This took way longer to write than it should have.

But here's ya go, the scene where Sam and Neil meet/ how Sam loses his eye.

Sam Starling was nine years old today. No one had said 'happy birthday' to him, though. Not even his parents. Sam forgave them- they were dead. You can't talk to the dead unless you're insane.

He was wandering back to his aunt's small house after a day of searching for something, anything to distract him. His aunt Ann was a dreadful woman. She looked like an angry hawk with a personality to match. Sam had been wanting to run away for so long, but had never gathered up the courage. Plus, where would a shy, dorky nine year old stay? He didn't have any friends or relatives he could go to.

Sam looked around furtively and pulled his thin long sleeves over his hands. It was cold out today, despite the technology in the atmosphere that was supposed to keep the planet's temperature warm and constant. He stamped through a puddle, not caring about getting his feet wet. He looked ahead into the dark alleyway. It was too dark, too soon. This shortcut was usually still lit at this time, allowing for pedestrians to take a safe shortcut at the end of the day.

He didn't feel any hints of apprehension when he stepped into the alley. Someone deeper inside chuckled quietly and stepped into the weak light bleeding through from the street.

It was a tall and cruel looking teenager. He must have been around seventeen, Sam thought. He was holding a light bulb in his left hand.

"Looking for this?" the teenager taunted. He threw the bulb in the air and caught it deftly with his fingertips. "Yo, Dodge. Come out here. We've got a friend to play with," the teenager grinned. Another teenager sprung from the darkness. He was much shorter and fatter than his friend, and he was popping his knuckled menacingly at Sam.

Sam turned to run back out of the shadowy alley. "I don't really care about the damn light bulb," he muttered.

The taller teenager grabbed the collar of his shirt and shoved him against the wall. Sam clung to the rough brick to keep from falling, and he faced the two approaching teenagers.

"Dodge," the tall boy said, "I'm bored and in the mood to punch something. You game?"

Dodge grinned, showing yellow, chipped teeth. Sam grimaced and attempted to escape the taller boy's grasp. He was answered with a sharp blow to the stomach.

"Ow!" he screamed. One of the teenagers hit him across the mouth, and he snapped his mouth shut. Any attempt to break away was met with another blow.

Sam had retreated deep into his mind and attempted to block most of the pain out. The two teenagers kept hitting him hard and all over his body, but he was numb and half-unconscious.

"Stop!" someone shouted from the mouth of the alley. Dodge and his tall friend jumped, surprised and looked at the newcomer. Sam opened his eyes and tried to see past the blood that was dripping into his eyes from his scalp.

The newcomer was tall but obviously young. Maybe as young as Sam. He didn't know. The boy had black hair and a deep scowl on his face. Sam gasped. The boy was running towards his attackers. He viciously punched Dodge in the stomach, which really pissed the taller teenager off. He searched frantically on the alley floor for a weapon, either not caring or not noticing that the new boy was coming for Sam.

His grip was surprisingly firm but gentle, and Sam let himself be led back out of the alley. He was only barely conscious, and couldn't fight back even if he wanted to.

"Don't panic," Sam heard the boy say to him.

Evidently, the teenager had found a weapon. Sam opened his mouth to shout a warning to the boy rescuing him, but he was cut off by an almost unbearable pain blossoming on the left side of his head.

Sam only had the time to register the fact that he was bleeding a lot before everything went black.

"Finally; he's awake. I thought he wasn't going to make it. His eye definitely won't," Someone said. Sam groaned and tried to move his head. He couldn't see anything out of his left eye.

"Where am I?" he whispered. His throat felt scratchy and raw, and he couldn't move his arms or legs.

There was an older woman standing next to his bed. She looked like a doctor, but Sam had no clue how he got into the hospital in the first place. The day before was a blur, and he only remembered small flashes.

"I was attacked in… the alley," he slurred.

"You're in the hospital now, sweetie," the doctor said, putting a cool hand gently on his forehead. "You're safe."

She smiled sweetly at Sam, and he drifted back to sleep.

Several hours later, Sam woke again to find a tray of food laying across his lap. On it was a letter. He picked it up gingerly, glad to be able to move his arms and read it.

Try to eat, please. Someone will come and ask you a few questions later.

The food was grated down into crunchy shavings. Sam cautiously took a bite, and found that it was actually pretty good. He couldn't determine what the flavor was, though. It was vaguely tomato-like, but also tasted like some sort of meat. He shrugged and quickly ate the rest.

Almost as if on cue, the doctor he had seen earlier crept into the room at the same moment he put the fork back on the tray.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked in a sugary voice. Sam nodded, and she spoke again. "What's your name, dear?"

"Sam," he said automatically. His throat was aching, probably from eating so fast and whatever happened to it yesterday. He could still only see out of his right eye. "Sam Starling."

"Good," the doctor smirked, showing perfect, almost startling white teeth. "Do you have any parents?"

Sam shook his head. "I live with my aunt, but she could care less about me."

The doctor looked genuinely sorry for him. "I'm sorry, Sam. Arrangements will need to be made if you're going to leave here with all the medications you'll need. What's your aunt's name?"

"Ann Starling," Sam replied. The doctor nodded at his and began rapidly typing on a tablet she had been carrying in her pocket.

"I'm sorry, but your aunt said that she doesn't want to continue taking responsibilities for you," the doctor intoned. "Do you have any close friends you can stay with until we find you an adoptive family. What about the boy who brought you back here yesterday? Were you close with him?

So that's how I got here, Sam thought wryly. He shook his head.

"Two teenagers were beating me up for no reason in an alley, and he saved my life. I had never even seen him before then," Sam said.

The doctor looked completely immersed in thought as she took Sam's tray and began retreating through the door. "If you need anything," she informed him, "just press the red button closest to your head."

"Wait!" Sam called. "Are you not even going to tell me what all my injuries were?"

No one answered, and he sunk back into the small bed. The thin blankets were pulled down all the way to his knees, revealing a thin hospital gown. Sam heard a small sound, and looked up curiously. Someone, probably a doctor or nurse, was knocking on the door.

The boy who had saved Sam's life the day before strode into the room. He stopped at the foot at the bed and regarded Sam quietly.

"You saved my life," Sam remarked. "Thank you."

The boy smiled cynically and ran his fingers through his black hair. "It was my pleasure. I'm Neil."

"Sam," he grinned.

Yay, I guess.