The mysteries began before Xander had even been born. Not long after his mother became pregnant, she would feel regular, sharp pains. Far more excruciating than would occur during a natural pregnancy. As he gradually developed at a seemingly normal rate, his little kicks and bumps would leave dark bruises on her belly.
Every time she ate, her stomach would clench tightly, as if giant hands were pushing down on her.
Any drink, even the freshest of waters would feel like nails scraping down her throat.
It got so bad, at one point she considered getting an abortion. The fact that it wasn't a planned pregnancy didn't help either.
Already in a tight situation with their families on both sides, they didn't dare contact them for help. Doctors would tell her she was exaggerating, thanks to having an already confirmed history of delusional behaviour. Only his father believed her, watching helplessly as she suffered day after day.
Until finally, her water broke. Three weeks early. While being rushed to the hospital by a terrified and frantic husband, the pain overwhelmed the fragile woman beyond belief. She passed out within minutes and was dreary throughout the birth. Though she couldn't ever forget that pain.
Screaming while giving birth was, of course, perfectly normal. All babies born are a wonderful, yet agonising birth.
But Xander's mother had never imagined pain like this. She was utterly silent, hardly able to breathe, nurses trying to force oxygen in her constantly. With bloodshot eyes, all the broken screeches of bloody agony seemed trapped in her chest.
Even so, the moment she held her little boy for the first time, she didn't regret a single moment of it.
Nothing about him seemed particularly different at first, other than how eerily little he cried.
The small, black dot went unnoticed by anyone. Neither his parents nor the doctors gave it any consideration. Just a mole, they thought, nothing more.
While they loved him with every fibre of their being, the tiny youth only brought further problems once they arrived home. The doctors had been suspecting that Xander's mother had been bruising her own body in distress, even mentioned perhaps having the child removed.
However, it was exactly nine days after the birth that the worst of it came.
While changing him into his new, handsewn baby clothes, his mother's eyes were drawn to the dot on her baby's chest.
It was different.
Though the change was slight, she noticed nonetheless. Tiny, pinprick lines moving outward from the dot.
That evening, while she rocked Xander to sleep with a hushed lullaby, there was a loud knock at the door. Immediately, she was unnerved.
They didn't talk to other people in the neighbourhood, they never had guests.
A salesman, perhaps?
Who was she kidding, it must have been close to midnight already.
She stood atop the stairs, holding Xander tight against her chest while his father hesitantly opened the door.
There stood three utter strangers. Two men and a woman, all unusually tall with broad shoulders. Wearing smart clothes, tight, grey suits without ties.
She didn't remember much of what they said, but each word she could sent an icy shiver down her spine.
"Don't panic, we don't want to hurt you." The tallest man spoke like a robot, no emotion behind those shadowy eyes, "So long as you comply, there won't be any problems. Just hand over the child and we'll be on our way."
Of course they refused, praying that this was some sort of twisted joke. But the strangers insisted.
"You don't know what he is. You've noticed the markings, right? You must give him to us or we'll have to take him by force."
