Spectrum

5.2: Yellow

'Queer.'  The word was slashed onto his arm, dark liquid dripping off his pale skin, mixing in with the tears that were flowing down his cheeks like small rivers. This persistent bullying made him feel worthless, like no one would ever care for him in his life ever again. His parents left him the orphanage, and ever since the people who gave birth to him abandoned him. 

As the boy nursed his wounds, he realized how alone he truly was. His own parents didn't want him, the other orphans thought he was like an alien, and no one could understand how lost he felt. It was then a small girl ran by the bench he sat upon in the park, her curls bouncing up and down, hitting small shoulders and framing her small face, which was accented by a small pixie like nose, and huge almond shaped eyes that sparkled with an innocence only a youth could have. She looked towards him and waved, but then frowned when she saw the tears streaming down his face. Then, almost in a blink of an eye, she was right in front of him, her little fingers poking at the hand that had quickly gone to cover the bleeding wound. 

"Are you okay, Mister?" her small voice was high pitched, and had a slight lisp to it, but still had a undertone of wisdom and understanding beyond her youth. "Why are you crying?" 

"I'm crying because I'm hurting…" He said quietly, and moved the injured arm closer to himself, not wanting the little girl to see the cuts that were slowing bleeding to a standstill. "What is your name?" 

"My name is Helena, Mister! What's yours?" her voice had changed from sad and understanding to slightly hyper,  an excitement that was typical in such a young child. 

"You have a very pretty name, Helena," for some odd reason, the ten year old blonde was enjoying talking to the young girl; she had a sort of understanding innocence that was so rare in the society he lived in, where if you had a different preference than someone else, you were taboo and immediately cast out of the category that was deemed socially acceptable. "My name is Caleb." The curly-haired girl smiled to herself, a smile that was wide and showed that she was missing her two front teeth, explaining the lisp. 

"Yay!" An elderly woman called to the girl from underneath a nearby tree, beckoning her over. Helena grabbed Caleb's hand and dragged him towards the woman, laughing slightly as she did so. "Look mommy, I made a friend! His name is Caleb!" The blonde smiled slightly at the woman, not wanting to rub off as a bad influence on her. 

"Hello, miss. I'm, well, I'm Caleb, as Helena said…" 

"Mommy, he's hurt. Can we make it better?" The woman in front of the pair was middle aged, with short cut hair held up with spray and some clips, and dressed for the office with a pencil skirt and suit-like jacket. She raised an eyebrow at her daughter's words, and then fixed her eyes on Caleb. 

"How are you hurt, boy?" she asked, her voice suddenly turning soft; it made the blonde slightly wary. 

"Its nothing… just some cuts…" he said quietly, then caught himself when he realized how that sounded. "Not from me, but from some of the boys from my year…" The woman smiled sadly, for she knew how cruel some boys could be; they never would think things through. 

"Come with us, we'll clean you up - I have some wraps in my car."