Chapter Text
The drive to the orphanage felt like an eternity to Andrew Minyard. He stared out the window, watching the world flash by in a blur of changing colors and indistinct shapes. The dull thud of the wheels against the asphalt created a steady rhythm, almost soothing against the storm of thoughts swirling in his mind. He couldn’t shake the memories of his childhood—the shouts, the violence, the piercing silence that followed each explosion of rage. It haunted him like a ghost; an uninvited companion.
The orphanage lay ahead, a sprawling structure of chipped paint and weathered stone, its cheerful yellow façade in stark contrast to the black cloud that hung over Andrew’s heart. Welcome to Playcare Orphanage! the sign read in bright, colorful letters, almost mocking him. As he stepped out of the car, a gust of wind whipped around him, carrying the faint sounds of children laughing and shouting, their joy a sharp reminder of everything he had lost.
Inside, the atmosphere was overwhelming with bright colors and toy-strewn floors. There were murals depicting whimsical characters painted on the walls—cuddly animals and clowns with wide, welcoming smiles. But beneath that exterior, Andrew could feel the palpable tension, the undercurrent of desperation running through the halls where laughter echoed but never reached his ears. To him, it felt like a façade, a delicate mask hiding something sinister beneath.
While other children rushed into the playroom, clamoring for attention and indulging in chaotic games, Andrew lingered at the doorway, keeping his distance. He caught snippets of their laughter, but all he felt was a hollow ache in his chest. How long would it be before another incident? How long until he was trapped once again, at the mercy of an indifferent world?
“Andrew!” a voice called out, slicing through his introspection. It was Mrs. Peterson, the social worker assigned to him. Her blonde hair was always tied up neatly, and her outfit was crisp and professional, a veneer of stability that Andrew had long learned to distrust.
“Welcome!” she continued, her tone bright yet strained. “I know it’s a big change, but you’re going to love it here! We have lots of activities and a fantastic school program.”
Andrew forced a smile, his efforts feeling as empty as the orphanage’s playroom. The truth was, he had no interest in participating in any of the games they had planned for him. Games were for children who hadn’t known pain, who hadn’t seen their lives shattered by a disapproving father.
As the day went on, Andrew found himself pushed into an unsettling routine. They marched from one colorful room to another, filling out forms, meeting staff members, and enduring awkward introductions with other orphans. He overheard snippets of conversation as children exchanged stories of their unfortunate circumstances as if comparing scars from battles fought in the cruel war of life. In each exchange, Andrew felt more like a stranger—more like an observer of a twisted carnival than a participant in their peculiar show.
By the afternoon, a staff member ushered him toward a classroom filled with eager faces. The teacher, Mr. Thompson, welcomed him with an encouraging smile. “Let’s see what you’ve got, Andrew. I hear you’re quite the scholar.”
But Andrew simply nodded, doing his best to block out the laughter and noise around him. He focused on the math problems on the whiteboard, each number a steady anchor against the chaos swirling in his mind.
As days turned into weeks, Andrew excelled academically, finding solace in figures and formulas. He drifted through the orphanage, a ghost among the living, avoiding the chaotic playtime and focusing instead on his grades. The laughter of other children was a distant echo, a reminder of the innocence he had lost long ago. His grades became his shield, his armor against the world.
“Look at him,” he overheard a staff member mutter one day. “Brilliant but troubled. He has potential yet has lost himself.”
Their words washed over him, a bitter mixture of recognition and disdain. He could feel their eyes on him. While the other children received praise for their involvement in games and activities, Andrew’s accomplishments in school earned him a different kind of attention—one wrapped in worried glances and hushed conversations.