Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

The repetitive sound echoed throughout the room. It was a pen dropped amongst the silence.

More ticks. More tocks. More abstract constructs of the universe passed with every second. 

The sound bounced off of the books on the shelf in the room. The dusty shelf that hadn't been touched by the janitors since it was installed. It echoed off of the painting on the wall- an abstract guesswork, misunderstood. The desk that sat, centered in the room, was a cold metal just like the ticking, tocking hands. 

The chair sat at the desk was also metal- an unfolded, uncomfortable chair fit for the luxury of no one. And attached to the chair, was more metal; handcuffs gleamed in the light of the closed window- the only object capable of turning the grey room of despair into something interesting. Something disgustingly joyous with a hint of doom.

A sigh broke the melody of the clock on the wall. A deep, familiar sigh. A sigh that has been in the same room fifteen times before. 

A boy sat in the chair. A sixteen-year-old boy was handcuffed to the chair of despair. How morally unethical.

Or at least, that's how he saw it.

Fifteen times. Fifteen times he had been sitting in this chair, waiting for his oppressors- his kidnappers to enter the room with a client to auction him off to. He would be taken away from his family. He would be ripped of his rights and liberty. The boy couldn't wait until he escaped their clutches, ran back to his family, and never saw his captors again. Sure, life with his family wasn't easy, but he wasn't about to leave them behind in search for happiness.

The boy heard footsteps, and dread pooled into his stomach. Here it comes: the torture.

The doorknob twisted; the door itself opened; and a big-breasted black woman walked in, holding that cursed clipboard and file. Her face drooped in distaste as she noticed the boy sitting, yet again, at the desk. Her thick glossy lips frowned, and her clean-cut bob of hair swayed as she shook her head.

"Nice to see you again, Dakota," she said with a voice as thick and rich as molasses. The boy didn't move, nor did he give her the satisfaction of acknowledging her existence. "Or not so nice," she decided, "I have some takers on you. Lucky dog. There are thousands of children in this home, and some don't ever get chosen. You take everything you have for granted, and I hate to see you here."

She grabbed a chair and two others from the side of the room. She unfolded them symmetrically. Two on one side of the table- one next to Dakota on the other side. She sat next to Dakota, her heavy body landing in the chair with a thump. The two sat in silence after that. The clock was still ticking, but this time, the woman added the flicking of papers to the silence. She had a pen attached to her clipboard, which she removed, and a chain around her neck holding a pair of glasses, which jangled when she placed the glasses on her nose. She flicked through his file, making sure everything was intact.

Then the dreaded knock, and, from behind the door, a sweet yet chilling voice cheered, "in here!" It was quiet behind the door, but as soon as the door was opened, it released an ear-deafening noise.

"Oh! We are so happy that you came to visit our dear Dakota today!" in stepped the lady of horrors- a motherly, elderly white woman with crinkly eyes and fading blonde hair curled in tight blocks. Her lipstick was so blindingly pink, it almost made Dakota as blind as she was. "Apologies for the handcuffs. I swear we show no harm to the children, here at Saint Lauder. This one...well, he likes to get up to mischief. Isn't that right, Grendale?"

"Mischief's a word for it," the black woman muttered under her breath at being addressed. The white woman gave her a fake smile that clearly told her to shut up.

"Yes, he is quite the troublemaker," the woman said, cheerfully to the two who followed her, "I hope you don't mind?"

A lot of people seemed to mind.

"Not at all," a man's voice replied. Dakota finally rested his interest on the couple who would be taking him away. To his utter shock, two masculine men stood by the door, holding hands as if they were lovers. Was he about to be taken by a same-sex couple? The man who spoke, the smaller one, met his gaze, "That's just how I like them."

"Oh, well then," the white woman smiled nervously, "I'll be going now. Mrs. Grendale will take you from here." The short one nodded, as if he was the one in charge.

"Please, sit," Mrs. Grendale said seriously. She was less cheery than that of the other woman. "Look through his files, and please consider. He is, however, our toughest kid to handle."

"Good," said the short one, picking up the file but not looking through it. Dakota tried to scare him away by glaring, but the man didn't seem phased. He didn't look like someone to be phased by anything. He was shorter than Dakota, but broader. He had muscles hiding underneath his Metallica shirt and leather jacket- Dakota could tell. Not to mention, his brown eyes seemed to stare into your soul. "I want him. When can we take him home?"

"You're serious?" Mrs. Glendale chuckled, "Today, if you want."

"Good, then I want-"

"No," Dakota said. He didn't want to leave. He didn't want to be taken away. He wanted to see his sisters again. 

The three adults looked at him.

"He speaks," said the taller of the couple. This man was equally as muscular, if not a bit leaner. He had a suit on- something that contrasted his lover's appearance greatly. And a very expensive watch and ring to boot. They both had rings. 

They must have been married.

"Oh trust me, he'll never stop talking once he warms up to you," she replied, rolling her eyes subtly, "I'll be right back with the papers in a second."

Mrs. Grendale left him in the room with the two men who were going to be absolutely nothing to him in a few weeks.

"Do you not want to be adopted?" the short one asked. Dakota hated this question. Of course not.

"No," he said, "Obviously."

"Why not?" the short one questioned.

"Why do you care? In a couple of weeks, I'll end up back here or I'll make you want to take me back. You don't get to know these things," Dakota glared. Again, the man seemed unphased. He shrugged with fake acceptance.

"I might be able to help if I knew why," the short one remarked, sitting back in his chair, his eyes narrowed. They had a standoff for several lingering seconds, before Dakota decided: Whatever.

"I have a family out there," Dakota clenched his teeth together, "I need to take care of them. I can't have the police and orphanages taking me away from them." The short one's eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"What family do you have?" he asked.

"Two sisters," Dakota mumbled, "They are out on their own without me. I need to get back to them. Please tell them you don't want me. Then I can escape this hell and go back to them."

"How old are they?" the short one asked.

"One is seven, and one is five-" Dakota tried to say, but was interrupted by the scraping of the metal of the chair. The short one rose from his seat in urgency. 

"There is a seven-year-old and a five-year-old out on the streets by themselves, right now?" he said. He turned to the taller man, who- in response- put his face in his hands.

"Xavier," the short man said to his husband, "We have to do something. We can't just adopt this kid and leave those two alone."

"Nick, I know what you're thinking, and I don't think it's a good idea," Xavier groaned, "We already have three kids."

"Please, Xavier," the shorter man latched onto his husband's arm, "Please." The shorter man- Nick- whispered something into his husband's ear. It was only then when Xavier let out a defeated sigh.

"You'll be taking care of them, right?" Xavier questioned Nick. Nick looked at Xavier with somewhat disbelief, determination, and a glare.

"Of course," he said stiffly. Xavier nodded.

"Sure then," he replied. Nick smiled slightly, but the smile wasn't all there. Then he turned to Dakota. 

"Would you be okay with us adopting you if we adopted your sisters too?" he asked, which caused Dakota's eyes to widen.

These people were insane. But clever.

He would have a home and his sisters- and they would have a home too? That definitely sounded like it was too good to be true.

"Uh...yeah?" he said unsure. Would they really do that? Who in their right mind would do that?

"Good," Nick smiled- but this time, it was a full smile- "Deal."

"I don't get it," Dakota wrinkled his nose, "Why would you-"

"He has a savior complex due to his parental issues and emotional past, and it's combined with a fondness for children," Xavier explained, "I wouldn't be surprised if we had fifteen kids by the time we divorce."

"Divorce?!" Nick sat up in a panic, "What are you talking about?!"

"If you swindle me into adopting fifteen kids, I'm divorcing you," Xavier explained. Nick crossed his thick manly arms and pouted.

"Fine then. I'll just adopt fourteen instead," he said pettily.

"Fine then," Xavier replied, "But they're yours, not mine." 

That seemed to be a touchy subject seeing as how Nick flinched with withheld anger. Living with them was going to be an experience, but they were offering an opportunity Dakota couldn't refuse.

When Mrs. Grendale entered the room, the couple quickly explained the plan, much to Dakota's surprise. They were actually going through with adopting three kids at once.

"Okay, here's what we are going to do," Mrs. Grendale said carefully, "You take Dakota home today, Mr. and Mr. Moore, and I'll deal with the girls. Once they get through the system, you can become their legal guardian. I'll contact someone to investigate the legality, and then we'll begin there." Grendale took the keys to the handcuffs, which she had stored in her brazier, and unleashed Dakota from his confines. However, unlike the previous times, he didn't run.

He didn't want to trust these two, but he wanted to believe what they said was true. It seemed like they were serious. So, he took a leap of faith.

"When will I expect you back, Dakota?" Mrs. Grendale asked quietly while the couple discussed the dent in their finances that will ensue after adopting three kids.

"If they adopt my sisters too..." Dakota furrowed his brow at the realization, "then never." 

The woman laughed and smiled.

"Looks like you have found your parents, huh?" she whispered, "F**king finally. I don't want to see your face ever again, unless you're adopting a kid. You're an awful child to deal with you know that? If I were you, my momma would have smacked my *ss."

"Yeah," Dakota said with an off-set smile to his face- as if he had forgotten how to smile- "I know." He felt his snake bites spread as he smiled; he hardly ever felt that sensation.

The four people rose from their chairs, Grendale shaking hands with both men. The men smiled at him with fond expressions, which he wasn't used to and was sure would change. 

He walked out the door with the two men- willingly- looking back at the room with hatred and nostalgia, wondering if he would ever see that room again, or if his life had just changed forever.