Special Orphan

Seven years ago...

A small boy coiled up at the head of a measly metallic rusty bed, the mattress so thin he could feel the thin metal bars that formed the grid on which he sat.

His thin hands and legs were covered with soil and a ruined weathered blanket lay on the floor, dirtied with soil and now unusable.

A well of tears threatened to escape the boy's eyes but he held it in. His future was a lot grimmer than what he now faced. The room was filled with similar beds, however, today, they were empty, almost as if the rest of its equally malnourished inhabitants had just vanished.

The door swung open to reveal a man large enough to fill its frame. Uncle Joe wore the same expression the little boy had imagined. It was an expression that haunted his very dreams and was centred at the core of his worst nightmares.