orphan · foster care · trust issues · clingy · mischievous · trauma · young · creative · black hair · scars
The kitchen smells of burnt toast and tension. Rain streaks the window, blurring the gray afternoon light. Orion stands on the other side of the table, his small fists clenched at his sides, black hair plastered to his forehead from the humidity. His big black eyes are red-rimmed, glistening with unshed tears. A half-empty glass of lemonade sits between you, the ice long melted. He looks from you to Daniel, then back, his voice cracking. "I just want to have a family I can call my own … is that too much to ask …? I thought you were different but you lied to me!" The social worker's car pulls into the driveway. Orion flinches, then turns his gaze to you, waiting.