His new home was way nicer than the last, but it felt abnormally empty.

His uncle had done everything he could to make Enzo feel happy. His room was big, he had been allowed to paint the walls any color he wanted, and he even had received a big amount of money so he could buy new furniture or clothes.

It didn't work.

He spent all the money in things that would make him forget his old life, like it haunted him to even look at something remotely similar to what he used to do, wear or even watch when his mom was alive. The new wardrobe was infinite times better than his previous one, the clothes now with an average quality instead of the cheap ones he used to wear.

Enzo also discovered a new passion that had set his uncle off a little bit, but it blew a lot of steam off and made the boy the happiest he had been in months. Fighting.

Not like picking fights with tugs around shady neighborhoods, he was talking about ring fights, punching bags, breaking pieces of hard wood. Anything that involved hitting something amazed the boy, but he stuck with boxing.

And let me tell you, this dude was wild.

The veterans at the local training ring got scared of how good he had gotten in such a short period of time. In two weeks Enzo was as good as one of them and still improving quickly.

He started spending an unhealthy amount of time training, and that led to him being eventually exhausted, that was followed by him becoming grumpy and irritable. A combination not good for a troublemaker.

While coming home late at night, he was passing a shady street when a group of your basic generic high school thugs that were messing around and obviously were up for something that would lead them nowhere good. While passing by them, the apparent leader of the group entered his vision and blocked his path. "Where do you think you're going, princess?" Said the kid, he looked to be about seventeen years old, with a dirty blond hair recently cut and a nose that looked to have been broken one too many times, and his voice was raspy and sounding like a bunch of eletronic cigarettes when he talked.

"I was just going on my way when your rich boy ass got in front of it, now I'll politely ask you to move out of my way once, but after that the polite part of me is out of the window. So please, could you move aside so I can pass?" Enzo asked, voice low and tone dripping sarcasm.

The boys laughed, like he had told some kind of joke they thought was hilarious, the one that stood in front of his started talking "Oh guys, look! He asks politely. Listen here, princess. You are going to give me all Your money and run away like a good little boy and then we'll leave you to cry to your mommy alone, if you don't, well, me and the dudes are going to break you till' you're in pieces. "

Oh, boy. Here it comes.

To the mention of his mother, even by a bitchy little rich boy who knew nothing about his current situation, his blood boiled. Everything in his mind seemed to go away as he entered a trance led by rage. His eyes seemed to start glowing darkly, his aura scary and imposing enough to make anyone in their right mind want to run away as fast as possible. But of course, these boys weren't in their right minds, so they just shared scared glances with each other and stood ready for a fight, positions sloppy and easy to take down, just waiting for someone experienced to beat them into next week.

And like he had done it like a hundred times, Enzo started telling the thugs a story, voice low and raspy, leaving his mouth heavy with what seemed like ancient enchantments. "The brave soldier, oh so mighty, never failed, never swayed. His sword, once bright, now heavy with the weight of the sadness, the misery, and the distaste from those who it took. Feared by many, stopped by none, his army prospered and led chaos throughout all lands, all hands calloused from the constant hold of the doom of the enemy." And as he chanted those words, the fools eyes glazed, as if the weren't the owners of their own minds no longer, and started attacking each other. With swift moves, Enzo made his way past the fight and as soon as he got out of hearing range, what he had done dawned upon him and the fighting boys started gaining control over themselves again, now wound and beaten. And as realization hit him, he hit the road. Not looking back, afraid of himself.

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Now at home, the panicking teenager didn't even greet his uncle. It wasn't anything uncommon, seeing that the boy barely even spoke a word, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to even try to keep up a conversation. He ran straight to his room, grabbed a handful of random clothes in his drawer and entered the bathroom so fast the door slammed shut with a loud 'thump' and he heard faintly, over his own loud thoughts, his uncle screaming at him in portuguese. Something about thinking it was the fridge door, but he was too stressed to care.

He turned the cold water on right away, and hissed at the sensation of it on his skin, muscles tensing and relaxing a little after the water cleared his head enough to think properly. Damn, his head had been so up in the clouds he didn't even remember how he got home, or even what time it should be by now. All hat passed his head was what he had fone to these motherfuckers back in the alley. Not that he was regreting anything, but how in the world had he done that!? Sure, he had made multiple tourists in his hometown get completely focused on his storytelling, but it wasn't like that. He was broke from his trance by his uncle yelling again, now questioning him if he thought the water bill would be free that month so he finally came out of the shower.

After he dressed up and calmed down, he sat in his bed thinking about the situation he had came across. He started to remember all those times he saw things unexplainable, but he was tired and hadn't eaten in a long time. So he took a deep breath, brushed and styled his hair in the usual mess of curls and went downstairs to have another silent dinner with his uncle.

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Enzo right now is having what possibly could be the most stressfull moment he had ever had ever since he moved countries.

During dinner, there was a knock on the door. His uncle had gone to open it and came back with a face that could only be described as worrietd and confused, and then he asked: "Enzo, darling, why the fuck is there a cop at the door asking for you with a bunch of beaten up kids behind him?"

That led to him, his uncle and some pretty destroyed rich kids with stuck up parents and fancy lawers spending the night at the police station in some very confusing discussions.

"So you're telling me that these kids tried to rob you, then they suddenly started punching eachother without reason, and you escapes and didn't tell anyone what happened" a cop - his nametag read McDonald, and Enzo had to muster up all his willpower not to start singing a ridiculus song for children - asked him, looking ready for either a cup of coffee, a nap, or a beer. "That pretty much sums it up." Responded Enzo, who had manipulated the story just a tiny bit so he wouldn't end up in a mental asylum or something like that (he still managed to sound crazy, and a latino boy with a heavy brazillian accent didn't sound any more convincing than american white boys covered in bruises).
The lawers looked like they had just won the lottery, and the events that followed would only lead his life into a downward spiral.