Chapter Text
"I... I know... I understand what you’re trying to tell me, and I’m grateful for your... kindness, for trying to warn me about the boy... But I am not willing to change my mind." A young voice echoed faintly from behind the door, its timbre betraying anxiety and discomfort.
Even from within the room, his nervous stammers resonated through the cold, empty corridor of the orphanage. The office door was made of old wood and the walls were thin; everything said inside could easily be overheard from the outside. But that didn't seem to bother "him."
A small boy sat in one of the five chairs beside the door, his feet perfectly together, posture straight, face neutral. His small, battered suitcase—meticulously cleaned—rested by his side, not as full as it appeared to be.
His clothes were church donations, barely fitting his frame, yet they were arranged neatly enough to make a good impression. His black hair was carefully combed, his face clean, his cheeks slightly sallow, his body thin.
It was no surprise that the children of that orphanage were so gaunt. Following the Great Depression, funding for many such institutions had been slashed... A decent meal was a rare luxury in times like these.
"Mr. Evans, I know you aren't inclined to change your mind, but I truly want you to know what you are taking home... That... That creature is simply malevolent." Mrs. Cole’s nasal voice sounded as irritating and loathsome as ever; one could easily imagine the expressions the woman was making. They were likely a mix of contempt, disgust, and dread.
"I’ve known him since he slid from the womb of that... woman... That thing isn't human. Always tormenting the other children with his devilish tricks, speaking the devil's tongue. He may seem like a polite young man, but deep down, he is ready to stab you in the back," the matron warned. But no matter how many times she spoke of how despicable the child was, he would not waver.
"Do you truly wish to adopt the boy?"
"Yes."
"We have other children in the orphanage—good, well-behaved, benevolent children. I’m certain many of them would love to have a father like you, and wouldn't even mind helping you with your... physical incapacity... Many of them are hard workers; they could help you with the house, the garden, your work!"
"I want to adopt a child, not a slave... Look, Mrs. Cole, as I said before, I think it’s kind of you to be so concerned. However, I must state again that I will not change my mind. I can handle a child, whether he is problematic or not."
The child sitting outside tilted his gaze slightly toward the door. The room remained silent for a few moments... followed by the sound of a drawer being pulled and papers being shuffled.
"Here are some documents you need to sign... and the boy's records."
Silence fell over the room once more... The faint scratching of a pen whispered through the walls for several seconds. The boy remained motionless.
"Very well... I hope you are happy with your choice..."
"I am already content."
"... I shall escort you to the door."
It seemed the conversation was over. The boy stood up from the chair and gripped the handle of his suitcase tightly.
The door finally opened. Out stepped a woman, her golden hair carefully pinned in a bun, her clothes—always dark and long—perfectly pressed and clean. Even in poverty, Mrs. Cole did not neglect her earrings and necklaces, betraying the vain woman she had always been. Her expression, as usual, was cold and disgusted as she looked at the boy.
Right behind her was his new legal guardian.
A young man, no more than twenty-one years old. He was much better dressed than the last time, though his dark hair remained as messy as ever, as if he had just stepped out of a gale. His clothes were slightly rumpled, but this time they actually fit his body. His dark, oval glasses served as a frame for his green eyes—a shade of green so distinct it matched his unusual appearance.
Yet, of all these features, the most striking was the rustic cane he used for support. His gait was slightly clumsy; clearly, his left leg was an issue. Were it not for the cane, he could have easily passed for a healthy young man.
"Have you got everything?" Mrs. Cole asked, looking the child up and down.
"Yes, ma'am," the boy said calmly, never taking his eyes off the man.
The man offered a small smile, his eyes looking as tired as they had during their first meeting.
"Are you ready, Tom?" His voice was quiet, like a whisper. It seemed as though speaking any louder might disturb someone or draw more attention than he already did.
"Yes, sir," the little boy, Tom, affirmed again with a neutral expression. Though his fingers were clenching the handle of his suitcase so hard his knuckles turned white.
"Then let's go home," the man said in a more neutral tone. After taking a deep breath, he stepped toward Tom and began walking to the great door of the orphanage.
Tom simply nodded, walking beside his legal guardian. He watched the man's limping stride, the way he gripped the cane tightly, how his leg buckled slightly every few steps.
His gaze remained focused on this enigmatic creature he had met only a few months prior... He didn't care to look back; he didn't care for Mrs. Cole, who watched them depart until they turned the corner.
Ignoring completely the hellish place he had lived in since his birth...
Now... he was free.
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This chapter is just a premise. The next one will be much longer and will go into even more depth. I hope you enjoyed it :) I'll post chapter 2 soon.