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.

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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.