The morning came slowly, golden specks of sunlight dotting the old rag curtains that covered ruddy windows all around the orphanage. Alfred’s body was contorted in a hunched position, and it ached with a horrible stiffness, he being bent over Jason’s sleeping and broken body. The smaller boy below him was painted with blue, yellow, and purple splotches, his lips and nose crusted with blood, his eyes so swollen it looked like it would be impossible for them to ever open again.
Alfred was awake, his eyes scanning the room of still-sleeping orphans. His senses were numb, and yet his mind zoomed in on the emotional pain that boomed deeply in the pit of his stomach.
On the ground, bleeding. They all stared, just stared…they didn’t do anything, they would have let him writhe in pain all night if I didn’t show up when I did. By himself, he would have been in pain and alone…Jason in pain and alone.
In pain, horrible screaming pain, yet all he does is force himself to stay quiet, not wanting to disturb anyone else in the room. So kind hearted, such a innocent little thing…
Horrible pain.
Alone.
Alfred bit down on his bottom lip till the physical pain brought him from his own mind. He shifted his hands from the under Jason’s back, and ran his finger’s through the boy’s sweat clumped hair, away from his pale face. Jason was looking around the room silently, but it seemed like a calm before the storm. Alfred didn’t want to think, he wanted to numb himself from everything.
“How are you feeling?” he whispered, and looked straight into Jason’s eyes.
Alfred wanted to get lost in those eyes. He never wanted to leave that forest green color. It reminded him of the good things in the world, and it kept him going. Yet seeing them through puffy skin and black bruises was devastating.
Jason’s mouth opened, and a raspy nothing came out. Alfred shook his head as his smile dwindled and his mind started to swim with memories and unwanted feelings once more. His grasp tightened at the back of Jason’s neck, and both the boy’s re-closed their eyes.
A door from behind the two opened slowly and with no sound.
Mr. Joseph Marley’s hair was rustled, sticking up from his ears like wings and pressed down to his forehead as if he had been wearing a large and uncomfortable hat all night long. He had already dressed himself, though sloppily and incorrect, (his vest was buttoned in the back, his jacket inside out and his tie knotted like a ascot).
Alfred and Jason sleeping in a coma-like state, were in the middle of the orphan’s bedroom. All the beds cascaded in a circle around the two, as if they were some holy figures or just the opposite, out-casted monsters. Joseph could see the black and blue boy under Alfred clearly from his place in the quiet room, Alfred’s own wounds were hidden deep beneath his skin, and nestled within his spirit.
Mr. Marley’s foot steps were stomps in the solitude of the room, he took long and quick strides to the boys, then dropped to his knees. Alfred knew who was next to him, and felt a shaking hand on his cheek, fingers pulling at his eyes and wrist. He now heard some of the other orphans waking up.
All the orphans new Joseph Marley would do anything for them: If he could. Right now the middle aged man felt sick. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, the orphanage. It’s not how Joseph planned it, boys shouldn’t suffer, and here Jason was, looking like ground up meat: eyes, lips, cheeks, arms, hands, back, knees, and stomach all turned up in a blue purple color. Mr. Marley thought his heart just might break in two, Alfred’s grasp so tight on his companion’s waist that it was difficult to pull the two apart.
The master couldn’t even begin to think of who had done such damage, wouldn’t even scold the boys and threaten and punish till he knew Jason was stable. Not this little one, he couldn’t loose him; he couldn’t because he knew that Alfred loved him so much. Alfred would die inside, and as a result so would he. To all the boys he was connected, a small part in his heart and mind reached out and formed a sort of web. When they hurt, he hurt. There were so many things that he needed to do, that he wanted to do and had to do. He called to the orphans waking up, as loud and as quiet as he could. Joseph’s mind ate at his reason, telling him things that weren’t true.
It’s all your fault.
Should have been more careful.
You’re a horrible person, you are everything that you wished to not be.
Your useless, your unhappy.
Your disgusting.
“Boys, coats and hats. No fuss, and I mean it.” His voice came out shaky and small. It surprised Mr. Marley, the pathetic voice that he found the orphans slowly moving to the direction of was his.
I’m loosing myself.

“Poor thing…” was a sweet and sound voice, Alfred hadn’t even recognized. The tone was like wind, whipping past his outer ear. His stomach raised with excitement and wonder, he awoke from his zombie like state only for a moment, eyes widening. It came and went, like a good dream, or a charming smell.
Jason was being pulled from off his lap and immediately he felt a waft of cold shoot through his veins. Alfred began to shiver violently, and though the boy’s eyes were open, he clawed in the air blindly for Jason.
“Poor,poor dears, you don’t deserve that, you know so…” the same unfamiliar and pleasant voice whispered again. The voice was that of a female, and its tone was like thick honey. Alfred could feel the hot breath of the unseen girl’s words on his ear and neck, he only shivered more rapidly. Now his mind swam in and out of consciousness, seemingly mimicking Jason, who was struggling with the same. The female voice was teasing him with comfort, the presence of whatever was attached to the sound lingered above his head and kept his chest tight and heavy.  
He struggled to match the voice to a face. His psyche flipped through a mental photo album of guests, parents and caretakers. Women with short blond hair, long brown curls. Pictures imprinted deeply in his mind’s eye of young girls with freckles, large noses and red hair. But the voice painted something different. It painted beauty right in front of him: a girl of his age, her size very petit and short. Her little arms were folded around her waist, fingers that seemed so long and delicate were laced together. She smiled with certain feeling, the way Alfred now felt everyone should smile. He wanted each person to smile with as much love as this small girl did. Chocolate brown eyes sparkled, white-blond hair that curled angelically. Angelic. She needed wings, this little goddess that Alfred saw. He imagined light feathery wings that sprouted so naturally from her back, as pure in the color white as her hair, as her very soul that just shined through her body and touched Alfred. The orphan boy saw an angel in his mind, the voice that no one else seemed to hear, the breath that only he shivered from, created the character of an angel.

The orphans bustled around him, running around with sheets tied to their waists, shirts half on, yelling for missing caps, scarves and gloves. He could feel himself being picked up by his armpits, but his body flopped to the ground like a rag doll at each attempt of success. A hand slapped lightly to Alfred’s lower back, but it knocked the wind out of him and took the beautiful sight from in front of his eyes. For a moment he was enraged that the girl had vanished, and he spun his head to a large boy behind him, Jack, who was smiling in a lot of the same fashion as the angel.
“It’s alright…” He whispered, placing both of his large hands on Alfred’s shoulders. The touch was real, and tangible. Alfred wasn’t flying anymore, and the hollowness his vision had blanketed over him slowly slipped off.
He was sluggish when Jack pulled him up by his armpits, standing on his feet felt wrong and uncomfortable.
“Come on kiddo…” and his smile only got bigger, dimples popping up under his eyes indented in his caramel skin. Alfred panicked when Jack began to move him away from the middle of the room, dropping to his knees, out of Jack’s hands, and grasping to the ragged carpet like a maniac. He was looking for her.
Come back, please. Please come back. I need to see you, just let me see you…how hard is that? How hard is that?!
Hot tears streamed down Alfred’s face and caused a small stripped pattern on his dehydrated skin. He was already in love with the feeling, with the picture of her that with his dread seemed to be unreachable at the back of his mind. He grunted and cried, let out sobs and horrible sounds as he pulled strings and threads from the carpet below him.
Jack stood right behind the boy, staring at the scene like it was something normal, but something that seemed to hurt him deep inside. Jack’s eyes showed sorrow and confusion.
Orphans from around the room peaked from the corners of their eyes, in the midst of getting clothes and making beds as Marley had silently ordered before rushing out with Jason and stuffing him into his van outside. Some stopped completely at their bedsides, and just watched.
Jack’s lips pursed and he lunged forward to scoop the younger orphan up with what seemed great will power. It was like he was forcing himself to help Alfred, like he didn’t want to take him from his place.
Alfred only screamed and thrashed louder and more violently at the empty space in the room. He was thrown over the burly boy’s shoulder, and carried out, hitting walls and doorways, scratching and scraping his fingernails along the sheet rock as he stomped along the hallway. The large double door at the end was slammed shut behind them.