The Beginning of a Mass Murderer.
The orphanage. A socially acceptable way of saying “Kids on sale”. A place I must call home.
Sometimes it’s a couple that comes by, sometimes just the wife. Or maybe even a single woman wanting to add meaning to her life without changing her name. I always hope these people find what they want... then take it and leave.
Like any other day, I had just finished sharing my lunch with the tomcat that’s lost within these gates too. Grievisburgh. No, not the cat; the name of the holy place. Grievisburgh Housing for Homeless Children: A place you visit to sign up for a more evolved pet.
Rattles (the cat) and I sat munching in the front garden, and watched as this chirpy couple drove into the gates in this chirpy convertible, which I’m sure had a chirpier horn. We cringed.
People like this come by all the time. Oh, the monstrous smiles on my roommates’ faces. I just don’t understand it. Why would you want to live with them? Greivisburgh isn’t that bad. I’m sure they don’t have a cat.
To make everyone think I’m the same, I smile too when I’m around them or the nurses. I’ve come to realise that people, whatever their age, can’t deal with someone different. That too is what scares me about these overly joyous families. Coping quotient equals Zero. It sends shivers down my spine.
Imagine living in someone’s yellow and pink single-storied cottage. Just looking at that bright red convertible made me want to throw up.
About a half hour later, Rattles and I saw that couple walk out of the office area with a nurse walking ahead. I knew what had happened. They were all staring right at me. And smiling.
I stood up and held Rattles in my hands.
I smiled back.
You know why.
I noticed my smile made the nurse at least eighty five percent less edgy about this transaction.
They walked over to me, explained the obvious and said my stuff was already packed. I couldn’t take Rattles, but they’d buy me a dog next week. A dog. I clenched my jaw tight and just smiled.
Lucky them, my hands were full.
My things were loaded into the car. I said goodbye to all those jealous little boys and girls that I had shared twelve years of my life with. Oh, I saw their eyes burn with longing as they stood at the windows to wave. Lookie whose smiles are fake now! This is the happiest they’ve ever made me here at Grievisburgh.
Now I will no longer be at Grievisburgh. I’m out. I’m done. No more fake smiles, from me or anyone else. It’s the real world. Real food. Real people. People with parents. People that aren’t “visiting” because they want to buy donated children. So many different people.
If my room is brighter than muddy brown, I’m going to kill these two.
