Colourblind

Electric blue hair

"Wait-", Caine protested, as he made a grab for Veronica. She shook her head and smiled encouragingly at him before slamming the door shut, causing the chattering hall to quieten a little.  Caine swallowed and scanned the hall.

It was slightly larger than the one he had just come from, with about 70 people inside. V was right, They all looked a similar age to Caine. He estimated they ranged from age 13-18. It was much more modern and a lot less childish, however, art still covered the light grey walls. Caine's eyes searched for an empty table and eventually he laid eyes on a small round one with a view that faced car park. Caine immediately strode over to it, ignoring the whispering around him.

He sat down, unsure what to do and stared out the window,tapping random tunes with his fingertips onto the tiny table. After a few minutes a girl with ridiculously long black hair marched towards him, followed by, what Caine deemed, two sidekicks. He noted that the girl might have been Iranian.

"Hi, welcome to Formido care," she said, spinning a chair around to sit opposite me. The two others did the same. "My name's Amna. "

"Hi." Caine said lamely.

"Hey, I'm Yvonne," the girl to Amna's right said, so quietly Caine thought she was whispering, "you know you're the first person we've had in four years. After me, I mean."

Caine grunted and resumed staring out the window. An impossibly pale hand smacked down o to the table, contrasting with the dark wood.

"It's rude to ignore people, when they're talking to you," Amna, Yvonne and the impossibly pale girl grinned manically at him. "This is Mini. Short, sweet, simple. Completely the opposite of her. She also doesn't talk."

Caine stood up, suddenly. Their grins had shaken him and brought back memories of what seemed like thousands of years ago. In reality, two days ago.

"I need to go. Bathroom." Caine muttered before practically running out a different door than to the one he had came in through. A girl with shockingly bright blue hair and a boy with a sullen looking face, frowned at him as he sprinted out of sight.

Caine blinked rapidly as he ran through the doors, his mother's maniacal grin so much like the girl's, playing in his head. Eventually, Caine slowed his pace and realised he was in the middle of what he thought was a field. Some sort of training field. There was a stream running around the edge. It would look tranquil, if rain hadn't been pounding down and making the grass soggy.

Trudging towards the stream, Caine picked up a handful of wet stones and skimmed them across the water, disturbing a frog who was enjoying the rain. He carried on throwing stone after stone after stone into the water, throwing them harder each time. His cheeks were wet but Caine wasn't sure whether it was from rain or tears. He didn't care.

When he ran out of stones, Caine lashed out at the frog. It hopped out of the way and foolishly sat closer or Caine. He grabbed another handful of stones and screwed up his face as he chucked the contents of his hands at the frog. It sat dazed, which angered Caine. Quickly, Caine stamped on the green frog, killing it instantly. He did it. Stop and carried on stamping on it, rain pouring down the back of his neck and mud on his shoes.

When the frog was just mush, Caine walked away and sank to his knees, not caring whether it was muddy or not. He pushed his fist into his eyes and pulled at his untrimmed, black hair. He could NOT get his mother's face out of his head. The way she was sobbing just moments before. The way her eyes rolled upwards when she died. Purple bruises inflicted by his dad.

His 'dad'.

Cain lunged for a branch and bashed it against the tree it had fallen off. Splinters erupted from it and the tree shook in protest. He carried on whacking it.