My name was Clid Jackson, if you think it sounds weird, than it probably is. You see, I was abandoned as a baby at the door of an orphanage. The two that gave birth to me were rather cliché in that way. Clid was a name the head of the orphanage gave me when he decided to take me in. Jackson was the street the orphanage was on, and the name of said orphanage. Jackson Orphanage. All the children at the orphanage unless they had their own name before coming would have their last names be Jackson.
My life in the orphanage wasn’t a good one. Because of my abandonment issues growing up, I was withdrawn and antisocial. Even with the other children of the orphanage. It could be said my life was blessed in a way, as I was able to grow up just fine. I wasn’t abused, I wasn’t stunted by any actions of the orphanage itself. While workers weren’t overly zealous, they weren’t zombies either.
They did their job and went home to their own lives or families. Maybe at one point they were righteous in their beliefs, to give us children a better place than what we could have gotten from our own families. But life drags on and zealousness is beaten down in a nine to five. They helped the children to the best of their ability during work hours.
Physically seen, as time would progress they would stop staying after their shift. It wasn’t a sudden but a gradual process. Only the most naive of the children weren’t able to notice this. Like a vicious cycle, once it became a habit, the children would move away from that person. No longer being able to get the children to open up, their efforts repeatedly ending in failure. The end result was already a foregone conclusion.
Problem was, children aren’t only there during work hours. While to combat this they had multiple shifts, it wasn't the same as a real family. While workers did their best for children, children are more self-centered. Neither could be blamed, however there was forever a rift between the children and workers. While there might be exceptions, the majority of children just felt that workers did their job then went home to their own families. The genuine care they gave was easy to misconstrued as pity. To those with worst life stories than him, they even saw this as spite.
In the current situation, not many people were looking to adopt. Worse yet, rich culture that was talked about on television and papers talked about how they’re great people for adopting foreign children. Why did doing so make them good people? I just don’t understand. Yes taking in children is good, yet you ignore your own backyard, is it because the grass is greener on the other side? As a child, I remember seeing things like this. The only thing that could possibly pop into the children's minds was, why not me?
How could these people be called good people? It was only when one became older did they realize fantasy and reality were different. Only, imagine yourself as a child, alone and afraid. Having caretakers you grow close to, and they abandon you for their own lives or family. Now you see a person that is rich and famous. They get praised to high heaven for adopting children, only they abandon their supposedly own people for outsiders. Therefore, could it be said they were worse than outsiders that were normally shunned as not belonging?
Obviously, as a child most weren’t that irrational. Even I wasn’t that bad. While I was withdrawn and antisocial, I know I wasn’t alone in this sentiment. Unlike me, most of the children grew out of that phase. Older I got, the more I hated those around me. Hate might be too strong of a word, only my being continued to get worse in being withdrawn and even more antisocial.
By the time I was eighteen and was forced to move out of the orphanage, I rarely talked to others unless spoken to first. Luckily for me, one of the older children that made something of himself would offer all the children of the orphanage a place to work. The work was hard, but it paid. I didn’t have to go looking for it, and it came to me. So I was more than happy to not have to go looking for it.
By the time I was twenty, all I would do was go to work then come home. I rented a cheap apartment five blocks away from the workplace. Most would consider it extremely dull, however to me, I liked the dull boring and could pass the time by escaping from reality through books.
Unfortunately, nothing lasts forever. When I was twenty-five, the owner of the moving company could no longer support all the kids that were from the orphanage. And he had to fire a bunch of people. I was lucky as he was my best friend, we met when we were both at the orphanage. It was because of this I was able to stay. I knew he was looking after me even more now than he was before at the orphanage.
To me, he was really a big brother and I could say that even at the orphanage, he would help me when I was growing up. He was six years older than me. While I didn’t like to talk, he would blabber on and on about something he saw on television. Or he would talk about how nice it was if he was a part of the family he saw outside. While I wouldn’t say much, just having someone to listen to his gripes made us close.
While I wouldn’t say much out loud, that didn’t mean I didn’t say anything. I would often use to talk to myself, sounds a little scary, but I am happy to admit so long as I talked to myself no one else has ever answered back. At least not back then. We shared the same gripes, so maybe listening to him was somehow an outlet for me. So I didn’t have much of a problem listening to him go on and on. Most of the other children found him annoying and would avoid him. This led us to being together a lot. And for that not being fired, I could look back and be happy about those good times.
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After having to fire a bunch of people from the orphanage, it didn’t get much better. While those of us still there did what we could to help. We would go around, posting advertisements to nearby apartment complexes and surrounding buildings. It never seemed to be enough. Slowly, the size of the company kept getting smaller.
Some would be lucky to find different work somewhere else. Others tried to stay until they had to leave to look for other work, as he couldn’t pay us as we had no work. Slowly, the number of people showing up continued to dwindle until there were only a few of us left. By this point, we all knew it was over.
This company was never great, it never made any of us even well off. Yet, knowing there was a place that wanted us after becoming eighteen and being forced to leave the one place we called home for our entire lives. It was a strange, warm feeling that many of us don’t get to feel often, if we had ever felt it before. There were a few children that were adopted before eighteen, however those were few and far in between.
If there were twenty-three children at the orphanage at any given time, we would be lucky if one or two of us were adopted. Most of the children that were adopted weren’t there for long and even if they were, they were bright like the sun. Somehow in the darkness we called life they could continue to smile even in the worst of times. As if to reward them for their perseverance, they would sooner or later be adopted.
For most of the children that had these dispositions, adoption seemed to be an option. Though there were some that still didn’t get adopted with such dispositions. There were still twelve children that were adopted in the eighteen years I was there.
When I first woke up in that room, I had forgotten my memories. I once said I would never forget that day, surprisingly I did. But this memory persists to chase me down, even after I forgot it. Still, it came back. That morning was a hateful morning. Everything seemed so perfect. I remember checking the weather and seeing that it was nice and wouldn’t be raining. It was a day when it felt like 80 degrees. While there was a significant breeze.
Most would feel this is too hot, but at the orphanage we didn’t have the luxury of air conditioning. So while 80 to most would be hot, in a place that could reach triple digits it was perfect. Walking to work, the slightly warm weather would give the wind this very faint warmth that would cool you off and keep you warm at the same time. This was a feeling I truly got used to and very much so enjoyed.
The distance between work and home wasn’t very long, still, not extremely short either. It was a bit windy for the entire walk. I could feel that loving breeze I enjoyed. Even if the days weren’t great and hardship was around every corner, a new day was somehow optimistic. Finally reaching the door to the office, I had a rare smile on my face. The door was locked, but I could proudly say my boss was my best friend, even if he was my only friend. But that sounds depressing, so let's go with my best friend. So naturally I had a key.
Such a perfect day put one in the greatest mood I had been in months since work started to take a hit to the economy. After that, it was harder to find things to feel good about. Maybe that is why I can’t seem to ever get rid of his face from my memory. Even with that bout of amnesia, it still came back. Greeting me at the office was my best friend's slightly pale face. It gave me a start, but I took it as a joke. Maybe I am not the only one in a good mood. Yet the guy that liked to play jokes seemed to be trying too hard. Why was he just standing there that long, no, his feet weren’t touching the ground.
The rest of that entire day is cloudy and foggy to me, even when my mental state is in the best of condition. I don’t remember much about that week either. My body was moving and things were done, however, all I can remember is thinking about the time we were in the orphanage.
The next clear memory I have is after the funeral. I remember feeling more alone than ever before, as if my parents had died. Strange feeling for an orphan to have, yet, it is the only way I can put that bleak feeling of being alone into words. The weather was hot, while I remember sweating, all I felt was cold. So very cold.
My last memory of that world is taking a shower to try and bring some semblance of warmth. But even when the water was burning my skin, I couldn’t find that lost warmth. Getting out of the shower, so I didn’t burn any more of my skin. I reached for the towel. I slipped. That is my last memory before waking up in this new world.
It was very clearly a test. Obviously so, to the point I couldn’t understand why I was so angry. Why did everyone get things I could only dream of? I wanted to blame her for everything. Why did she get to receive everything I could only ever dream of? Even still, there was no hatred being produced. Time and time again, she showed him why she was not a shity person like him.
Just remembering when she called him Leo… For the very first time in thousands of years did he feel like he had a place to belong again. So for some shity old man to test him, even though there was no malice. He wouldn’t allow it. The person that brought him that warmth deserved better. Therefore, he proved he had worth in staying by her side.
Gathering all the mana in the surroundings, he could feel everything being pressed to the limit as he recreated that singular moment of destruction that left him more excited than he had ever been in his entire life. The negative emotions were no lower than before. The madness and insanity that was only made worse after believing he made it out of that room was finally given an outlet.
Without runes, he could only recreate this to a point. When the surrounding mana for tens to possibly hundreds of feet were gathered into a single point. The compression didn’t take as long as he expected. Still, without the runes, he could just barely reach the size of a beach ball. The one that burst open the door was compressed to the tip of the nail on his index finger. With a horrendous smile, at least he hoped it looked that way to the old man, he was smiling ear to ear. He released the mana.
Barely holding on, he could feel the anxiety from the lost lamb. Therefore, he made sure to let her know the old man was fine. Even if he pissed him off, he had seen enough. Enough to invoke jealousy from their relationship and the care shown to each other. The beach ball released a large beam of focused mana, draining his spirits to the point he wasn’t sure he would wake up again. With this, the old man was able to dodge to the side as he blew away a large chunk of the house.