When Silence Met Madness

Seeing the lines of comments scrolling by, I stayed calm, expression unreadable.

Since I was little, I'd known the truth: everything in this world was a lie.

All of us were just characters in a story, made for someone else's amusement like toys. Because of that, I'd grown up lonely and strange and ended up with selective mutism.

I didn't think much of it myself.

It was only my mother who suffered, always trying to make me happy.

"Let go of me! That old man only broke his leg. He can still move his hands. Why can't he be our goalie? And anyway, he wanted to exercise himself—"

The little boy struggled against the hold but couldn't move. Hearing him, Edith Sinclair, the head of the orphanage, felt the veins in her forehead throb with anger as she shouted, "Quiet!"

Then, letting out a tired sigh, she rubbed her forehead and said helplessly, "Then, why yesterday did you hand Ms. Linton's bedpan to Leo and make him drink from it?"

The boy just went "oh" casually, sticking out his tongue in a cheeky grin.

"Leo likes sweet stuff, and Ms. Linton has diabetes, so I thought he should taste it—"

He didn't even finish his sentence before Edith slammed her hand against his head.

He yelped, baring his teeth in an exaggerated scream, quickly begging for mercy.

I couldn't help frowning.

It was so noisy.

I really didn't understand why my mother even came here. For someone like me, what was the point of having playmates?

I was just about to tug my mother away when she suddenly stepped forward, warmly taking Edith's hand, a satisfied smile lighting her face.

"Ms. Sinclair, I want to adopt him. I'd like to finalize the adoption today."

Edith panicked, sweat pouring down her face, shouting, "This can't happen!" while pushing the boy back.

The little boy, driven by his rebellious streak, went against Edith.

Every time Edith pushed him back, he would lunge forward. He screamed until his voice cracked, his small face flushed bright red. "Let me go! I'm grabbing all this luck for myself!"

But in the end, her strength won. He was dragged into a room.

The little boy banged on the door from inside, rattling it loudly, and pressed his face to the small glass window to peek out.

Edith wiped the sweat from her forehead. "Ms. Lane, you've seen for yourself. He's way too much to handle, and he's been unlucky his whole life. Wherever he goes, trouble follows. How could we possibly give a child like this to you?"

The boy had been screaming and kicking, demanding to get out, but Edith's words slowly quieted him.

Through the window, I saw him lower his head, leaving only a single tuft of hair visible.

I looked away after a glance, shaking my mother's arm to signal we should leave.

I had never wanted a little brother, and right now, that suited me perfectly.

But in the next second, my mother stepped forward, pushed the door open, and gently took his hand.

"Do you want to come home with me?"

At that, both the boy and I looked up simultaneously.

His eyes lit up, while my brow tightened.

My mother really planned to bring this loud, chaotic kid home?

Seeing his chance at being adopted, the boy nodded eagerly. "Mom! Take me with you!"

I sneered.

That was a fast turnaround.

My tiniest gesture caught his attention, and he let out an exaggerated, "Wow!"