the last of her kind

Chapter 5

It was cruel. I thought that I had suffered a fate worse than anything but hearing A's story that day left me in guilt and tears- also anger. I thought that me being left at the age of twelve with a two-year-old brother was bad but learning Alex's story taught me otherwise.

He was the youngest arrivals, way before me. He was bought to the orphanage at only six months as he had to spend those months in the hospital, for check-ups. It pains me to know that he went through such a thing. It reminds me that my matters and problems are trivial, that they are small compared to his.

Knowing his story had me excusing his behaviours. His mood kept changing every few minutes, it was as though he was fighting a demon inside him. It was petrifying. We went to the park once and we were so happy, the day was going so well. I wanted ice cream, that's all I wanted but he got mad. I didn't mean to, I thought he was having a good day like me, I guess not.

He snapped at me. "If you want ice cream that bad go get it yourself!" He growled out, his teeth bared. I whimpered, his hands were raised. I closed my eyes- bracing myself for the slap. It never came. I opened my eyes. His hand was slowly lowering, a look of regret and guilt upon his face, but I could see it. I could see the anger that lingered. I didn't want him to feel any of those odious emotions. I wanted him to be happy.

It was my fault that day that he left in a hurry; running, with tears upon his face, whether they were tears of anger or sadness, I ruined his day and it was my fault.

The ugly feelings- that I bring out of people- took a hold of him and held him hostage. They twisted his thoughts and morphed them into something repelling. I made it my duty to help him rid of them. I made it my mission, but I couldn't complete my mission since he left.

He came to my room after; to make sure I made it back to the orphanage on time and to apologise for his behaviour- for shouting at me, nearly hitting me and leaving me to walk home alone in the rain. I forgave him because I knew why he did those things, I knew his past and it was my fault.

I told him, "I liked walking in the rain, it gave me time to think and the touch of cool rain upon my skin." With those words the tension in the air disappeared and we were back to how we were before. Two best friends, lonely together.

The day after, Alex was kept behind to speak to Joaquin (he's the confident man who asked me that dreadful question). I waited for him outside the dining room door, I couldn't hear what they were saying but Alex's voice raised in volume at some point. I didn't like it, I hope he doesn't come out of there angry. Him, Will and I were all supposed to play together today. He promised that he would show me his new game that he found and teach Will a fun way to learn his numbers.

Alex stormed out of the dining room and didn't even spare a look at us. I felt disappointed. What Joaquin told him must have upset him so much that he didn't even spare a glance at us, even when Will called his name.

"Siwwy," Will called up to me, while tugging my hand. "Where is A gowing? He said he would pway with us. Did we do something?" Will questioned me in his innocent voice, he sounded exactly like an angel.

"No, no." I reassured him. "You did nothing wrong Will, we did nothing wrong. Alex is just a little upset, so we'll leave him alone for now, yeah?"

"Oh. Okay" He sounded so down that I just had to find some way to make him happier.

"Hey. Look at me," he looked up, straining his neck. "How about we go and play in the park for some time? How does that sound? Sound good?" I knew that would make him happy, he loved going to the park for a six-year-old.

"Yay!"

You see, if I knew what was going on, I would have been with Alex. I don't regret anything more than that day. He had to fight his demons by himself. He was drowning- reaching out a hand for help- and I was nowhere to be found. I was told that day he was screaming my name, crying out for me however I was too busy having fun with Will to be there for him. I regret it even to this day.

On the other hand, a twisted, sick part of me finds a thrill of joy going through me. The fact that I made someone else hurt or didn't end their pain fills me with amusement and pleasure. It has me thinking at least it wasn't me, it wasn't me for once. It wasn't me. It wasn't Will so I'm glad.

I feel repulsed by that side of me, but I can't make it go away. It surfaces during time, not listening to a word I say. I want it to stop, but it ignores me. It tells me 'ignorance is bliss'. It doesn't understand, I don't want to be like my father.