Tuesday, August 18, 2009

06. The Sound of Pain.

Disturbed, troubled, afraid, alone, no matter how you put it, Trevor was in need. His first memory was of waking up in a cold damp bed to the sounds of children screaming in pain as if their limbs were being yanked from their little bodies, or so Trevor imagined he would cry if such unthinkable acts were performed on him. Fear crept over Trevor and he pulled it tight under his chin and found solace in the embrace of the only emotion he knew. As he lay in his bed and the wetness of his sheets soaked through his pj's, he timidly looked around for the origin of the pain and horrid cries anticipating whatever monster out there that would inevitably come for him. Yet as his eyes looked left and reached their farthest corner he was shocked to see his reflection staring straight back at him. The refection he saw was equally surprised and mimicked Trevor's movements of immediately jerking their eyes back towards the ceiling. When Trevor finally got the courage to look again he saw that his reflection was staring back wide eyed at him. It was only then that he realized that what he thought was a mirror image of himself was actually another boy lying in a bed no more than 12 inches away. He turn to his right and saw a body covered in a heap of blankets rhythmically moving up and down. Trevor's heart still pumped fear through his veins, but his curiosity gnawed at him so profoundly, he had to know; he propped himself on his elbows and saw rows and row of identical beds filled with bodies as far as the eye could see. A new emotion of utter despair and sorrow so powerful, so raw, and so consuming coursed through Trevor in that moment and made him feel physically ill. Then he understood the pain in the cries that interrupted the dark, cold night as scared children were haunted in their sleep of being abandoned by their parent. Trevor swore then and there that he would push this ordeal out of his mind forever. Only later when Trevor was a successful author, and he saw his work being printed and bound and put into stacks, the sheer quantity and uniformity of the rows of rectangular books as far as the eye could see overwhelmed him and Trevor had a flashback of the first night he spent in the orphanage.


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