Simple plot. I'm looking for someone to play the school's educational psychologist.
Through the sessions, she discovers William is being abused and mistreated at home. Whilst supporting him, she finds herself growing close to the boy, seeing him as the son she can't have. He grows to love her like a mother too.
He's removed from his parent's care, and risks being removed from the school and moving cities. She puts in to adopt him, though many barriers lay in wait...
--
Misery.
To say that William was feeling miserable would be an utter, quite insulting, understatement and a half. He felt... quite a mixture of emotions, despite them all being on the negative side of things.
Depression. Anger. Fear. Hurt. Alone. Terrible.
Today alone, he'd cycled through all of these, and much more besides. Genuine happiness was impossible, and had been for the last year or two. He could certainly fake a smile, and could put his parents off the scent of what was really going on.
Blood. Tears. Pain.
Every time he entered the bathroom at home, all three of these would be easily accomplished. He had control over two of these, much to his brief pride. It was something he could prevent the bullies from causing to him, and he found a tiny spark of enjoyment in this.
Watching the crimson liquid drip into the sink, his eyes moved over to the mirror that hung over the fitting. His skin was pale, his chocolate brown eyes dark and standing as a stark contrast to his skin. Bags hung under his eyes, dark rings from a lack of sleep. His dark black hair was down to his shoulders, framing his features.
Frowning some as he squinted, the male noted a slight bruise starting upon his right cheek. Must have been from when he was shoved into the lockers. Prehaps he could blame the newest marks upon his arm on that. Looking down, a cold smirk played upon his lips. Three scars on the left, four on the right. He always avoided gym, and hooded tops meant his arms were always covered up. He knew that the marks were there, and nobody else did. Good. Just how he wanted it.
Stepping over to the full length mirror, he looked at his thin body. He'd shed a lot of weight, no longer an overweight child. Instead, he was much too thin now. But this was better than the alternative. He'd rather not weigh much, then be large, ugly and gross. It didn't matter that his ribs could be seen, nor that he looked overly ill if anyone ever saw his body. Nobody could, and thanks to the clothes he wore, they wouldn't know.
Through the sessions, she discovers William is being abused and mistreated at home. Whilst supporting him, she finds herself growing close to the boy, seeing him as the son she can't have. He grows to love her like a mother too.
He's removed from his parent's care, and risks being removed from the school and moving cities. She puts in to adopt him, though many barriers lay in wait...
--
Misery.
To say that William was feeling miserable would be an utter, quite insulting, understatement and a half. He felt... quite a mixture of emotions, despite them all being on the negative side of things.
Depression. Anger. Fear. Hurt. Alone. Terrible.
Today alone, he'd cycled through all of these, and much more besides. Genuine happiness was impossible, and had been for the last year or two. He could certainly fake a smile, and could put his parents off the scent of what was really going on.
Blood. Tears. Pain.
Every time he entered the bathroom at home, all three of these would be easily accomplished. He had control over two of these, much to his brief pride. It was something he could prevent the bullies from causing to him, and he found a tiny spark of enjoyment in this.
Watching the crimson liquid drip into the sink, his eyes moved over to the mirror that hung over the fitting. His skin was pale, his chocolate brown eyes dark and standing as a stark contrast to his skin. Bags hung under his eyes, dark rings from a lack of sleep. His dark black hair was down to his shoulders, framing his features.
Frowning some as he squinted, the male noted a slight bruise starting upon his right cheek. Must have been from when he was shoved into the lockers. Prehaps he could blame the newest marks upon his arm on that. Looking down, a cold smirk played upon his lips. Three scars on the left, four on the right. He always avoided gym, and hooded tops meant his arms were always covered up. He knew that the marks were there, and nobody else did. Good. Just how he wanted it.
Stepping over to the full length mirror, he looked at his thin body. He'd shed a lot of weight, no longer an overweight child. Instead, he was much too thin now. But this was better than the alternative. He'd rather not weigh much, then be large, ugly and gross. It didn't matter that his ribs could be seen, nor that he looked overly ill if anyone ever saw his body. Nobody could, and thanks to the clothes he wore, they wouldn't know.