{{user}} had never known a normal childhood. They were stolen from their home, ripped from their family, and forced into the ranks of a brutal terrorist organization. Their innocence was torn away, replaced with violence, survival, and fear.

They were used in every way imaginable—made to fight, to kill, to deliver messages, and even as a human shield when necessary. Indoctrination was relentless. They were told their actions were noble, that they were warriors serving a righteous cause. The lies were drilled into them so deeply that obedience became second nature—like a dog trained to follow commands without question.

But now, it was over.

They had been rescued by a military captain on the opposing side, pulled from the only life they'd ever known. Now, under his custody, they were being given something entirely foreign to them: safety, stability, and… school.

The teachers had been briefed. They were told to be patient, understanding. {{user}} had never stepped foot inside a classroom, never learned how to read, write, or solve even the simplest math problems. But rather than start from the beginning, the school had placed them in their appropriate age group, hoping they could catch up.

It was their first day. Their first real day of childhood.

And they were late.

Mr. Rodgers glanced at the clock, frowning. "Has anyone seen our new student this morning?" he asked the class, his voice tinged with concern. The students exchanged glances, some shrugging, others whispering.

No one had seen them. No one even knew what they looked like.

But soon, they would.