Two weeks earlier

The force of the shove made Nel stumble backwards. She tried to cushion the fall with her hands, which resulted in scraped palms and strained wrists. Tears sprang to the seven-year-old’s eyes, blurring her vision of the bullies smirking down at her. She didn’t have the strength to fight back anymore. Even at such a young age, she understood that there would always be some people full of hate, so much so that they couldn't be reasoned with.

“Hey! Leave her alone!” The familiar voice had the corners of Nel’s lips tugged up into a smile, despite the pain clawing up her arms. She knew he would always have her back. His voice had a heavy Spanish accent lining his words, just as hers did. Moving to England so suddenly had really put their knowledge of the language to the test.

Sen had always been tall for his age. It made him look a lot older than he really was, even though he was the same age as Nel. This seemed to be enough to scare the other children, since they looked to each other in uncertainty and retreated to the comfort of their parents.

Sen held his hand out to his sister who instinctively took it, letting him pull her up. She stood with an open stance, knowing from experience that he would be doing a mental check-up on her. And she was right. He was raking her over with intense eyes that held a serious but caring look. As soon as he saw the state of her hands, he linked his arms with hers. They began to make their way home, Sen never once meeting Nel’s gaze. She smiled at how shy and reserved he was, even though he had just held his ground for her with no problem. She loved her awkward twin very much; she slipped her hand into his, interlocking their fingers with care, letting him know. Nel began skipping and humming out of tune, while Sen smiled at the pavement and tried his best to keep up.

The alarm began screaming to wake Arsenio up. His exhaustion was evident in the bags under his blood-shot eyes. He knew he was going to be in a bad mood, so he prepared himself for a day of avoiding human communication. Reliving that memory on the first day back to school was probably the worst thing that could happen to him right now.

He brought his hands up to his face in a poor attempt to erase the painful memories that were forever engraved in his mind.

“Sen, I swear to God, if you don’t shut that bloody alarm up, there’s gonna be hell to pay!” He groaned in response to one of his sisters’ empty threats and turned his body over to lay on his stomach. Even like this, with his arm fully out-stretched, he couldn’t reach the alarm that was inconveniently positioned across the room. After giving up with his futile attempt, he rolled onto the floor with a thud and crawled pitifully to stop the relentless beeping.

The Alarm was just Level One of his daily morning routine. He trudged downstairs towards Level Two: The Battlefield (also known as The Kitchen). Little children half his age or less were running around left, right, and centre, either screaming, arguing, or stuffing their faces with food. However, one by one, they began to fall silent. Sen was confused as to why all eyes were on him. Almost in perfect unison - which he found slightly disturbing - they started to cry, sobbing uncontrollably. He was confused beyond words until he realised that he still had his hair tied up in a messy bun, revealing the scars that laced the left side of his face: The longest one ran vertically from above his eyebrow to below his cheekbone with several smaller ones surrounding it. He hurriedly tugged out the band that held his hair in place and let his dark hair fall into its natural state, covering the horrors that were evidence of his unfortunate past. It wasn’t quite shoulder-length but it was long enough, and he had grown it in such a way that it covered the blinded eye and nasty scars. Sen tucked the right side behind his pierced ear.

His siblings were still flooding with tears and Sen had no idea how to comfort them. He always had trouble talking to people, so he preferred to stay silent. Just as he began stuttering trying to find the right words, Anne rushed to the rescue by dropping a massive pile of toys in the living room, calling the upset kids to come play and calm down. He silently thanked Anne for her patience and devotion to giving them all a secure home and infinite love.

Sen made his way to the door, hoping to slip away quietly while he still had the chance. That small flame of hope was extinguished when Anne called out to him, asking where he was going without eating breakfast.

“Hayes.” Anne understood from this single spoken word that he was planning to get breakfast at Hayes, their local convenience store, before he caused any more bedlam in the already unruly house.

“Alright then, Sweetie. Remember to smile and have a great first day!” Anne spoke with a sickeningly pretentious tone. He knew that it would work on the younger foster kids, but it had always just worn him down. Besides, he wasn’t even a kid anymore.