Solitude, his dearest and best friend. But they wouldn't even let him have it. Oftentimes, when the eye of the social workers was away from them, they would use him as a punching bag. A real, live punching bag. All he could do was coil in a corner and sing a song to distract his mind from the pain. By now he had exhausted them all and he vowed that the next time they would attack him, he was going to fight back. He had been in the place so long, but still he could not feel at home.
Like a bull going around in a stall where he knows he is king, Sebastian moseyed in the hallway with his legion of followers flanking him on either side. He was a tall and chubby boy nearing twelve years of age. His size made him the alpha of the pack, and also a correction to the old adage that claims size does not matter. It does, and there were sixty-seven kids within the home that could attest to it.
