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Rated: 13+ · Fiction · LGBTQ+ · #1684544
"Some people say we're cursed; but, I think it's a gift. Don't you?"
I leaned heavily on my elbow with my chin in my hand, pushing peas around on my plate with a plastic fork. We’re only allowed plastic cutlery here. I guess they’re worried that we might hurt ourselves or each other; understandably of course. I let my head slide further down my arm and rested my chin on the table, peering around the room from under my hair.

In this place, you barely have to glance at someone and it’s taken as a challenge for a fight to the death. I almost grimaced looking at some of the boys in here; with shaved heads and thick jaws, they certainly weren’t the most attractive bunch. A group of them turned and looked back at me, scowling. One of them had a drink in his hand and I half expected him to threateningly crush the glass in his fist. Instead he just laughed loudly and they turned to each other and began discussing me in their gruff, raspy voices. It was like listening to another language when they spoke; you wouldn’t think that sentences so grammatically incorrect could be understood by any human being.

I looked away, feeling slightly revolted that I’d been put in the same category as these poorly-educated low lifes. I buried my head in my arms and sighed, quietly. The adults don’t care. To them, we’re all the same; criminals.

I jumped as there was a loud thud from the other side of the table. Of course I knew the source of the noise straight away; who else could it be? Bailey had a habit of slamming his fists on the table every time he sat down and I certainly wasn’t going to be the one to inform him of how annoying it was.

I forced myself to sit up and pay attention to him; he hated being ignored. He smirked at me when my eyes met his and I suddenly got a horrible feeling that I was going to regret asking what he’d done, yet I couldn’t resist.

“Whatever it is, I don’t want to be involved,” I yawned, pushing my messy brown hair away from my eyes irritably. His smirk didn’t falter as he slowly stuck out his tongue, revealing a small, silver stud. Clearly I didn’t react the way he was hoping I would, because he frowned and drummed his fingers on the table in anticipation.

“Well?” I could hear the stud clicking against his teeth when he spoke and for some reason it annoyed me. I forced myself to appear interested and nodded slightly. Ignoring my obvious disinterest, he grinned and slapped his hand on the table again.

“Told you I’d do it!” He laughed, reaching over and grabbing a solitary fish finger from my plate. He began to eat it slowly, showing no expression. I could tell that it was hurting his piercing; products from the canteen were generally more suitable as building material rather than food.

I rested my head on my folded arms again and watched him eat it, irritated that he was clearly forcing himself not to show that he was in pain; he’d always been stubborn.

Bailey was the equivalent of a best friend for me, mainly because I was the only person that would put up with him. He was rude and loud and aggressive, everybody could see that. What they didn’t see, was that deep down he was a truly nice person; it just took a lot more effort to find.

He finished his fish finger and ran a slender, dirty hand through his raven hair. I noticed silver roots protruding from his scalp and suppressed a laugh. Bailey was extremely self conscious about his hair; it started turning white when he hit puberty and since then he’s been dying it black. I resisted the urge to point it out to him in fear that he could find a way to cause me serious pain even with a fork made of plastic.

I sighed as he continued to eat my dinner, I didn’t want it anyway but I certainly hadn’t offered it to him. He pointed a particularly stiff looking chip at me.

“Hey, Ollie, you sure you don’t want me to give you a piercing? I’m getting really good ya know.” As he spoke, he sprayed half chewed debris across the table in front of me and I automatically backed away.

“I’m sure.” I grumbled, moving my chair out of his range. I pushed my plate toward him; may as well let him have the rest. He looked at me suspiciously and then smiled.

“I gave Lucas and Reuben piercings too.” He beamed, clearly proud of himself. I rolled my eyes.

As if on cue, Lucas appeared by the table, bouncing on the spot. Reuben was standing very closely behind him with his head lowered. Lucas grinned and lunged across the table toward me, pointing to his nose, where a gold hoop had recently been pierced through one side. I flinched away from the looming figure; Lucas was unnaturally tall for a sixteen year old. He sat on the table in front of me, tapping his foot rapidly against the linoleum floor.

“Do you think it looks good, Ollie? I wasn’t gonna get it done at first but then I did and I dunno if it suits me but it’s different right? It was fun getting it done but it hurt and it was bleeding but then it stopped.” He laughed to himself and started swinging his legs over the edge of the table. He was wearing shorts and I could see that his tanned legs were covered in scars.

Lucas had always been like that; like he was constantly on a sugar high. He never stopped moving and barely ever took a breath when he was speaking. On the up side, he was the only person that never let this place get him down and laughed his way through the worst situations, although, he never seemed to understand the seriousness of some.

I replied with a grunt and looked past him at Reuben, who had moved closer to our table with his head still lowered. He didn’t like being in places where there were a lot of people and hated being the centre of attention, which was difficult considering his appearance. He was usually the brunt of bullying due to the fact that he was so defenceless and feminine compared to the rest of the boys.

Reuben looked up at me with watery eyes, quickly wiping his tears away and gulping. I could faintly see a small stud in one of his ears past his wavy, blonde hair.

“Reuben cried.” Bailey stated bluntly, rolling his eyes. “He wouldn’t even let me pierce both of his ears.”
At this statement, Reuben sniffed quietly and looked at his feet again. I cursed under my breath.

“Stop it, Bailey.” I sighed, yawning.

I saw that Bailey was about to retaliate but he glanced at Reuben and decided otherwise. He patted the seat next to him and grumbled. Reuben reluctantly sat down and nodded in thanks.

Lucas began fiddling with his hair. It was up in a ponytail today; he rarely had it down because it went to his shoulders and got in the way of his everyday over-activeness. When the sun hit his hair, it was fascinating to look at; flaming red with shimmering copper highlights. I’d never known anyone to be born with such bright red hair but he swears it’s natural.

The four of us were the outcasts of Rookwood care home; we certainly stood out from the others. If you saw us it would be hard to believe that we lived ‘here’. We knew between us that we had to stick together or we wouldn’t survive in this place. Sure enough, Bailey could manage on his own, even Lucas was stronger than he looked. Reuben and I, on the other hand, wouldn’t stand a chance against the rest of the boys here. I could put up a pretty good fight when I had to but I wasn’t built to be muscular and to be quite honest, Reuben was more like a nine year old girl than a fifteen year old boy.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that the same group of boys as before were staring at us again. Bailey saw them looking and glared. I silently prayed that he’d keep his mouth shut. The boys continued to stare and Bailey stood up abruptly, knocking his chair over in the process.

“What the hell are you looking at!” he bellowed across the canteen. I put my hand over my face, willing him to sit back down and be quiet. If I was ever caught on my own I’d pay for this later. The boys continued to stare, some of them laughed, others looked annoyed. Bailey kicked his chair aside and Reuben jumped up out of the way.

“I said; what are you looking at assholes? The freak show’s over your side of the room!” Bailey continued to shout abuse at the group, oblivious to the fact that the entire population of the canteen was staring at him in silence. Reluctant to be involved, I stood up and put my hand on Bailey’s shoulder, staring directly into his eyes to show I was serious.

“Bailey.” I warned, “Don’t.”

His grey eyes glared straight into mine and for a moment I was sure he was going to punch me. He didn’t. He nodded and stormed out of the room. I sighed with relief, squinting at the dirty clock on the wall; you could barely see the hands anymore. Eight o’clock. I signalled to Lucas and Reuben that I was going to bed and they got up and followed, unsurprisingly not wanting to stay in the deathly silent canteen.

The place might’ve been a dump but at least we got our own rooms. I lay on my bed and stared at the ceiling; it was still early but I couldn’t stand to be anywhere else but my own room.

I could feel the darkness creeping around me from outside. Bailey had ‘accidentally’ burned my curtains a few months back.

As I rolled onto my side, looking past the peeling paint of the walls and out of the window, I could faintly see the weather-beaten sign not too far from my window; “Rookwood Care Home for Criminal Boys.” The sign that warned passers-by not to come near. How had it come to this? I knew one thing for sure; I wasn’t supposed to be here.
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