Feral Child

Not a lot of people know my story, so consider yourself privileged to hear it. Or unfortunate, for I have been told that my life up to this point has been heartbreaking and inhumane. Although for me I just consider my life, it has happened and now it's trapped in the past. Nevertheless my story starts identical to everyone else's; with my parents.

The air was always thick with this hypnotic smoke up in my old and musty environment. The effect on me was much like the effect on bees when they are smoked out of their hive; I slowly stumbled about the rough and splintered floor. At some points the smoke was so thick that I couldn't see more than an arm's length in front of me. My food was given to me in very spread out times, later I found out that I would only get food every other day, but at the time I didn't even know what a day was. All I know is that a small door would open up and food would be carelessly tossed across the floor. Never did I see what delivered the food; never did I see another human, although at the time I didn't even know what a human was. I didn't know anything. It took me a long time to learn how to walk. Even longer to learn that food was supposed to be put into your mouth, chewed, and then swallowed. I was, what the court called, a Feral Child. I had no human contact what so ever, other than the delivery of food. I was never hugged, I was never hit, I was never talked to, and I was never even looked at. I was completely isolated from the world outside of my attic prison. I didn't know what things were, not even the floor, the wall, or my own hand.

I remember my removal from the attic very clearly. The smoke was especially thick at that time, and the room made smelly water surface on my skin. I didn't know what was going on, my instincts told me to hide, so the smoke and the heat couldn't get me. And I stayed trapped between, what I later was told to be, a chest and a box of winter clothing. There I curled up slowly feeling the habit to breathe getting harder and harder to uphold. Soon enough I felt like I couldn't fill my lungs at all, I crawled to where the food came and clawed at it, knowing that that was the only way I could get out. I breathed out and along with the breath came a sound, high pitched, piercing. I stayed like that for what seemed like forever for me, but in reality it had to be five minutes tops. I remember looking up at one point of my struggle, tears streaming down my face, and having my life flash before my eyes. It was only smoke and the attic. That is when my vision went completely black and I got a jolt of pain as my weak body hit the unforgiving bottom of what I thought was to be my coffin.

I came to with a bright white orb directly in my field of vision. I felt my arms and legs being restrained from shooting into the fetal position. The rest of my life went into a high speed blur. I was treated for burns, taught how to speak, how to learn, how to do put on clothing, basically everything. Luckily I inherited the trait of being quite fast paced learner, I could thank my parents for that. Oh wait, that is another sad detail to my sob story, I never did get to see my parents. I never faced them in court or anything; I never even got to see a picture of them. The photos were turned into piles of meaningless ashes in the fire, along with my actual parents themselves. And now where am I? A home with psychologists specially trained to deal with people like me, seventeen year olds who didn't even get to see the light of day until they are twelve. But I don't want pity for the life I led, I just want it to be known, so now all of you normal kids can know how lucky you are; even just for knowing your name from a young age.