+×3rd Person×+

Jax walled into the house smelling the air that smelt of newly painted walls. "Home sweet home, right Jaxender?" A balding man in his mid 40's spoke coming up behind him and patting Jax's shoulder.
"That's right Pa," He mumbled looking down the hall and admiring the lightness of the room.

Their old home was not very secluded and they lived in a apartment block in America where the walls were so thin if you sneezed you could hear it 3 doors away. And their neighbours had very loud sex right next to Jax's bedroom. They wanted a fresh start together where rude whispers wouldn't follow Jax around.

Jax shuddered and Pa looked at him sympathically, "Forget about that place kiddo. You left it in dust," He smiled encouragingly before pointing up the stairs. "The last door on the left is your room," He gave him a shove in the right direction before Jax went jumping up the stairs 3 at a time. A hard struggle for most but not him.

Jax flung open the door in anticipation and it nearly flew off its hinges. "You know Jaxender Anderson that we paid good money for reinforced hinges for they doors!" His mother called from downstairs in a jokingly way. His Papa also chuckled from the living room probably wearing glasses, with his feet propped up reading a news paper. He walked around his room.

The room was a midnight black with countless constellations painted on the walls in perfect position. He counted the 12 zodiac signs before jumping into a lying position on his black sheets of his double bed. His parents had asked him if he had wanted a queen sized bed but he denied ever offer as he said it would take up room. After countless pleadings he had given in to having a double bed. As you could probably tell they were rich but their time in a shitty apartment was over.

And Jax loved it.

He loved every single second of it.

Until the gun shot rang in his ears.

His Mother's scream of pain.

His Papa's shout of emotional agony.

Another shot ringing in his ear.

Then his Pa's grunt of pain.

Jaxender Anderson wanted to die that day.

And he did.

Emotionally.

When the police came they found a boy around 13 sprawled onto his hard bedroom floor. Blood leaked from his nose, mouth and back of his head as well was many other places. His usually light brown hair had gone a deathly black. Why? You'll have to find out.

Paramedics lifted the boy off the floor and whisked him away to the hospital. He only woke a few times during the trip and he asked the same question over and over again.

Where's Mother and Papa?

Brilliantly bright light blinded Jax for a few seconds as his eyes opened before adapted to it. His usual tanned body had became very pale in his state and Jax's eyes had begun to start sinking into his face. The boy had started a routine in his 3 weeks in the hospital.

Wake up.
Eat half a plate of food.
Be pestered to eat more.
Refuse to eat more.
Go back to sleep.

And repeat. The day this routine fell out of place was the day he was moved to a Hell Hole. Where he wanted to die every single day for a week.