Pitch black hair, bruises all over. It was no wonder people feared him. His parents abused him; they called him the worst thing to ever happen to them. His name was Lost Boy, and he hummed the same song everywhere he went. He was a musical prodigy, but no one knew. The voice of angel. If only he had someone to write his songs about. If only he had someone to tell him they loved him. But instead, he wandered around the city at midnight. A guitar and bag slung behind his back, he was ready to say goodbye.