She came looking for him at dawn. He heard her cross the room and the little boy, hoping to hide himself, slipped deep under the bedding. But there was no escape that way. She tore off the covers and dragged him sobbing out of bed. He begged and pleaded the entire time as he looked up hopefully, but the expression of grim determination on his pale face told him there should be no mercy. She struggled to escape, but the hands around her upper arms tensed, her bright red nails digging into the flesh of her slender arms. He screamed, went limp, and when she shifted, his grip released and he headed for the door.

But he was there and he filled the opening from top to bottom and side to side. It wasn’t fair that he couldn’t fight both of them. The figure in the doorway leaned over, large, callused hands lifted the boy out of the room, threw him on the bathroom floor and growled, ‘Wash yourself! 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 crossed, his blue eyes as hard as ice. The boy’s shoulders sagged, it wasn’t good; I would have to move on. It was washed and dried.

It hadn’t been like that at first. At first they had been friendly. The man leaned over, ruffled his hair and asked what he had been doing that day and looked at the red face with the warm blue eyes and the friendly smile and told him everything he knew.

She had also been different; She had smiled a lot, she had a habit of removing her blonde hair from 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 she had fooled him. But last night, when he sneaked out for a glass of water, he overheard them talking about their plan to get rid of him. So he had tried to escape, but the man had caught him and forced him to return to his room.

The man led him from the bathroom to the kitchen, where they forced him to eat. She left the room and came back in a uniform and had him put it on. Black shoes, then socks, pants, shirt and jacket, all dull gray except for the symbol on the jacket which was bright yellow. Then 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. It was wrapped in the back; she came with him and took his hands to rule out any chance of escape. Ten minutes later they parked the car and walked toward the building. It was now or never, he ran away, he could hear the screams and the clatter of boots behind him. It didn’t get very far; the man caught him before he reached the corner. Then he relented, but he 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. When he was pushed through the door, he knew this was the end. He joined the line of other gray-clad children, and shuffled through the door, closing behind him. His first day at school had begun.

Copyright Worldwide Fred Watson 2006