It had been said that the place was cursed, so much that people also feared and were reluctant to even pronounce its name. It had been said that the fog, perennial and constant and virtually endless, wrapped in its cloak anyone who dared to cross the border: no one had never made return, no one had ever been able to tell what was inside. No one had ever been able to confirm if that legend, told from mouth to mouth, heard from ear to ear, was true. Since its birth a few years before, that myth had been changed and transformed depending on who was telling the story: there were those who preferred to describe it as the crime that no one had ever solved; there were those who, however, preferred to embroider on the more gory details, drawing the figure of a beast in human features, although it wasnr17;t its fur coat to terrorize or those sharp claws to be always careful of. It was only a scar to strike terror, a disfigured face which no one felt sorry or pity but preferred, however, to accuse of the most terrible of crimes. An accident had been turned into murder, a broken family had been proclaimed instead killed by the beast that was now hiding in the forest.

On that gray night, damp because of that drizzle that was able to get underneath the clothes and bathed the skin, Nick Carter wasnr17;t paying much attention to those rumors. To be honest, he had never given them much importance, maybe because he himself had long been the subject of gossip and had been hit with lies about him. That legend had little importance when he found himself on the ground and blocked under his own bike with no chance to break free and with the knowledge that no one would ever come that way. If he had the chance, Nick would had punched himself with his own fists if he didnr17;t have the helmet: what had crossed his mind to take the bike and go out on a day like that? In his defense, however, he could say that the storm had begun to move only when he had already taken the bike and the city was just a speck on the horizon. Entering the forest had been an impulsive decision, there had been attached no importance or second thought, although the ground, already slippery and the rain, had very different intentions and it had been enough that the front wheel would stumble on a semi hidden root to find himself on the ground, trapped and sore.

 Kevin is so gonna kill me. - Nick began to mutter to himself. - If I donr17;t die from the cold, if I manage to go home, Kevin will kill me for sure. After a lecture that would end the next day but her17;s so gonna kill me!r1;

A flash broke new ground in the fog, quickly followed by the roar of thunder. In the echoes, however, crept another sound, the sound of footsteps treading leaves and twigs. "Letr17;s hope itr17;s not the wolves." Nick prayed while, trembling, he waited and listened to those steps coming nearer and nearer. He closed his eyes , or maybe it had been the fear to make them close,  preventing him at least to meet the gaze that would haunt him even after his death. The footsteps grew closer, along with the sound of heavy breathing, like that of someone who had just run to reach that spot. His lips barely moved, just started the first syllable of a prayer, when the weight of the bike began to fade and only then Nick opened his eyes, finding himself against the figure of a person who was trying to free him.

"Can you move? - The voice was struggling to rise above the noise of the wind but had a warm tone and the slight echo accent of the South - I cannot move it at all but I can hold it while you get free."

Perhaps it was because of the blow he took in the fall but it took a moment for Nick to realize what that man had just said to him. He blinked as he tried to move the body and luckily the only real flame of pain seemed to come from his right ankle, which brought a breath of relief. With his elbows on the ground, he began to slide backwards, relying on the knee of the leg almost healthy.

" Ok, I'm free. " Not knowing the reason, Nick found himself yelling those words. The man dropped the bike, the impact of which vibrated until it reached the boy still sitting on the ground. Now finally free, Nick took off his helmet, noting with relief that he had no bumps or open wounds. He could live with that accident, if his worst injury was simply an ankle. It could had been worse.

"Can you walk? Soon the storm will reach us and I donr17;t think itr17;s safe to stay here in the cold. My house is not far away..."

The stranger had approached and knelt so that Nick could hear him above the thunders. Even with the intermittent flashes of light, even squinting his eyes, he still couldnr17;t focus on the details of the face of the person who had saved his life: he wore a jacket much larger than his size and the cap, pulled through the front, hid eyes and hair, if not for the blond reflection during a flash particularly powerful.

Although knowing that he still didnr17;t know the stranger in front of him, Nick didnr17;t think twice about accepting the hand stretched to help him to his feet. A flame of pain, acute and powerful, blazed for the whole leg as soon as his ankle touched ground: he lost his balance but he wasnr17;t about to fall - a sign that, fortunately, the ankle was not broken r11; still, the stranger offered an arm for support. Nick accepted it, it wasnr17;t certainly the time to show courage when the shock and adrenaline were slowly slipping away.

" Thank you. " He muttered only when they began to move away from the accident site. There was silence, as there could be in the middle of a storm, but the stranger's face turned slightly with a hint of a smile. It was a coincidence, it was a stroke of luck: at that very moment, a flash of lightning lit the sky with gold, casting a beam right on his face and on the scar that cut out, albeit mitigated by the smile.

If this man, no a boy since he seemed to be Nickr17;s same age, was indeed the beast so many people loved to talk then those really needed to check the dictionary for the meaning of r0;monstrousr1;.

****

Nick couldnr17;t say how long they had walked. Or rather, how long the other guy had dragged him through the mist and the storm. Eventually, however, they came to a small house hidden by the trees and even that didnr17;t match with the image of the home of a beast: a fence surrounded the perimeter of the small garden, where shrubs, flowers and little trees were perfectly pruned and the grass didnr17;t betray even the slightest sign of weed. A small path led them to the entrance of the house, where the white wood boards didnr17;t seem to have suffered damage from the forces of nature: the small patio was plain, just a simple table and an old rocking seemed to want to remember that someone actually lived in that place forgotten by anyone. The door opened with a creak and Nick shuddered instinctively at the first sign of heat while being pushed to the couch. Unceremoniously he laid down on a comfortable surface, watching as the guy, in silence, moved in front of the fireplace and lighted a fire in a short time, making the room warmer and more welcoming.

Yes. Welcoming, cozy and comfortable. Only with those words Nick could define that room: everything was perfectly in order, everything was clean and, unlike how he had always imagined, there was enough light to defeat any shady corner to hide. And there, Nick could see the imaginary beast of whom people were all terrified. But he couldnr17;t find anything so monstrous in the boy. They had really defined a beast just for that scar? It was true, it was quite eye-catching and it was the first thing on which the eye and attention rested, initiating a series of assumptions and hypotheses about what had caused that sign that stretched along the entire length of the cheek and almost reaching the eyes. But which beast, which monster would stop and help someone in trouble? Which bad and so scary person would carry a stranger in their own homes to help him? And most importantly, scar aside, he looked almost like a kid and much younger than he had initially thought . Yet, his blue eyes betrayed an almost palpable sadness, too big to be able to enclose and conceal within themselves.

"My name is Nick. - He said suddenly, making the boy turning suddenly. - And thank you. For saving me."

" Oh, it was the least I could do."

"Can I at least know the name of my hero?"

The boy's expression from a shy embarrassment, as if he wasnr17;t used to get that kind of thanks, turned into confusion. "Donr17;t you know who I am?"

" I donr17;t listen to rumors."

It almost seemed , for a moment, that the boy had been puzzled by that admission. "Brian. My name is Brian ."

"Nice to meet you, Brian."

A laugh, who felt as little used and prisoner of some kind of chains, broke free while Brian recovered a brown bag from a corner near the fireplace. "Do you have any wound that it is better to treat before it gets worse?"

"Are you a doctor?"

"I used to be. - Brian replied with a sad smile. - I was also good, or so they told me. I liked it. But few people allowed themselves to be treated by me after the accident so what is the point in continuing to do my job if I had no one to be healed?"

What could Nick say in that case? Every word of comfort seemed to be driven by compassion and pity and, of course, if the roles had been reversed, he would hadnr17;t appreciated them. "The ankle. - Nick opted for a much more practical side. - Apart from a few bruises and scratches on my hands, the ankle is the one that gives me the most trouble."

"As you were able to walk, I think we can rule out that it is broken." Brian began to say while, with the caution and care that the hands of a doctor could get, he took off Nickr17;s shoe and sock, bringing to light a ankle decidedly more swollen than normal. He touched it, he turned the ankle from side to side, satisfied that he could move it without any more pain. "Definitely not broken. A bandage and ice should be sufficient. Also painkillers. Do you have some particular allergy?"

Nick shook his head. "No, not that I know."

"We hope to be lucky then. - Brian countered with a joke as he began to wrap Nickr17;s ankle. - I believe that itr17;s better if you spend this night on this couch, even though I know that is not exactly comfortable. Unless ..."

"Unless what?"

Brian shrugged, lowering his face to hide the shadow that had appeared in his eyes. "Unless you donr17;t want to stay here. I have a car but I hardly use it..."

"Why should I want to leave?" Nick went on to ask in a confused tone.

"Other people would have already run away." Brian replied in a whisper.

"Those are also assholes . - It was the answer to Nick, through gritted teeth because of the ankle. And not only because of that. - So do you always stay here alone?"

"It 's my curse. Not everyone is afraid of me, even if they are only a couple of old ladies that still let me treat them. By the way, do you need to call someone? I donr17;t have a phone but I can always send them a note or something."

Right. He would have to tell Kevin. Maybe, in that case, he could avoided being killed. "Yes, better let them know that Ir17;m not dead."

"O kidnapped and eaten by a monster." It was a joke and they both found themselves to smile even though there were so many people that wouldnr17;t think twice to believe it and to pass it as a truth.

****

The days had passed away with speed, leaving Nick surprised because, stuck with that ankle, he had imagined of passing them bored and counting the seconds that separated him from being finally ready to go home. It didnr17;t happen because Brian had turned out to be a good company, despite the absence of a television. They had gathered to talk about each of their childhood, embarrassing moments that had made them laugh until they had tears in their eyes and, as their friendship began to get bigger and tighter, that scar on Brianr17;s face began to lose its importance and attention, becoming just a pale physical detail as it could be the extra pounds or a bad hairdo.

There was still only a shadow that crept into their conversations. Nick never investigated, leaving it alone when Brian hinted at a blurry picture of his family, but his curiosity was always unsatisfied. He couldnr17;t believe that explanation, he didnr17;t want to believe to the legends that were enriched with details as they passed from person to person. He couldnr17;t and wouldnr17;t believe that Brian, the Brian that he was knowing and that he had discovered possessing an innate talent for imitation, could be the terrible man who had killed his wife and his son. But no matter how much his curiosity didnr17;t let him in peace, the question of what had really happened was always a prisoner inside his lips.

"There must be another way." Nick found himself thinking aloud, without worrying that Brian could hear him since he was out. Boredom and be forced to remain almost motionless was driving him crazy, especially considering that there wasnr17;t much opportunity for driving out the boredom away.

Driven by curiosity so Nick decided to do a tour of the house. He already knew it wouldnr17;t last long , since the house stretched out over a single floor and it wasnr17;t really a castle or a villa. He had already seen much of it: the living room,  the kitchen and the bathroom plus a small glimpse of Brianr17;s room.

Only a room was left, a door that had remained closed and that Brian had glossed over when Nick asked him what it was. "Only a closet. Hey, you still owe me that rematch in Monopoly!"

Still hopping since his mind still wasnr17;t sure that he would not feel pain if he supported the ankle to the floor, Nick headed towards that last room, located down the hall. A little voice, that unforgettable consciousness that always appeared suddenly, tried to stop him and reminded him that going around snooping wasnr17;t fair to Brian. But, just as he had always done, Nick drove it where it had come from, mentally shrugging his shoulders and said simply that it was just a look. He would just open the door and, once seen that it was just a closet, he would closed it and would go back to be bored on the couch. Also, Brian had never explicitly told him not to enter, even if those words had been spoken through body language, that shyness that made strain the muscles of the back.

"Just look. r11; Nick said. - Only a look and then I'm leaving." His hand tightened around the handle, turning it to open the door. This creaked opened, leaving that room talking on its own: it was dark and stale air and the smell of closed which told of how many times someone came in there. Groping, Nick was able to find the power switch located on the right and couldnr17;t put the brakes at that strangled sound that escaped out of his lips, when the light finally lit and allowed him to show off what was in front of him. Almost the entire floor was covered with a carpet of a faint blue color, a color that drew even more clear of the walls, with touches of white, were to represent a summer sky. Scattered, left in the position in which they had been thrown the last time they were used, plush toys told the childhood of a child loved and pampered by their parents. A childhood suddenly interrupted. On a shelf in front of the bed photographs and pictures drew a book of memories that no one, at least not in recent times, had observed. Nick moved toward them, taking the first in his hands: it was a picture of Brian with the child to whom the room belonged. Father and son were smiling to the camera lens and the undoubted similarity between the two made the child looked like he could be a younger version of Brian: the same blue eyes, the same smile and the same expression of natural happiness.

"I had just taught him to pull the baseball. He loved playing sports. Just like me. r0; The voice behind him startled Nick, an half heart attack because, lost in his exploration, he hadnr17;t realized Brianr17;s presence.

"I'm sorry, I didnr17;t intend to poke or snoop around...r1; Nick apologized immediately, placing back the picture and turning around.

Brian was still standing on the edge of the door, as if undecided whether to go in or not. "I havenr17;t been in this room... - The voice paused, his eyes closed for a second. - ... since the accident."

"Have you always lived here?"

A laugh eased the tension for a moment. "No, definitely not. My wife and I discovered this ruined house a few years ago and loved it so much to buy it and put it back on track . We used to come in the summer or whenever we wanted to be alone. Not far from here there is a small pond, I wanted to teach Josh to fish when he would become a bit ' bigger." Brian 's voice cracked at the end, letting out a solitary and silent sob.

"How did it happen?"

The question caught Brian by surprise. Nobody, apart from some person immediately after the accident, had ever asked him his side of the story, assuming that the rumors flying around were drawn from a bottom of truth. "We were returning from a trip. I know no one believes me, I know they keep saying that there was no one that night but us but... I'm sure about how it happened. - His hands tightened into fists, nails found their victim in the skin of the palm and his eyes were closed, leaving him trapped by images of afar -too-real nightmare. -  Another car suddenly appeared, I tried to swerve but ... the last thing I remember is the cry of my wife. I tried to save them but it was too late. And maybe that's why I hid here. A part of me is convinced that they are right, it's my fault if they are dead. My punishment. My curse. To survive. And be left completely alone."

At that moment, Nick would had wanted to hug the guy. Even if he still knew little about, although it was still too early to speak of friendship, the only way that Nick had to respond to that pain was open his arms and wrap that broken man in an embrace that wanted to say that he wasnr17;t alone. Nick watched Brian, however, as he raised his fists to the eyes and blotted away the tears, living only a visible expression of embarrassment and shame mixed with the pain. "You are not alone." It was all Nick managed to say.

"But you will go away soon. - Brian murmured in a whisper. - And I'll be left here. Alone. With my curse.r1;  He wanted to take back those words as soon as they left his mouth, dictated by a instant of weakness that had caught him in the moment of greatest vulnerability. But those days with Nick... those days were a small breach in the dark world in which his life had changed since the accident. For the first time, a person had treated and seen him as any other human being, without giving an account of the scar that marred him or taking account of what people had said about him. He liked Nick, he liked his company and , above all, he had easily accustomed to having someone to talk to instead of the ghosts of his past.

"Come with me." Nick offered, without even thinking about it.

"Donr17;t joke."

"I'm not kidding. After all, what have you got to lose?"

The fear. The fear to come out of hiding and face the real world in which he had lost his place. The fear of having to face once again looks suspicious, the evil whispering and barely veiled accusations in the eyes of the people. "I donr17;t think it's a good idea."

"If anyone dares to tell you something, theyr17;ll have to deal with me. - Nick assured him, in a tone between threatening and joking. - But you should give the world a chance to see you for who you really are. When you smile, no one looks at the scar."

"Thank you. - Brian replied with a smile wet with emotion . - Are you sure your family wouldnr17;t be bothered?"

"Sure."

Brian gave a last look at the room, letting slip off the end of pain that rose as he watched every object. "What else I have to lose?"

Nick nodded in satisfaction . "That 's what I said. "

******

Nervously, Brian lowered even more the visor of his cap as he and Nick approached the house of the latter. It was strange to finally be out of that forest, almost he had forgotten how the sky in summer could be tinged with that unique and special shades of blue or how hot the sun's rays could be if they werenr17;t hindered by the branches of trees. It was strange and, at the same time, it was also a mixture of anxiety, trepidation and fear that made him slow down the pace and stay a few feet behind Nick. What if he would insulted? What if he would be mocked, ridiculed and asked to go back where he came from, there in that forest that had concealed his every secret? The closer he got to the steps, the more his heart continued to beat more and more furiously.

"Hey, it'll be fine . - Nick assured him, shaking his shoulders. r11; Theyr17;re not going to eat you."

Brian frowned. "And this should comfort me?"

"Yes."

"If you say so..."

Nick couldnr17;t answer because the door opened just then, and without giving him time to say something, he found himself submerged in a hug. "Nickholas!"

The arms belonged to a man taller than Nick, with black hair. It was all Brian could see, because his face was hidden by the collar of Nickr17;s jacket. Yet something in his voice reminded Brian of something, even if only for one accent so similar to his own.

"My name is Nick, I hate when you call me Nickholas!"

"We were worried."

r0;Ir17;ve sent a message. It's just a sprained ankle."

"Are you sure? Maybe it's better if we took you to the hospital, just to be sure that..."

Nick interrupted him immediately. "I have already got a doctor who visited me."

"Where?"

"The one who saved me is a doctor."

Brian chose that moment to make notice of his presence. "I was a doctor. But the fundamentals of first aid are not easily forgotten."

It happened in an instant. Nickr17;s friend raised his face, finally noticing his presence. It was like being suddenly transported into the past, days spent playing and coming up to be cowboys and Indians. Scenes of family gatherings mingled together, cropping the breath in both boys . "Brian? - Kevin muttered stunned the exact moment when Nick was to present the boy. - Is it really you ? "

"Kevin?" Asked Brian, who was also totally shocked and surprised.

Nick looked from one to the other, in disbelief of what was happening: he seemed to have entered in one of those television programs where relatives, who hadnr17;t seen each others for years, were brought together in a sea of r03;r03;tears and hugs. Aside from those last two elements, Brian and Kevin were observing each others as if they couldnr17;t believe their eyes but still couldnr17;t make a step to move and approach . "You know each other?"

"We were told you were dead." Kevin didnr17;t even seem to hear Nickr17;s question.

"In a sense, I was." Brian replied, looking down so they couldnr17;t catch a glimpse of the shadow that was, of course, obscuring his eyes.

"Seriously . - Nick chimed again, taking away attention from new friend. - You know each other?"

"We were... we are cousinsr03;r03;."

r0;Oh. Oh."

"Yeah."

Nick looked back at Brian. "Why didnr17;t you tell me that you already know him?"

Brian laughed. "But I didnr17;t even know that you two were friends, let alone leaving together!"

Nick was about to reply, as if Brian couldnr17;t connected with his cousin that Kevin of which he had spoken to him? How many other people Brian knew with those eyebrows? So, Nick was about to reply but the appearance of the other two friends Howie and Aj, r03;r03;interrupted any conversation.

" Nick! So you didnr17;t got eaten by the beast!" Aj exclaimed, clapping his hand against Nick 's shoulder. Howie confined only to a hug because the most of attention was attracted by the unknown guy who almost tried to hide behind Nick.

"I see you've brought home a foundling."

Nick smiled. "Actually, he was the one who found me."

A smile, shy and awkward, replied to that line. "I'm the famous beast. - Brian joked, stepping forward. - And there are too many bones in Nickr17;s body!"

A long moment of silence fell upon all the people gathered in the room: every breath was perfectly audible and distinguishable but they all had in common that small undercurrent of anxiety and trepidation for the reaction to that joke. Brian swallowed, already mentally preparing himself to have to return to what had been home to a few hours before; Nick 's gaze bounced from one to another, asking himself if he should put step in as a mediator, even if he had never been capable of. Kevin and Howie, however, carefully watched that exchange, curious about how it would end.

Aj approached Brian, looking at him one last time. "Hey, this was fun! I like you!"

"Thank you. - Brian murmured, surprised and confused by the gesture. - You're not so bad either."

"Since everyone likes you , and considered that you are part of Kevinr17;s family, can we keep him?" Nick asked, coming from behind Brian and putting an arm around his shoulders, a big grin to light his face.

The phrase, demand, caused the laughter. "Nick , he isnr17;t a dog! You canr17;t take him home like this!" Howie objected, even if his objection was misunderstood by Brian. It was both his anxiety and insecurity prevailing, bringing back with strength and intensity that little voice that had always cryptically murmured that no one would really accepted him once seen his appearance. With eyes reddened by tears, Brian found himself doing a step backwards, driven by the desire to hide from embarrassment and return more quickly to where he came from. He had been a fool to believe that something, for him, could go for the best. Why had him deceived himself so much?

He found himself walking quickly, almost running, but an arm stopped him in his tracks. He didnr17;t dare to turn around so he just stood there, his shoulders rising and falling with tension, anxiety and fear. The snapshot brought him back a few years before, when he had been stopped in the same way, yes, but only to be obliged to listen to insults and offenses that already had inflicted on himself without the help of anyone else.

"Bri! Bri! Wait! Howie was only kidding! Right, Howie? Tell him!"

"It 's true, I was just messing up with Nick."

The voices of Nick and Howie came muffled at first, made r03;r03;captive by those fighters who were having the best in him. Who was to believe? The decision came from Kevin. "You donr17;t have to stay. Nobody 's stopping you if you donr17;t feel comfortable. But we have nothing against it if you decide to stay. You are my cousin and you have saved Nickr17;s life. Thatr17;s what matters."

Brian turned slowly to those words. "Doesnr17;t it bother? My appearance? Or what they say about me?"

"You told me that it wasnr17;t your fault. And I believe you. - It was not just the tone of Nick dropping the first brick of resistance but the light of total honesty enclosed in his eyes. In front of that sincerity, facing the truth , Brian couldnr17;t help but let go his fears and get that truth closer to his heart. - Look at us. For one reason or another, we were also treated with suspicion or teased . We may not be the monsters, but believe me, some of my hairstyles were screaming to be mocked."

The laughter undid the chains, even if it left a wet trace from the enclosed lump in Brianr17;s throat.

"And letr17;s talk about my tattoos. People usually believe that I hide a knife in my pocket." Aj added.

"And I think Kevin 's eyebrows donr17;t need to even be uttered."

There was no voice and no words that could even begin to explain the emotions that were finally winning on the real monsters who had lived and dwelt in Brian: in a heartbeat, in a bar and an exchange of hands, they found themselves first immobilized, then made prisoners and finally defeated without the possibility of mercy. It had never been so easy and simple as in a fairy tale, where the heroes suddenly found themselves living happily as if nothing of all that had passed had left aftermath and consequences. Brian had lived in a sort of limbo together with those, wishing he could change the past and hating the present, so not expecting anything from the future. And in a flash, just like the scar had originated on his face, it was all erased : he couldnr17;t change who he was, or what people would continue to think and say about him. It no longer mattered, it couldnr17;t have importance or weight when there was the living proof that it could be possible to go over the defects, or the appearance or tics. "Thank you." Brian was able only to mutter before being swamped and suffocated from the Nickr17;s bear hug. It was a single word, but in every single vowel and consonant, there was an important lesson he had learned and wanted to pass on.

"Good. - Nick ruled once concluded the embrace. - Now the most important question."

"And that is?" Countered Brian, wiping with the palm of the hand those tears that had escaped his control.

Nick's expression turned serious, as if Brianr17;s future depended on that answer. "Can you sing?"