

  But for Link II, this triggered memories.

  His mind flooded with memories of the days before.

  The stoned cops showed up at the apartments, laughing and shooting trigger happy.

  Him and Samuel cleaning up the dead bodies into a nearby dumpster that smelled worse than the smell of dead rats and fish.

  The grotesque feel of each body, almost like ground beef or mud.

  He could remember everything he felt.

  Yet he smelt coffee in the air, bringing him back into reality.

  Abruptly bolting away from their silent stature.

  The fear of the cops embedded in his mind.

  Abruptly caught by one of the officers who spilled his coffee onto the ground, tripping the both of them to the ground.

  They grabbed him, keeping him in a headlock and trying to calm him down as they dragged him towards the car.

  Holding him in the air by the armpits, Link II tried to worm out of the officer's grip, but was overpowered by being buckled into the back seat.

  Buckled into the booster seat.

  He sat in the car filled with fear and trauma resurfacing in his mind, his hands slightly shaking, his nose bleeding lightly.

  The officers in front looked back and forth, concerned for this kid they found running home.

  “Should we take him in? I mean, he does live at this residence, and the chief did say to take anybody in to interrogate.”

  “Yeah Barry. You could be right, especially with that… brown skin of his.”

  They did get one thing right besides the systemic racism.

  Free people do have wings to say the most outrageous things…

  While he sat without wings, trapped by the very booster seat that gave him confidence.

  Wondering to himself what they would do to a Mexican child like himself.