Henceforth, the tales of the twisted and tangled life of Elias Gray Lee will be followed, from end to beginning, wrongs and rights, pain and joy. Time will reveal what was left hidden in the past and what will yet be as time travels on. Enjoy the ride! Stay safe.

Welcome, to the tale of the Faceless Bête Noire. A story created from the imagination because of a single character within it to represent the world's hidden pain and to remind myself that no one knows all the trials other people have undergone and will undergo. This is something I decided to create and develop. It isn't meant to mock/harm/offend anyone.

On that note, I do love getting tips on improving my writing style and questions anoug the plot line in general. Just drop a message in my mailbox. Hopefully, I'll actually try to stick with this story.

Introduction: One

'I am demanding that you give me the child!'

'Hell no! You don't even care for him. You're too besotted with your other damn son! The one we didn't even know existed! Just (*) off!"

The shock of the nightmare sent Elias surging up from sleep, blindly struggling to escape the choking sheets and the screaming voices that still plagued him. Just as he was about to be set free from this extensive torture, the blanket grabbed him around the leg, viciously yanking him back. The brutality sent the boy crashing to the hard floor. Dazed, he looked up at the bright strip of light that suddenly rushed in from the sturdy door of his room.

His mother rushed in, her burnt-walnut hair tousled, pyjamas askew. Concerned at the mighty crash she heard from her room, she had made haste to the source of the sound. Frantically, she checked her son to make sure he hadn't cut himself open against anything as he had fallen. Once she was relieved that she had found nothing, she pulled her son close to her and hugged him gently. 'What did you see this time, sweetie?' encouragingly, she asked him the same question, already knowing the heart-wrenching answer.

'Don't worry mum. It wasn't too bad. I'll handle it on my own.'

His mother didn't respond. She squeezed him a little tighter and he returned the gesture, making a feeble attempt to comfort his mother as tears began to soak his clothes. Confused at why his mother was beginning to cry harder, he gently rubbed her back, 'I'm sorry Mummy. I'll try harder,' Elias hesitated briefly before declaring, 'You'll see! I'll be the best decision you ever made!'

Introduction: Two

All he could see was the rush of the barren ground under his feet, the others who were fleeing by his side. All he could hear was the tortured screams of pain that echoed through his mind - the explosions going off. One, after another, after another. Ahead, an imposing building came into view. The compound! Some had already been accepted through the doors, disappearing into the safety it provided.

They were running together. It was the last stretch to their beacon. Mustering his strength, he sprinted with as much energy as he could master, ignoring the rush of the wind as the small weapons shot past his face, throwing up clods of earth and dust as they landed. Ten metres… five…three metres…one! - he was there!

Safe.

The adrenaline rush fading, he barely helped the remainder of the squad rush in. As the doors slowly closed, the effect of the injuries took hold, sapping any strength he had. Unable to hold himself up, he collapsed into the dirt face down, unconscious before he came into contact with the earth that greedily took up the blood that came purging out of open wounds.

"He's out! Call Medevac - come on! We're going to lose the lot!" The camp was equally in a state of calm yet the terror that gripped the voice of every personnel was evident in the strained barks of commands. Up top, rifles manned by various soldiers, injured and not, sought out their opponents, cutting them down. Down below, the medic rushed around from soldier to soldier, struggling to help the injured who lay sprawled across the floor. Some were screaming at the top of their lungs in pain, the sedatives ineffective to soothe their minds. Others lay in silence, either unconscious or struggling to hold onto their fading life.

There was no time to grieve for the other members who were blown up at the start and those whose bodies had been left out, officers determining that it was too risky for soldiers to be sent out. Autopilot. It was the only thing that was keeping the survivors sane.

Lord, help us all.

Chapter 1: Moscow, Russia - 2020

"How about this outfit, Mitya? I quite like these ones." The extraordinarily glamorous woman turned to look in the direction of the two boys, whilst pointing at a top. At their odd twists and spasms of uncertainty, she turned back and requested not only that top but a series of other tops, pants, jackets and accessories. The younger one turned to look at the older for some mutual support, using every possible idea to his advantage.

At first the other refused, shrugging with his hands wide open, hissing under his breath "You know I can't get a word in edgewise. You can't either. This is her specialty - the shopping world." But he eventually relented at the big puppy eyes and coughed slightly, looking away into the distance to gather some composure. "Umm, Roza? Perhaps that is a little too many - okay - a lot too many! Perhaps we could try on fewer clothes… "

"Nonsense Mitya! I should be taking care of you on your trips here. And don't worry Vladik. I got some in your size to try as well. Off to the changing rooms. They'll be bringing the clothes there. Shoo!" Gently pushing her sons, she headed to the changing rooms where an ever-increasing stack of boxes and numbers of clothes on racks now stood. The pair collectively sighed in despair and submissively picked up the first set of clothes and went to change.

'Hmm. I like that on you Vladik. Yes we'll have that. Yes, yes. Oh no, not that Mitya. It's hideous. Please take that away. How about this one? Try this Vladik. Eh. Try this one now. Mmm… No… Oh! Definitely that one. Just look in the mirror. Both my boys are so handsome. Don't you agree? No, no. Don't argue with me. You can't deny it. Just a few more outfits now! That seal-green top and the white trousers. Yes. Try those. And try these trainers as well. Mitya, you really shouldn't have pierced your ears. It's not really manly, is it? But then again, different cultures I guess. Either way, maybe this set will do quite well with the outfit. Vladik, do try to smile. Frowning makes you look old. And try this watch as well… '

By the time they changed into their final outfits, the boys were dragging themselves along, completely spent. It had taken them around about three or four hours with the running commentary. Vlad was wearing black trainers, matching trousers in a skinny size with a loose, olive-coloured hoodie that was obviously from the Chanel section of the store ( considering it had the brand name on the side of both sleeves) and a navy, leather watch. His mother applauded as he exited the changing room, fixing his silver blond hair, 'Perfect, Vladimir! You know what? Don't change out of it yet. Mitya! Coming out?'

Within a couple of seconds, Mitya followed his younger brother out to the same excited applause. 'It looks so nice on you! You sure know how to use clothes to your advantage. Right. Don't change. Just place the clothes you were wearing in that bag and wait a bit.' Roza headed off towards the till, helping the workers to carry some of the bags that were filled with clothes. 'Just add on the cost of what the two are wearing on them right now please.'

6:49

'That's the current time Mitya. Oh God. I love my mother but I swear. Sometimes, she's just too much.' Vlad groaned to the other in misery. Just looking at the set of bags made him feel dizzy. He wouldn't have to carry most of them - probably only one or two. Mitya nodded in silent sympathy and rubbed the back of the other, sympathising in the knowledge that he too would have a couple of bags to carry soon. The remaining three would be carried by the chauffeur who had been mercifully released to treat himself to a break roughly halfway through the session.

…

The way home had been filled with various music, everyone suggesting different songs they preferred to be played. Towards the end, the aimless chat developed into Vlad's recent significant other, 'so-as-to-speak' according to Roza. Vlad himself though had shrank into the corner of the seat, embarrassed by the heavy attention on him. Taking advantage of the moment, Roza continued 'Such a pretty girl with the sweetest personality. You should see a picture of the two together Mitya; I'll show you later. Naturally silver hair, blue eyes - they seem a bit icy, they're that dark - and she takes such good care of herself. Ten out of ten,' The two boys couldn't get a word in edgewise, Vlad was completely mortified and Mitya, thinking it was too much information simply resigned to staring at the floor and considering what he wanted for dinner, 'Much better than his previous one. How long did you date her for? A year?'

Just as it seemed that the topic was taking a new turn, a random question turned up 'Mitya, what's your ideal type? We should find you a girlfriend. I know many girls and Vlad knows some from his school. And seeing how good your Russian is, you won't have a problem with our circle.'

Trying to deflect the question, Mitya gave a more generic response, "Short bobbed hair, slimmer face and smart. Maybe working already? Definitely a kind soul. I'm not overly picky. But it would be ideal if she was of my nationality so we could get along." Hoping that the last phrase would place a small hindrance on his mother's insistence to find a partner. Luckily though, the chauffeur saved them by announcing that they were nearly home and that Roza should call ahead to arrange dinner. Distracted, Roza called immediately to discuss the dinner plans with the housekeeper and cook. Winking at the boys in the backseat with a smile, the driver turned his attention back to the road.

'Oh thank God!' came the fervent whispers

Chapter 2: Moscow, Russia - 2020

Upon their arrival at the stately Manor, the maids rushed out, nearly tripping over their feet in a hurry. Collecting the countless bags, they rushed back into the house, each spreading out in the shared bedroom, foldingly and hanging and shelving the clothes of the two boys. Follow them, the two boys stepped out, one after the other. Though, their destination was the dinner table where the food would soon be served.

The table itself was quite long, enough to fit at least 10 people. Covered in an expensive tablecloth, no doubt handmade, and polished cutlery, accented with freshly picked flowers that gently released a sweet perfume into the air, it was beyond astounding. Chided by Roza, they were pushed off to wash their hands before they would be allowed to return. It was a good thing however. For as they returned, the meal had already been set out: golden syrup turkey, heaped onto a pile of couscous fried with onions and various aromatic herbs.

The two tucked in eagerly, their mother joking, 'It's hard to tell whether you two are eating, or inhaling your food.' The two laughed gently at the joke, slowing down slightly. The meal continued with ordinary chit-chat, primarily between Roza and Mitya.

'So how is school now? Better?' The concerned tone in the woman's voice was unmistakable. Naturally, after the shift, she had been very worried for her son. Though, her husband would have never agreed to having him back home. She understood the reason why, but she felt somewhat guilty and so, had taken the boy under her wing. Often, when her husband was away on trips, she would bring him over and restock his clothes, buy him the necessary utensils for school and occasionally get him to put on some weight.

And despite that, she knew a part of the boy still resented her for what happened. Yet, she could not help admiring the woman who raised him, for she had done an excellent job. Her son was talented in everything. School work, extracurriculars, sports - anything you wanted. And she was proud of that.

The eerie disturbance of the home telephone cut the conversation short. Someone picked up the phone, just as the dessert was served. It was a cheesecake - strawberry flavoured (hence, the pink colour) with freshly made cherry sauce thay dribbled down the side of it. The pools crated on the plates were coagulating as they cooled.

The three had just lifted their spoons as the home telephone was bought over to Roza, with a pained whisper, 'It is for you.' Impatiently, Roza took the phone, curtly reciting the phrase, "Speaking, who is this?" As the person on the other side continued talking, the pallor of the woman's face paled, the spoon falling out of her hands, falling with a clatter on the plate.

Stuttering, it was seconds before she managed to spit out, "Wh-what?!"

Chapter 3: Ulsan, South Korea

It had all started to go wrong as Elias had entered middle school. At first, it was merely a few odd squabbles, maybe a shouting sessions every few months - nothing much. And although the young boy understood how his parents were unhappy, he hadn't reckoned that by the time he has about thirteen, they would divorced. It had been a tough time got him, physically and emotionally. It was almost laughable...

Sharp rays of sunlight stabbed their way through the thin curtain, splashing out into a yellow pool on the wooden floor. Then, amid the silence, the shrill screech of the alarm clock went off. Its wailing rose a young, fair boy of fourteen. Groaning, he threw aside the tattered duvet and got out of his bed, shivering in the cold that have its claws firmly sunk into his room. It was a fake sun then. Rubbing his arms with his hands, he made his way out of the room to the bathroom, teeth chattering in his mouth. He gingerly placed his hand into the water, recoiling as the cold sent a wave through his body. Grimacing, he soldiered through and cupped both hands under the running tap. Splashing the water across his face, he washed away any possible grime. And with it, his drowsiness.

He made his way back into his small room, to change. Now that he was more alert, the slap of his bare feet against the wooden floors seemed more prominent. Pulling his night clothes off, he switched them for his school uniform; slim, back trousers, a starkly white shirt, a checked tie of various shades of silver and a gray jacket. Staring into the mirror, he tucked his shirt in and straightened his tie. A shy smile crossed his face as his reflection stared back. Reaching for his bag that now lay beside his desk, he packed it up with the essentials he needed for the day. He qyizkly zipped up the bag and headed into the kitchen that also served as the dining and living room.

Meanwhile, his desk in the bedroom was piled high with books and stacks of papers. Pencil shavings were neatly collected into a small box that would be emptied, once it was full. A box of tissues also lay at one corner, its contents half empty.

"Mum! Are you home?" No response came. The boy shrugged it off, assuming that she wasn't at home. He opened the kitchen cupboards, his pale skin standing out against the dark shades of burnt orange and auburn. Nothing of substantial consumption really filled the shelves. Just some canned food, ramen and the odd kimchi bottles. Feeling his stomach lurch uncomfortably, the boy forewent breakfast and left his home, locking the entrance behind him. The famiar click of the lock was followed by him shaking the door handle, checking to ensure the door was truly locked.