The story takes place not too long ago, in a distant country across the ocean.

Little boy wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He wanted to run away. Oh, how many times had he thought of running away. But where to? He was so little and so defenceless. And his little brother? Who would look after his little brother?

So, little boy promised to himself he would not cry, he would not scream, he would not run away. Life was unfair. But from all the books he had been reading, he knew that life was not about fairness.

From the books, his only refuge, his only way to escape from reality, he had also learnt that all people are not necessarily bad. Of course he already knew that: he believed his mum was a good person for instance. But she was also a victim, and despite all her attempts, she was not able to provide little boy and his younger brother with the safe haven they were longing for.

Over time, little boy had become an expert at withholding his tears and pretending he was a happy child. He never showed anyone his bruised skin, the lash marks on his lower back, his buttocks and his legs. If a bump or a bruise were apparent, he would just say he had fallen, which he actually did a lot and was therefore easy to believe.

Being the seemingly happy, normal child he was, noone suspected anything, and his deep, strong unhappiness had become his dark secret.

He felt dead inside. He had no friends, he had no confidant, and he had no warm place in which to hide. Despite having toys, he did not even have a favourite stuffed animal he could hold and hug when he needed comfort. He had nobody to talk to, and he kept everything inside, burying all in the hope that he would eventually forget.

He felt lonely, oh so lonely. Lonely and cold. And scared. Little boy grew up trusting nobody but himself.

Trust is something that he could not afford, especially when the very person who was supposed to protect him was the one he trusted the least, and feared the most.