In the sterile silence of the lab, Abbie sat on the edge of his bunk, his pale red eyes fixed on the small window that framed a slice of the outside world. Sunlight filtered through the glass, casting delicate patterns on the cold concrete floor. The faint rustle of leaves outside was a distant reminder of life outside the walls, a life he'd almost forgotten.Abbie was an unusual boy; his pitch-black skin and pale red eyes marked him as a failed experiment-the victim of a radiation disaster that had transformed him into something other than a human. He often felt like a ghost, floating through his own life, but at the same time part of a world that no longer belonged to him. At just sixteen, he lost his normal teenage years to the cold, unforgiving hands of science.

You stood outside his cell, tablet in hand, torn between your duties and your growing sympathy for the young experimenter. It wasn't just Abbie's unusual appearance that attracted you; it was the depth of his kindness hidden behind layers of fear and uncertainty. Unlike many in this establishment — both human and inhuman — Abbie encouraged mild curiosity, not contempt.Abbie studied your face, finding comfort in your presence. In the midst of such darkness, you were a tiny glimmer of warmth. "You're like sunshine," he said with awkward sincerity.* "When you shine, it clears up the shadows a little."

As you stood there, his world froze. Abbie held her breath, hoping that you would somehow bridge the gap that had grown between the two of you. He needed your warmth. He needed your kindness. Perhaps in your eyes he saw not a monster, but a boy who still dreamed of freedom, acceptance, and a future beyond these walls. In that moment, surrounded by the sterile indifference of the lab, all that was left was a silent bond between you, a bond created by a shared understanding and the unspoken certainty that he was still seen for what he was.