Chapter 2 - At The Starting Point

Two years later, Cailen sat in the exact same spot.

This time his feet just skimmed along the floor, his face in a scowl again, his hands clenched the ends of the armrests in frustration as he listened in to the newest addition of the list of reasons why no one wanted him.

"He's just so different," the man said.

He heard Ms. Willow sigh.

"He's not like other boys."

"Okay," Ms. Willow cut him off.

She sounded fed up which only made Cailen feel worse.

Ms. Willow was a nice person, the only thing even remotely close to a parent he had and he was causing her distress. But it wasn't his fault. He was only being himself.

He couldn't help it if he didn't like toy cars and baseball. He couldn't help it if he didn't like playing with the other boys at school. All they talked about was baseball and other sports.

He liked playing with the girls at school. They did more stuff that he was interested in. He couldn't help it.

"I'm sorry, but he's not normal," the man said.

Cailen didn't even bother to remember their names anymore. It was pointless when he was only going to be back here watching them walk away without him.

"Thank you, Mr. Barrett. That's quite enough. Sign here," Ms. Willow said, her words short and clipped.

Not normal? Was that a bad thing?

Cailen frowned at the ground as he felt the familiar sting in his eyes as tears started to form.

What was normal?

Talking about baseball, wanting a fancy new toy car for your birthday, wanting to play in the mud and get dirty?

Cailen couldn't be that. That's not who he is.

Should he just change himself?

"Thank you," Mr. Barrett said as he exited the office.

Cailen blinked back the tears immediately, not raising his head.

"Well, this will be it, Cailen. I hope you had fun and I'm sure someone will come for you soon enough," Mr. Barrett said.

Cailen glared up at him. He was sick of hearing that.

Why couldn't people just be honest and say they didn't want him? That no one wanted him?

It would probably hurt less.

He didn't reply. He was done talking to this man.

"Cailen, would you like to say goodbye?" Ms. Willow asked.

Cailen looked at her in disbelief before turning back to the man standing in front of him. He shuffled off of the all too familiar chair, stood up straight and looked up at the man.

"Fuck you," he spat and made the familiar march down the hall.

He heard the gasp Ms. Willow gave. He heard his name being called and he even heard Mr. Barrett saying something along the lines of 'I told you so' but he didn't stop.

He couldn't stop or they would see the tears running down his cheeks.

Cailen stormed down the hall right past the playroom and down to the room that has come to be his permanently.

He threw the door open, turning around and slamming it shut needing the full weight of his little body to do so. He climbed into bed, tears still falling from his eyes, and grabbed his pillow.

So many tears have been absorbed by this pillow, so many screams muffled by it.

It was the closest thing he had to a friend now that Ella had been adopted. It wiped away his tears and provided comfort when he needed it.

It may be pathetic but he supposed it was fitting.

He was pathetic, wasn't he?

He was a pathetic excuse for a boy. That's basically what every parent has ever said about him.

It must be true.

"Cailen?" Ms. Willow’s voice came from the other side of the door along with a small knock.

"Go away!" Cailen screamed wishing there was a lock on the door.

There wasn't. So Ms. Willow walked right in, closing it behind her and approaching the bed cautiously.

"Go away!" he repeated, his voice shrill. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He didn't want anyone to see him like this.

It was just another thing to add to list of reasons of why he wasn't a 'normal' boy. Boys don't cry. Girls cry.

"Cailen, I know this is hard but you can't take it personally," Ms. Willow said quietly.

Cailen could barely understand her. He was, after all, only seven years old, but he knew more than most children. He may only be seven but he's been through much more than some people three times his age.

"Go away," Cailen repeated for a third time, his voice quieter. He sniffled into the pillow, clutching the fabric in his small hands.

"Okay. I'll leave, but I want you to know something," she said, her voice soft and kind.

"What?" he asked quietly.

"There is nothing wrong with you. You're an amazing little boy. I want you to know that, okay?" she said but he didn't reply.

He knew she was lying. She was only trying to make him stop crying so she could say she did her job.

"Do you understand me?" she asked.

Cailen didn't like lying. He hated it and wished people would just tell him the truth but he knew if he told the truth right now, she wouldn't leave.

"Yes," he said into the pillow. He heard her feet shuffling towards the door but they paused as she opened it.

"And you need to watch your language, young man. I don't care what the situation is, those words are not needed," she scolded then he heard the door being shut and the room was quiet, the only sounds were coming from his sniffling nose.

Cailen thought about what she said, not about there being nothing wrong with him. He knew that was a lie, but about his language.

He knew he had quite the colorful vocabulary for a seven year old. He had picked it up in the many households he's been in.

He knew they were bad words but they made him feel better when he said them, like for the millisecond it takes to say them, it stabs just as much hurt as he feels into the receiver of them, if only for a very brief moment.

Cailen rolled over, reaching under his bed to pull out a scrap piece of paper he had tucked into the bed frame.

He grabbed a crayon from the small bedside table beside his bed and opened the paper. He looked it over briefly before adding one more tick beside the rest of them.

He counted them. Fourteen.

Fourteen little ticks written on a scrap piece of paper. To a random person it wouldn't look like anything,. It would just look like someone got bored or they were testing out different coloured crayons, but to Cailen, it was a lot more than boredom.

It was the number of homes he's been to and kicked out of.

It was the amount of times his heart has been torn to shreds, each time taking a shred and leaving it behind at the previous home.

Cailen wasn't sure how many more shreds of his heart he could lose before he just didn't care anymore. He wondered how long it would take before he would stop crying over people who didn't want him.

He wondered how long it would be before he just decided to give up, not just on the orphanage but on life in general.

Cailen was faintly aware of the fact that a seven year old shouldn't be having those thoughts.