No One Quite Knew What To Do With The Moon Anymore

Chapter 1

Three days. Never before had Ryan's life changed so quickly before. It started with him coming home from school, and finding his father choking on his own vomit. He spent two hours at the hospital, but he knew that this was the end.

He spent the night at the hospital, because there was no where else for him to go. The nurses were nice, giving him a pillow and directing him to a room with a few, inexpensive and uncomfortable beds. Their small smiles when they handed him the items held pity, and Ryan hated it. He wanted to scream, to shake them until they realized that it didn't matter to him, none of this mattered anymore.

Ryan Ross was ten years old, and he was alone.

In the morning, he was woken by a kind looking man shaking his shoulder, hair falling into his eyes from bending over too far. "You're Ryan, right?" When the man received a small, tentative nod, he continued. "I'm Spencer. I'm your social worker. Come get breakfast, my treat."

When Ryan got out of bed, Spencer held out his hand, but Ryan ignored it. He didn't need help, he didn't need anyone. He liked being alone.

Breakfast was fine, Spencer spent the time asking him about his family, and his life at home, only getting a nod or a shake of his head in reply.

"Do you know of any living relatives out there?" Ryan paused, studying the muffin in front of him. He knew his mother was out there, but she had left him, so it was obvious to his ten-year-old brain that she didn't want him.

He shook his head.

"Well, what about a friend whose parents wouldn't mind you staying over for a while?"

Another shake.

Seven hours later, Ryan was sitting in a big chair, watching Spencer fill out some paperwork. They had spent the day packing up clothing from his small room at home, and deciding if there was anything in the house worth saving.

There wasn't.

Ryan was careful not to look in the kitchen, terrified of seeing his father again in his mind's eye, wrething on the floor and gasping for air. He didn't show he was scared though, he kept his chin set, and his mouth shut. Spencer would hold things out to Ryan, ask if he wanted it, and Ryan would shake his head.

By the end of their time there, Ryan's bag was barely half full, and Spencer seemed exhausted, both mentally and physically. When the man rested a hand on Ryan's shoulder, he jumped, and shuffled away. A pained frown appeared on Spencer's face, but he didn't say anything about it.

"You're going to stay at my place tonight, and then tomorrow I'm going to introduce you to Mr. Walker. He's a good friend of mine, and runs a place with a bunch of other kids like you. He'll be able to take care of you." Ryan looked from his lap to Spencer. He hadn't realized that he wasn't staying. He felt a sharp pain in his chest, but ignored it. He didn't care, he couldn't let himself care.

When Spencer didn't get a response, he ruffled Ryan's hair before going back to working on the forms.

Ryan dreamt of nothing that night.

The next morning, he woke up to the smell of eggs and bacon. He felt his stomach rumble, but he shook his head when Spencer asked if he was hungry.

The car ride to their next destination was short, and silent. Spencer didn't seem any less tired than he had been the previous day, even after a full night's rest. Ryan spent the drive staring out the window. An apartment building passed, with a child's chalk drawing of a happy family coming into view. He blinked at it for a moment, before turning away, staring at his lap.

The car came to a stop in front of one of the apartment buildings, a small plaque beside the door letting everyone know that this building was, in fact, an orphanage. Ryan frowned to himself, taking the backpack that Spencer held out to him, and following him up the stairs into the building.