Zero

There once was a boy named Zero, and he was named so because his parents thought he would never amount to anything at all.

Zero was a lonely boy, and with every passing year and every passing chance, he grew lonelier and he did not like that one bit. And with every passing month and every passing holiday, he grew more aware of the fact that his parents were right when they named him those nineteen years ago.

His bedroom was white. All of it, white. Zero hated the color white. And whenever he sat in his bedroom, he became angry and he would think of his parents, and he would know that they were just downstairs, and he would stop himself from making a ruckus because they would punish him.

Zero's parents did not allow him to leave the house. They did not allow him to move out. They did not allow him to go to university. High school was long over. Zero had graduated almost two years earlier than his peers. He was a very smart boy.

Zero was always picked on in school. He was picked on because of his parents' restrictions, but whenever he thought about that he would get angry and he would stay in his room anyway. He never snuck out of the house, and he never did anything against his parents' wishes.

Zero was always a good boy. He never disobeyed or talked back. He did all of his chores the day they were given to him and he never made a fuss about not receiving any allowance or privileges.

And on the days when Zero would come home from a rough day of being teased in school, his mother would smile.

"You will never amount to anything." She would always say.

And on the days when he came home with a bloody nose or a black eye or a broken finger, his father would smile.

"You will always be a zero." He would always say.

And Zero knew that. He would never achieve anything good, and he would never make history, and he would never be loved.

Zero was okay with that.