Kappa-Sprite

Drip. Drip. Drip. “Shit.” A blonde teen climbed down from a tree he was picking apples from. He had scratched himself on the bark and hadn’t noticed. He left the basket of apples he had collected next to the tree and rushed inside. His icy blue eyes snaked around the room searching for another life form. When he deemed it safe he calmly walked to the bathroom. Inside the medicine cabinet there were epipens designed especially for him. He injected himself with it and sat by the sink holding a towel to his dripping scrape. Now this boy was special, special in a way he would rather not be. He was a hemophiliac meaning that