He wrung his hands as he stood outside the pizzeria. He looked all around, nervous. If she caught him, there was no telling what would happen. Usually, it was okay for him to wander the town - she didn't care - but not when he looked the way he did now. His school uniform was pressed and clean. He'd worn the new shoes she bought him. All the teachers had complimented him on them. Not a hair was out of place on his head. But there was no mistaking the scabbed-over cuts and yellowing bruises littering his arms and legs.

He wasn't allowed out until they had healed enough to go unnoticed, but he had to get away. He had to visit his favorite place. His mother would be furious when she found he wasn't waiting for her at school. She always was - furious, that is. When she caught up with him, it meant another beating. He didn't care. He'd grown used to them. He didn't even cry anymore. He only cried when he visited Freddy's, his favorite place - the place he retreated to when she hit him.

Lately, he couldn't quite remember what the place looked like. The scent of fresh pizza that hung in the air. The colorful decorations. The happy faces of other children, laughing and screaming with joy, darting under and around the tables. He loved the mascots the most. The bear, the chicken, the bunny and the fox. His mother had bought him every plush.

A family entered, and the smell of birthday cake wafted out. His stomach rumbled. He pressed his face and hands to glass, tears streaming down his face.

000

William watched the boy from his car. It wasn't often he came to visit the pizzeria, but when he did he would always stand outside and cry. His mother - a shrewdly dressed woman with a tight bun at the top of her head and perpetual scowl - would arrive sometime later and drag him into her car. The way she twisted his arm to get him to move. The way he thrashed and screamed. It was more than just a frazzled mother dealing with her unruly child. It was perfect for him.

When the boy returned the next week, William made his move. By now, the boy's mother knew to come straight to Freddy's, so there was no time to waste. As he stalked up behind him, he noted the dark areas around his neck that his sweater failed to hide. It was an expensive, much like all his clothes. Name-brand jeans and sneakers - his mother made sure he was dolled up at all times. But his eyes weren't those of a child who lived a life of luxury, who returned to a castle filled with toys at the end of each school day.

He was rescuing this child. Freeing him from the hell that was his life. He would no longer have to cry. No more bumps or bruises. He'd be in heaven all little angels belonged. William smiled as he knelt down to muss the boy's hair. As nervous as he was, he followed the nice man into the alley beside the pizzeria. He said promised to hide him there from his mother - that no one would hurt him ever again.

A/N: I wrote this really fast yesterday afternoon. It's not very well-written, and I could have been more descriptive, but I'm just glad to have published something in such a long time. Hopefully, someone likes it.