No one was going to adopt a crazy kid who saw stuff, heard voices, and forgot about the passing of time. The state was also very unwilling to let me go, they were very afraid of another child dying in a foster home and bad press. So I stayed, as other children entered and exited the home, I stayed. As caregivers came and went, I stayed.I don't remember my parents, never even seen a picture, at first I wasn't allowed to see. Now I am afraid of seeing their faces again, afraid I will remember something about them, about something I can never have. I do remember my friends, imaginary friends or so I was told. They were my age young and small. There were a lot of them who came and went, but one stayed. A little girl with bright red hair and a fiery temper even at such a young age. We would play games together with the others but often just us. I remember the day before the explosion she told me she would marry me one day. Then I never saw her again, I never saw any of them again. I did. “Sure, one second.” “I look forward to meeting you, Michael,” Maggie added, again, with a slight seductive tone. Or maybe it was just me; maybe I was hearing something that wasn’t there. Sarah and Maggie talked for about a half hour. I made us some lunch. Sitting at the kitchen table, the tears dried and her face washed, Sarah rightly observed that I seemed more than happy that we did not have to go to the party. “Did I sense something from Maggie? There was something in her voice, like she knew something that I didn’t know.” Having taken a bite out of her sandwich, Sarah waited a few seconds before she responded. “She’s seen pictures of your cock.” “What?” I asked. “Maggie has seen pictures of your cock.” “Your pictures? The ones you took of me? How many people have seen those pictures?” “I’ve shown Maggie and some of the other girls all the pictures. Some were interested in the artistic portrayal; most were just interested in seeing your cock.” “And Maggie?” I asked. There was.
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