Prologue

Cyrus didn't know where he was going and nor did he care. His priority was to get as far away from Sunyshore as possible. Not once did he stop to reconsider – nothing could ever convince him to return to the place where his nightmares became a reality. The fighting, the screaming, the lectures, the beatings… It was all too much.

He continued running until he could no longer run. Collapsing to the ground in a heap, he lay there gasping for breath, glancing up at the sky wondering if anyone was looking for him. The police were probably exploring his house now, trying to find what had caused the deaths of his parents, and asking around town for answers. No one knew. To the rest of the residents, his parents were seen as lovely people. His father was responsible for converting wind energy into electricity and his mother just a housewife.

But it wasn't enough. His father wanted more and this placed a strain on his relationship with his wife. The relationship worsened when Cyrus was born. His childhood years were spent locked indoors with his father, being forced to study and read rather than enjoy the outdoors with the other kids his age. He went to school for a few years until his father decided the school was useless. It was a life of isolation – if the man spotted Cyrus chatting with another kid, he'd be dragged home and punished. If he shed a tear, he'd be struck, punished for expressing what was considered weakness. His father could not tolerate failure and believed all emotions were weak. His mother tried to protect him by hiding him at her parent's place, but her husband always found out. It ended when his mother decided to end the misery by poisoning her husband and herself.

Remaining in Sunyshore was no longer an option.

It started to rain. Trembling, he picked himself up from the ground and wondered over to seek shelter under the trees. He was freezing now, but he wasn't too concerned. Perhaps the elements would do him a favour and end his life. Dying was a far more attractive option than living. No more pain. No more suffering. No more nightmares. He'd have the peace he so desperately longed for. He sat underneath one of the trees and pressed his back against the bark, bringing his knees towards his chest. Perhaps a lightning bolt would strike down the tree and crush him if he was lucky.

The storm continued. Luck didn't appear to be on his side today as no damage was caused. He was alive and he hated it. Why was it when someone wanted to die they had to live, and when someone wanted to live they died? The world was an unjust and cruel place. If the storm couldn't kill him, he figured starvation would, so he chose to refrain from eating and drinking. He could hold off the hunger, but he couldn't fight off the need to sleep. Closing his eyes, he rested his head against the tree and dozed off.

.

Cyrus awoke the next morning finding himself lying down on a bed in a building of some sort. It appeared to be a lab judging by the high-tech machinery around him. An image of his father's computer lab flashed in his mind, and he was reminded of the punishments that had taken place. Heart pounding, he sat up and swung his legs over the side off the bed. He tried to escape, but lack of good food had weakened him. He fell on the floor.

A young female with dark blue hair and warm blue eyes rushed over to his side. She lowered herself to the ground and reached out to grab him, but this only made him panic even more. Had he been caught? Where the heck was he and who was this strange girl that looked down on him with sympathy?

"I'm not here to hurt you. We're here to help," she said, looking to her right, drawing his attention to the man standing nearby. The man held a piercing gaze and Cyrus was briefly reminded of his father. He cringed and looked away.

"At least he's awake now," the man said. Despite the intimidating gaze the man had, he was strangely softly spoken, not at all like his father. "Johanna, please bring him something to eat. By the looks of it, he hasn't eaten anything in days."

The blue-haired girl nodded and she hurried out of the room. Cyrus sat up, wincing at a sharp pain in his lower left ribcage. "Who are you?" he said, glancing up.

"My name is Professor Rowan. I'm a Pokemon researcher." He knelt down, observing him closely. Cyrus pulled back, unsure. The man looked at him in a way Cyrus wasn't familiar with. He did not look at him with disgust or hatred, but rather with genuine concern. "I found you in the nearby woods. What were you doing there in the middle of a storm?"

"Exploring," he lied.

Professor Rowan's eyebrows lifted. He didn't appear to believe him, but he didn't ask further questions. "You're safe now. You have nothing to fear in this town. Tell me, what is your name and where are you from? You look as though you have travelled a long distance."

Cyrus paused. How much information could he share with this man? Perhaps he was connected with his father in some way? It was a worrying thought. Still, the man had taken him in and given him a place to rest. If he knew him he would've said something. He decided to take a risk. "Cyrus. I'm from Sunyshore," he said quietly.

"Sunyshore? My, that is a long way to have travelled." Professor Rowan stood up then extended his hand. Cyrus looked at it. What was Professor Rowan doing? The last time he had accepted a hand, he ended up kissing the floor. "It's all right." This man didn't seem like he was going to push him onto the ground so he cautiously accepted the gesture. Professor Rowan helped him up from the floor and Cyrus sat down on the bed.

Johanna returned with a bowl of soup and sat down next to him. He looked down at the soup and frowned, a little wary of the suspicious brown bits floating on the surface.

Lifting his gaze, he faced the female and put on a smile. "It's homemade soup. I made it myself." He looked down at again. Not eating it would be rude, so he picked up the spoon, scooped some soup up then brought it to his mouth. It had a scent he couldn't quite name.

Professor Rowan smiled. "Well, I have to get back to work so I will see you both later, all right? Take care of him, Johanna." He winked then walked out leaving Cyrus alone with her.

Being in such close proximity to another female other than his mother was oddly nerve-wracking. She seemed to notice and chuckled. "I'm not going to bite you, you know… Unless you want me to," she said, with a wink. Cyrus looked at her blankly, not quite understanding if she was being serious or not. Johanna cleared her throat. "You should really that soup before it gets cold. It's not as effective otherwise."

Oh right, the soup. He put the spoon in his mouth and quickly swallowed it, trying to taste as little as possible. Oddly enough, it didn't taste as bad as it looked. It was a little bitter, but that was probably due to the unknown herbs in it. His stomach growled reminding him he hadn't eaten in days. He took another bite and swallowed, feeling ravenous all of a sudden.

"You certainly must be hungry," Johanna said, laughing again.

Her laughter sounded so foreign to him. Such a joyful emotion had been forbidden in his household. Actually, all emotions were considered useless so he had become quite proficient at the art of keeping a blank face. He had been maintaining the mask for so long now it had begun to stick. It gave off a cold uncaring vibe even though he didn't feel that way inside. "Thank you," he said.

"You don't have to thank me. I'm only doing what is right." He finished off the remains of the soup then placed the bowl on the bedside table. He tried to think of a way to start the conversation, but nothing came to mind. Starting conversations wasn't exactly one of his strong points so he sat in silence, waiting for her to start one. "You must be a trainer to have made it this far. Pretty hard to get by without a pokémon."

He nodded. "I've got a Zubat. My mother gave it to me," he said softly. He paused briefly then looked at her again. "Are you a trainer?"

She shook her head. "No, I've never been particularly interested in walking down that path. I thought about being a professor like my uncle at one point, but I'm more interested in fashion. What about you? Are you planning on taking the league challenge?"

"No, I've never been interested in that." The truth was he was forbidden to take that path. His father wanted him to take over his business when he died and so he spent long hours trying to teach his son. Cyrus picked things up quickly, but his father was never impressed, always coming up new insults and degrading comments to use to ensure Cyrus felt useless.

"If you don't mind me asking, how old are you?"

"Fifteen. What about you?"

Her expression brightened. "Me too! You know, it's nice to meet someone else the same age," she said, lightly brushing her hand against his arm. "Most of the people here are old. Hey, when you feel better, I can take you to the lake! They say a legendary Pokemon lives at the bottom! It's beautiful!"

"Sure, that sounds fine." It was one of those moments he knew smiling was the appropriate expression to make, but he couldn't make it happen. Johanna probably thought he was uninterested, just like all the other kids at his school thought. The quiet one. The shy one. The loser. The freak. He had been called many things and not one had been positive. Even his teacher, a woman called Carolina, had taken a disliking to him.

"You seem sad," she said softly. "I know what will make you feel better though – ice cream!" She stood up abruptly and hurried out of the room leaving Cyrus confused. Johanna hadn't pried for details and she didn't seem offended by his blunt remark. He wasn't sure how to respond. She seemed quite bubbly, the exact opposite of what he was. She returned a few moments later with a big tub of choc-chip ice cream and two spoons then handed him one and took the other for herself.

He watched her help herself to a big scoop of ice-cream, finding a simple action quite fascinating. Eating ice-cream, especially out of a tub like this, was considered repulsive in the eyes of his father. He claimed consuming too much ice-cream led to unhealthy adults. A ridiculous statement, but one he enforced. Johanna managed to get some on her face. Without a thought, he reached a hand out and scraped it off with his thumb, gently brushing his fingers against her face.

She stopped eating. He quickly withdrew his hand and looked down, berating himself for touching her without permission. That was also forbidden. "Sorry," he mumbled, lowering his spoon. "I shouldn't have done that."

"Don't be sorry," Johanna said picking up his spoon. She handed it back to him, her eyes locking on his own. "It's more than anything else anyone has done for me. Some of the other guys that visited weren't very nice people. They'd laugh at me and call me names. One guy actually pushed me into the lake once." She paused then spoke some more. "You've gone through something similar, haven't you? I can see the pain in your eyes. Maybe that's why I feel a connection with you."

He had often heard of people talking about connections with others before and he still wasn't quite sure what it meant. Despite the little experience he had with other human beings, he felt somehow at peace in her presence. Was this the connection others often talked about it? He didn't know, but he wanted it to last. "It's a topic I avoid talking about."

"I know the feeling, but sometimes it's better to let it all out rather than keep it bottled up inside. There's only so much pain a person can take before it consumes them, turning them into someone else." She placed a hand over his own, her eyes never leaving his face. "You're not as alone as you think you are." She pulled her hand away suddenly and stood up. "You should get some rest. I'll come and check up on you later." She stood up and exited the room, leaving the tub of ice-cream with him.

For the first time in his life, he felt at peace.