Diminutive Life(18+)

Orson & Dorians Story(chapter 2)

My name is Orson. I was originally born in the City of Oakley in the state of Arlo. Later, I relocated to Sulani Island. Initially, I resided near the coast, but when I was three years old, I moved to Salm City. My life has been a series of ups and downs. My biological Mom, who was unable to provide for me, placed me in foster care. My first foster home was toxic and abusive, while my second foster home ostracized me. Fortunately, my third foster home became my permanent home when I was adopted by my current parents, Ariana Amelia Barlowe and Rune Alexander Barlowe. I also gained a brother named Dorian Aaron Barlowe.

I was a reserved and introverted child. By the age of five, I had witnessed certain events that deeply affected me. At the age of six, I made the decision to leave home and wander the streets until I was fortunately discovered. To this day, the circumstances surrounding my survival during that period remain a mystery. My initial placement in a foster home was met with indifference. I recall the presence of numerous other children in that environment.

"Mommy, why are all my clothes packed?" Orson's biological mother was struggling financially and had lost her job. She could no longer take care of him, and the state became involved and threatened to take her to jail if she did not put Orson in foster care. "Orson, you are going to go with these very kind people, okay?" Orson looked around, confused. "What kind people, Mommy?" The people began knocking on the door, and after a few minutes, they started banging on it. Orson backed into a corner and was about to cry. "But I want to stay with you, Mommy." Orson's mother shook her head and crawled over to Orson. She held both his arms gently and looked him in the eyes. "Darling, you cannot stay with Mommy any longer. These people can take care of you better than I can." Orson rarely got new clothes, and they could not afford to pay the water bill or electric bill or even buy food, so he could not bathe or eat, and the same was true for his mother.

Eventually, they managed to break down the door. I recall my mother attempting to give me a final embrace, but they forcibly separated us. She valiantly fought to reach me, while I screamed and cried in distress.

"Mommy, please! I love you, I want to stay with you! Orson cherishes you, Mommy!" They forcibly separated us before placing me into a vehicle and departing while my mother observed from a distance. I could perceive her shedding tears, collapsing to her knees, and commencing to sob.

That was the last time I saw my mother. We were on our way to my new foster home. I recall being in a car seat with a social worker in the passenger seat and a male driver. The social worker attempted to make conversation with me, but I was indifferent and refused to speak. She turned around, and the car ride was silent for the remainder of the journey.

We finally arrive, and the social worker opens the car door. She then unbuckles me and helps me out of the car. I am then greeted by a strange-looking man and his wife. The woman's hair looks dry, greasy, and matted, and she is wearing a long dress. She is also rather heavyset.

The man had a patchy beard. He was balding on the top of his head and wore glasses. He was thinner than his wife. He had brown eyes.

I felt weird about the man, but I never thought much of it. They begin escorting me to the door. I can hear a bunch of kids playing through the door. The strange man says, "Come on in, little one." The woman with him nods. I step in, and immediately kids run up to me with curiosity. "Hey, a new kid!" one says. "Why does he smell stinky?" another says. "Why is he wearing such strange clothes?" one more says.

The man shoos the kids away. "Now, now, give the kid some space," he says. Then he smiles at me and says, "Welcome, make yourself at home. We have some fresh clothes in the bathroom for you. Go take a bath." The social worker lady says her goodbyes and leaves. I then nervously ease my way to the bathroom past the group of kids. One of them turns around toward me and points, pinching their nose. "Ew, stinky boy!" they exclaim. They all turn around, and I hurry to the bathroom. I can hear them laughing at me as I slam the door.