Mom was I always this way,” a little boy said.
“No,” a small woman said in the corner of the grey room, a room so still, and filled with so much anxiety it feels as it would collapse at any given moment.
    A boy’s back faced against a cold glass barrier in between them, no face was present, just the small slider-like proportions of a child, the full frontal face of his body was consumed by darkness. A lone florescent in the middle of the room, it’s light not strong enough to make it to the corners of the square shape of the grey space.
   The woman got up and headed towards the door before she was halted by the child, “ what was I like before?” The child's voice seemed as if it was erupting from the darkness, no direction in which it was going. The women stood still, as if she just saw a ghost. The woman's lip fluttered, as she tried to come up with a astounding explanation. Yet no sound came from her lips, just the absence of thoughts spinning in her mind.
  The child spoke again, “what was I like before?” he repeated in the same tone as before, as if his mother had not ignored him. The women slowly turned around, her little brown eyes slowly coming into focus. She motioned her gaze to the little boy in the chair, still in the opposite direction of her view.
   The women's hands curled, as she gripped them as tight as she could. Her stone-cold face looked at the glass, now a insignificant barrier. She got over the nerves and talked in a mediate tone  at the boy, “how about you turn around so I can see your face.” The mother seemed nervous her eyes closed, as if wishing she had never spoken.
  The chair squeaked as the child turned, a long scar arose from the child's face. It stretched across him like long  arms reaching to each end of his ears. The mother took a step back almost terrified of her own child. The child gave her a half given smile, the ones you would see in horror movies. His brown hair flickered between his eyes as red pupils tore out the surrounding darkness.
“What mommy, what was I like,” he could sense the frightened look in his mothers eyes, the look of despair. Was it his scar? Or was it how long his hair gotten? The boy couldn't tell.
“ don't worry there's glass so you can't get the monster,” as he said that he tapped on the thick pane of glass, pressing his fingers against it showing his mom that it was safe.
  Tears strode down the woman's face as she was lost for words, “what have they done with you.” Her words choked out her mouth, her hands shook as her heartbeat thumped. She knelt against the window, putting her temple against the glass. She slammed her fist against the boys hands, the glass made the room jolt, and the florescent tremble. She wanted him to be free, by her side. She wanted to cradle him in her hands like she did as a baby, this was her baby. Yet this child was separated by glass, a short distance away, but a long distance away from the mothers heart.
  “ What was I like…?” no emotion on the child's face, it was as if the scar was his emotion.
“ what did they do to you?” She pounded against the glass more and more, expecting it to shatter.
The door handle shook and two men walked in. The woman fought as the two men grabbed her by the arms. She ferociously shook her body free of the men's grasp and clung to the glass, wanting a last moment. Probably a final moment with her son.
“What was I like mommy,” the boy repeated.
The two men grabbed her by the wrists and pulled her away from the glass. As they dragged her out towards the door frame she spoke, “ you where mine Nathan, you where mine.” This time the woman didn’t resist. The men took her and closed the door behind them. The room then was once again filled with silence. It was left a grey room with a florescent light, and a glass wall in the middle.