As I stood next to Harry's body, my mind was pulled back into the past, to the days at the orphanage where I learned to toughen up and face the world without fear.
**The Orphanage:**
The orphanage always seemed like a gloomy and lonely place to me. It was an old building, with brick walls and dirty windows that barely let in the light. The air smelled of floor wax and old books, a mixture that became familiar over time. The laughter and cries of the other children constantly echoed, reminding me that I was never really alone, though I always felt isolated.
Director Warren, a woman with a stern face but a spark of kindness in her eyes, used to review the files of all the children. I remember her talking to Miss Hughes, her assistant, about me. I heard my name on one of those occasions and, curious, I got close enough to listen.
"It's as if he appeared out of nowhere," the director said about me. "There's no information about his family."
That conversation stayed with me. Knowing I had no roots, that I was a complete mystery, only heightened my sense of abandonment. Soon, the rumor that I had no family spread among the other children. It didn't take long for them to use it against me, as if somehow that made their own lives a bit less miserable.
**The Library:**
I would retreat to the orphanage library whenever I could. It was my sanctuary, a place where I could immerse myself in other worlds and forget, at least for a while, the loneliness I felt. I loved the smell of old paper and the soft light that came through the windows. Books offered me comfort and wisdom, teaching me about strength and resilience.
Every time I left the library, however, another battle awaited me. The children who skipped class were waiting for me, looking for an opportunity to harass me. I knew they just wanted to provoke me, but I couldn't help defending myself. I learned to fight, not because I wanted to, but because it was the only way to survive. Over time, I gained a reputation as someone you didn't want to mess with.
**Harry and Me:**
Harry, the janitor, watched me from afar. He was a robust man with a kind look that contrasted with his rough appearance. There was something about him that inspired trust in me. He didn't treat me with pity or condescension, and that made him different from every other adult I'd known.
One day, after a particularly difficult fight, Harry approached me as I was washing up in the bathroom. "You know? You're pretty strong for someone your age," he said, while picking up a bucket and mop.
"They force me to be," I replied, frowning.
"Fighting isn't always the answer," he said with a knowing smile. "Sometimes, ignoring is the best way to win."
That was the first of many conversations we had. Harry taught me more than I could have learned alone. He spoke to me of patience and finding strength in calm. Little by little, he became the father figure I never had.
I remember the day Harry offered me a way out of the orphanage. We were in the dining hall, as the rain gently tapped on the windows. "It's not fair what you go through here," he told me, his voice filled with conviction.
"What do you mean?" I asked, surprised.
"I'm thinking of leaving this place," he confessed. "Maybe opening my own business. And... well, you could come with me. We'd live better outside of here."
The offer took me by surprise. No one had ever wanted me enough to offer me a future. In the weeks that followed, Harry worked tirelessly to save the necessary money. Finally, on a sunny day, he showed up with the paperwork needed to take me with him. As we left the orphanage, I looked back one last time, leaving behind years of loneliness and suffering.
**Return to the Present:**
I returned to the present, the impact of my memories still echoing in my mind. I knelt beside Harry's body, hugging him desperately. My face was frozen in a mask of disbelief, but my eyes, filled with tears, betrayed the emotional turmoil inside me.
As the tears ran down my cheeks, I felt the world around me fade away. The loss of Harry left me empty, as if a piece of my own being had been ripped away. Amidst my pain, a determination began to form within me, driven by Harry's sacrifice and the need to honor his memory.
I whispered, my voice broken but determined: "I promise I'll live, Harry. I'll live for you."
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