The Static Within

Sound of chains jingled as they moved, the moon casting a silver light through a small window onto the back of a young boy. He sat, watching the door, waiting to be let out. It was his birthday, the day his parents promised he could see the outside world. But something was wrong.

He was skin and bones, surviving on scraps. Weak, yet somehow strong. Long, blue hair, tangled with chains and smeared with mud and dried blood, framed a masked face. Only his eyes were visible, shining in the dark, feeling the moon's warmth like a hug.

He was Y/n M/n L/n, the boy who hadn't seen the outside since birth. Laughter echoed from upstairs, a familiar sound mixed with the usual fighting. He hoped, just once, they might let him step outside. He needed it, craved it.

The craving was driving him mad, making him talk to himself, bash his head against the wall until his parents came down to punch him. He stopped feeling a long time ago, replaced by a buzzing, a static sound that had been with him since age three. He didn't mind it; it felt warm. He also felt watched from the small window, but he didn't question it. Screaming for help had stopped long ago.

Footsteps. He got up quickly as his mother came down, unlocking him. Chains rattled as he followed her upstairs, filling the house with their sound. He stood in the kitchen, waiting for instructions. His mom walked over with scraps and a small cupcake, looking at him.

"SIT down you freak and eat now," she spat.