Laconically I was face first against the wall, held by my arms by lackeys of the resident bully. I had gotten myself into this position on my own, and expected no help from other kids or the staff. My name is James, I am 15 years old and I live in an orphanage. This had been my life for the past 7 years and I did not know much else. I had an aptitude for making trouble and it usually got me beaten up, or grounded. This time I had humiliated the poor boy by reading his personal diary to the rest of the lunch hall…
Apparently, this was not a good choice, and now I was here. After he had hit me a few times, he made an unintelligible noise that apparently meant throw me on the ground, as this Is exactly what happened. Before I knew It I was lying face up on the floor, being repeatedly kicked by the three boys. The first couple of seconds, I wasn’t worried. This was normal for me. But after that, I began to worry. I was scared. They had never beat me this bad, kicked me so hard.
The pain was unbearable. Eventually they must have gotten bored because the cackling had stopped, but the pain was still there. I felt sick. It hurt to move. All I could think of was my bed. After waiting a few minutes, I had the strength to crawl up the stairs and into the building of which this lovely home of mine was built. I reached the staircase leading to the first floor and reached for the hand rail. Pulling myself up with its help, I scaled the stairs. One by one.
Every step felt like someone was stabbing me in the chest. I came to the conclusion that I had broken a rib, but was so exhausted, didn’t think of reporting it. I got into the hallway and luckily for me my room was directly in front of me. Stumbling through the door, I slammed it and locked it straight away, convinced I wasn’t leaving again. This was my second mistake. I stripped off, clambered into bed and before you could say sleep, I was snoring. This is where my life changed.