She came for him at dawn. He heard her cross the room and the little boy waiting for cover, slipping deep under the bedclothes. But there was no escape that way. She tore at the sheets and dragged him sobbing out of bed. He begged and pleaded all the while as he looked up hopefully, but the look of grim determination on her pale face told him he was going to show no mercy. He struggled to escape, but the hands around his upper arms tightened, their bright red nails digging into the flesh of his skinny arms. He cried out, went limp, and when she shifted his hold on her, he broke free and bolted for the door.
But he was there, and he filled the opening from top to bottom and from side to side. It wasn’t fair that he couldn’t fight both of them. The figure in the doorway bent, his big calloused hands lifting the boy up, carrying him out of the room, onto the bathroom floor, and snarling, ‘Wash up! And don’t even think about trying the window. I’ll be here, right behind you.
He looked at himself in the mirror, the man standing behind him with his arms folded, his blue eyes as hard as ice. The boy’s shoulders slumped, to no avail; he would simply have to move on. He washed and dried.
It hadn’t been like that at first. At first they had been kind. The man would bend down and ruffle his hair and ask him what he had been doing that day and he would look at her red face with the warm blue eyes and friendly smile and tell her everything he knew.
She too had been different; she smiled a lot, she had a habit of brushing her blonde hair out of her face which was nice, and best of all, she would tuck him in and read him a bedtime story.
But it had all been a sham, a trick, to lull him into a false sense of security, and he had been fooled. But last night, when she’d snuck out for a glass of water, she’d overheard them discussing his plan to get rid of him. He then tried to escape, but the man caught him and forced him back into his room.
The man led him from the bathroom to the kitchen, where he was forced to eat. She left the room and came back with a uniform and forced him to put it on. Black shoes, then socks, pants, shirt and jacket, all drab gray except for the jacket symbol which was bright yellow. Then she came the cap, also gray, with the same yellow symbol on the front.
With a satisfied look on their faces, they led him to the car. He was tied up in the back; she came with him and held her hands, eliminating any possibility of escape. Ten minutes later they parked the car and walked towards the building. It was now or never, she made a break, she could hear the screams and the clatter of boots behind him. He didn’t get very far; the man caught him before he reached the corner. He gave up then, but didn’t let them see him cry.
They dragged him past high walls with black railings, to the door that had an arch above it with the same yellow symbol. As they pushed him through the door, he knew this was the end. He joined the line of other children dressed in gray and shuffled through the door, which closed behind him. His first day at school had begun.
World Copyright Fred Watson 2006