I.

I haven’t bathed in four days. That was something I liked about the orphanage: bathing. The ability to get clean after a long day of being shoved into the wall or pushed into mud, among other things. A nice bath in an enclosed empty room to tend to my wounds and listen to music was the best part of my day.

 Regardless, that dreadful place was in the past now. Hopefully for good this time.

This was the third foster home I’d been sent to. They each have their attributes, but they're all ultimately the same thing: one or two adults, wanting to get in their “I’m so charitable” points by not fully committing to adopting some kid they’ve never met. This one was worse than the others though, the “family” being entirely made up of various sheepish foster kids. The “mother” of the household seemed nice enough, demanding all the children to do the home’s dirty work. 

“Do the dishes” 

“Clean the floor” 

“Really put your back into it” 

“Make the food”

“If you're not going to do anything, then leave, Zachary”

And so I left. I was half expecting someone to come for me after the first day. It’s starting to seem like she hadn’t even reported it when I left. 

I think the worst part about being on the streets is having to deal with people like cashiers. They always react the same way. Just staring at you as you grab whatever snacks and water bottles you can, then ask you where you’re going without paying, calling you a “punk little kid”, and taking all the items you had to stand on your tip-toes to reach. I’d always scrunch my face up and stick my tongue out at them. At least I’ve eaten more than I’ve bathed. 

Last time, it took them only a day to find me. I wasn’t exactly hiding then, either. The second foster home I stayed in had two fathers and an older brother waiting for me when I arrived. The parents were alright, they had a whole dinner set up to celebrate an “addition to the family”. The older brother didn’t like me very much. I remember meeting his eyes over that first dinner, being a little nervous and sheepishly waving at him, only to be responded with a kick from under the table. I never made eye contact with him again. 

He was supposed to walk me to first grade and back every day, considering he was a fifth grader at the same elementary school. The fathers had asked him to show me around as well, since this foster home was in Sringreach, a city I had never been to before, and I had to be enrolled in a new school. That first day he walked with me, I tried to follow him close behind. The buildings seemingly towered over me, making me feel miniscule in comparison as I looked around the new blocks. He sharply turned to me, after my new house could no longer be seen, and told me to stay at least six paces behind him. I obliged. 

The school day passed by with some odd, but welcoming looks from my new classmates. My classmates stared at me when I first sat down in my assigned seat, and I suddenly felt more self-conscious of myself - a Tiefling with blue skin, cat-like yellow eyes, and small horns protruding from my black hair. Most of the kids were Haflings or Humans, just like my fathers were both Halflings and my brother was a Human. The city of Sringreach wasn’t very diverse. Even with the welcoming gazes from my first-grade class, I was nervous to talk to anyone, feeling outcast and embarrassed by their eyes moving up to look at my horns whenever I approached anyone. 

The first day of school came to a close and I sat down next to a tree, waiting for my older brother to walk me home, as I didn’t remember all the streets and buildings to get home. I comfortably rested there, my knees pulled close to my chest and my eyes closed, waiting for him. I felt something tickle my nose and I blinked my eyes open in surprise. A butterfly. A blue one, like me. I let out a small gasp as I touched my finger to my nose carefully, the butterfly climbing into the new perch. My eyes glistened with amazement as I studied its shimmering wings. Maybe this place is the one for me.

 As footsteps of my brother and a small group of his fellow fifth graders approached, the butterfly flew away. I watched it flap its beautiful blue wings in the breeze as it disappeared into the tree. My head turned towards my brother, a new smile on my face and new thoughts in my mind. My brother whispered something to another Human and the group responded with laughs as he grabbed my arm, pulling me up to stand. Almost falling over, I caught my balance quickly only to be shoved into the trunk of the tree. My head pounded as it hit the hard bark and words echoed through my ears. 

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

“You’ll never be a part of my family” 

I felt myself being carried, my head pounding and my heart broken. My eyes opened to look at who was carrying me- my brother. He ran to the house, almost frantically, and placed me on the couch, the sweeter father immediately babying me and the stricter one demanding an explanation. I began to open my mouth to speak, only to continue shaking and being unable to find my voice. My older brother quickly told our fathers that I started a fight with another kid on the way home and got beaten roughly, and that he carried me all the way home after I was unable to finish what I started.

The fathers, after touching cotton balls dipped in alcohol to my face to disinfect the wounds, lectured me about fights. The nicer one told me I should think about how the other person felt rather than give into my anger regarding whatever they said or did. I was distraught. My head continued to hurt. I couldn’t figure out what I had done wrong.

“I didn’t hit anyone!”

“Don’t lie.”

The stricter father glared at me, disappointed. The two fathers exchanged a look between themselves and their son. My heart sank. I began to cry. I should’ve known they wouldn’t want me. My biological family and first foster family gave me back, why wouldn’t this one too? I stood up, brushing past my “brother” to my room, locking the door and feeling this sadness flow through me. I wrapped myself in a blanket and hid in the closet, shutting that door to be in complete darkness. 

After that day, I was lectured by the fathers, treated weirdly by my teachers, and avoided at elementary school. The classmates that once held welcoming and curious gazes turned to distrust, fear, and even complete avoidance. During recess, I sat by myself by that same tree I was shoved into, hoping the blue butterfly would return. I would notice a group of kids in my class staring at me and giggling to one another, and I would feel embarrassment rise in my chest as I tried to avoid their gaze. A few times, there were words scribbled on my desk, calling me weird, gross, a horned-beast, etc..  I don’t want to be here anymore. 

Sitting under my tree, I closed my eyes as I held my knees to my chest when a ball bumped my foot. I stared at it for a moment, looking up in surprise to see a group of my classmates. They seemed frightened by me as I stood up with the ball in my hands, scattering in different directions. I held my breath, my eyes starting to feel water-y again. They don’t want me. Why don’t they want me? I squeezed the ball as my flood of sadness turned to a more intense, red emotion. Why don’t they want me? Hot tears streamed down my face and my body felt like it was going to burst with adrenaline. Why don’t they want me? I started running, chasing the kids who had scattered across the playground. Why don’t they want me? One Halfling girl started crying, I focused on her. She has no reason to cry. I chased her into a corner of the playground, my emotions raging inside me.

“Why doesn’t anyone want me?”

“Y-you’re weird, no one likes you! Y-you should just leave!”

I threw the ball at her disgusting crying face. Her nose started to bleed. She started crying harder. That was the first time I ran away, not wanting another lecture from the fathers or to see my older brother’s stupid face ever again. 

Police sirens rang around the large house when I returned after being found sitting on a bench not far from the school, and I was greeted with two big hugs and lots more tears from the two fathers. A sort of guilty look from my brother confused me, but I pretended I didn’t notice him when he tried to talk to me. I shoved them away. I had already seen the orphanage lady sitting through the window. I knew they didn’t want me. I can still see the other orphaned kids’ faces when I walked through the doors of the orphanage the second time. Disgust. Amusement. Interest. Whatever. 

I looked up towards the sky from the bench I was sitting on, sighing at some of the memories that resurfaced from two years ago. Stars were appearing in the sky. I spent the last couple days sleeping in this park, so staying here another day shouldn’t be too bad. My stomach rumbled. I should find a bakery and ask for their burnt bread- maybe they’ll even give me some drink. That way, I won’t have to conversate with cashiers. That sounds like a mission for tomorrow. 

My legs stood me up so I could wander over to one of the trees to sleep in. I rather like to climb. Plus, being up high made me feel more secure. The only creatures that would bother me in a tree are the squirrels and bugs, which I don’t really mind either of them. My hand touched a tree I had come upon with some spots in its bark, insinuating that there were some sort of critters that live in it. I wish I could identify which types of bugs left each trail. My shoes came off and I started to climb the tree, using all my strength to pull myself up onto a sturdy branch and swinging my legs back and forth once I had sat down. 

The world always seems so small up here. I look down at the grass beneath where I sit and the individual blades of grass feel so insignificant, yet the meadows can be seen for what seems like thousands of miles from where I swing my legs, even though the park is surrounded by the buildings of the city. The orange and pink hues of the sunset and oncoming moon light up the park, making the air feel like honey as the light reflects off the buildings surrounding it. The touch of that warmth makes my eyes feel heavy. I should probably sleep.