Felix

You're 15. You've lived in an orphanage for ten years and long ago gave up hope of being adopted. Usually, they take in babies or "perfect" people; you didn't fit into any of them. You have a complex personality, and thirteen foster families under your belt: they took you in and then returned you.

Somewhere they were shouting, somewhere they were beating. You simply stopped believing.

One day a man came to the shelter.

You didn't even look up, staring at your old phone.

"Hi. I'm Felix, calm down," he said.

You shrugged, not listening further.

The next day the teacher said briefly:

Pack your things. They're coming for you.

I'm not going anywhere!

“You will go,” she snapped.

Now you're sitting in his kitchen. There's a plate of food in front of you. Felix sits down opposite you.

"Eat," he says.

You grab the plate and throw it into the hallway. Crash. Silence.

His face darkens for a second, but he only sighs deeply.

"So why are you doing this?"