Wilder's P.O.V.
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"Why doesn't anyone want me? I waited so long to be adopted!" I cried as tears ran down my face.
"It's okay, Wilder. It's just not your time yet. I'm sure you will be adopted soon." James said as he hugged me.
James was the director of Sunnyside orphanage, the place where I grew up since I was a baby. Today was my 7th birthday. I was crying because it was also the day when couples would come to choose the child they wanted to adopt.
I always waited for someone to adopt me but no one ever did. I never knew why. All I know is that James is my only friend in the entire world. All the children at the orphanage hate me and I don't know why.
I was brought out of my thoughts when I heard James ask, "Do you want to be adopted, Wilder?"
"Yes!!" I shouted with joy.
"Then you must do everything I say. And I mean everything, is that clear Wilder?"
I nodded my head.
"Good boy," James said as he patted my head.
'No one ever patted my head before! Plus he called me a good boy!' I thought excitedly as I smiled widely.
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I woke up gasping for air. I leaped off my bed and rushed to my bathroom. I stared at my reflection.
My dark black hair was swept messily to the side and my chocolate brown eyes were bloodshot from sleep deprivation. I looked like a mess. I had huge eyebags and looked like I haven't slept for a week. Which in a way I have. Ever since I ran away from the orphanage, I have been suffering from insomnia.
The only thing that can make me sleep is sleeping pills but my body got to use them as they are not working anymore. Every time I close my eyes to sleep, I would remember my past.
I would remember him.
James.
"Fuck!" I shouted in anger when I remembered that bastard.
Rage filled me as I punched the mirror, shattering it into pieces. I look down at my gloved hand to discover pieces of the mirror embedded in it. I couldn't feel any physical pain as I was immune to pain because of the horrendous torture I had to endure when I was younger.
I first took off the big chunks of the shards from my hand and then I took off the black leather gloves I always wore. As they fell to the tile floor, blood started to drip onto the floor.
I felt something wet on my cheeks and realized that I was silently crying.
Fucking James. I hate what he did to me. Whether or not I would like to admit it, he shattered me just like I shattered this mirror.
I was no longer that innocent little boy from the past.
"Are you okay Wilder?! Oh fuck, not again!" Luke cursed.
"Shit," I muttered as I wiped my tears with my black long-sleeved shirt.
I looked in Luke's direction and saw him in the doorway. He walked into the bathroom and gently pulled me back to my bedroom. He made me sit down on my bed as he went to get the first aid kit.
He grabbed my injured hand to inspect it.
"Gosh, you could be so stupid sometimes Wilder," Luke muttered as he used the tweezers to carefully pick out the smaller shards from my knuckle.
I stared down at his light blonde hair as he concentrated. So far, Luke was the only person who could touch me without me feeling sick. Ever since James abused me, I loathed anyone touching me. To combat this, I always wore my leather gloves.
Somehow, it acts like a shield to me. I don't feel sick touching anyone when I'm wearing them but without them, I would feel the urge to throw up and my breathing starts get quicker until I eventually pass out.
After Luke picked out all of the glass shards, he disinfected my hand and wrapped it in gauze.
"There! All brand new now! You should be fine within two weeks or so." Luke exclaimed as he finished.
He gathered all of the supplies and just when he was about to leave, I grabbed his hand.
"Thank you," I muttered.
"You're welcome. Now let go of me before I hit you."