Cupid Syndrome

Chapter 3: Mariem.

A boy, around 8 years of age, sits at his desk. His skin is a dark nutmeg, while his hair is a matte black. His eyes are an orange hue. He wears brightly colored glasses with small scratches on the circular frame.

Mariem Ortiz
....

The test results came back today. Mrs. Hernandez was handing them out. I sat near the back of the classroom, as I wasn't a problematic student. My hands grew numb as I thought about how father would react if I got less than an A-. 90% was the minimum.

Dad would always rant about how he wanted me to become a lawyer and have a big family with a wife and kids. I wasn't interested in all of his fantasies. He... wasn't the best dad. He had major anger issues. I'd discuss the things he does to my friends, showing off the marks. That's when... I learned that it wasn't normal.

Mrs. Hernandez reached my desk. She laid the paper face down on the tabletop. My breath hitched as I flipped the sheet.

To my dismay....

I got a B.

My face grew cold. It was only by one point. I flipped back through the pages, I'd gotten two questions wrong. One... was a genuine mistake... two... was...

A forgotten question.

I forgot to answer a question on the test.

I feared arriving home.

I hoped dad was working late today.

-

On the bus home, I enjoyed my few minutes of peace before the hell that was my home lured me inside. Apparently, a local boy had been found dead nearby. The news article was only a few hours old.

I sighed.

Nothing in life bears good news.

As I opened the door and sat down, I noticed dinner was on the table. I smiled half-heartedly.

Mom came home today.

She lived in another city and barely visits. But when she does, she makes the best taquitos.

I did my mandatory homework assignment and microwaved the food. Dad left vitamins on the table for me to take. The label on it was worn off and scratched. Usually, he gave me two capsules.

I decided to take four, since I didn't take any yesterday.

As I swallowed the pills along with some apple juice, I felt tired.

I finished my food and my chores quickly.

My bedroom...

Could you even call it that?

My room was bare. There was a mattress on the floor with a pillow and comforter. My desk was an old dresser which my computer sat. My clothes hung neatly in the closet. Nothing else was there. Dad said the laptop was strictly for school assignments, so I scarcely used it.

As I laid my head on my worn-down blue pillow, I felt my eyelids grow heavy.

This sleep.

Didn't feel like the others.

It was....

Cloudier than usual.

All I remember after was ruckus, and lots of it.

I was in a car.

Then in a station of sorts.

And...

Another house.

I have a new family now.

A *foster* family.

They care for me as usual.

I miss my mother.

For over 10 years I stayed with this family.

But....

I still feel different.

Like I'm the odd one out.