Seeking A Family ✔

The First Encounter

A dark haired man with a high hat on his head and a brown travelling cloak was sitting in front of a table and reading the news, with his right leg crossed over his left, while taking his morning coffee. Wearing elegant trousers and well polished black shoes, with his hard features, which coupled well with his intense and powerful gaze, he was giving the impression of a hard-to-mess-with person. He didn't really like talking much to anyone, if there wasn't any good reason for it. Wherever he went, he was always assisted by his cane, because of an injury he had a long time ago. His leg was hurting him forever after, whenever he walked but his facial expressions never gave it away. That would be an indication of weakness and he wasn't weak.

Mr Rostwood was as bad tempered as he looked like. When at work, and someone interupted him, he could smash everything in front of him out of anger. When he wanted to achieve something and he failed, he would spend hours and hours trying again and again until he succeeded, and he would get fully annoyed with himself if otherwise. There were certain things, though, that annoyed him the most. He couldn't stand injustice - he couldn't stand human exploitation-he couldn't stand being under anyone's authority. But the most unbearable for him was people's indifference, passivity, people who were comfortable with their own lives and didn't care about what's happening around them. He thought that these people were to blame more than the ones who actually made others suffer with their actions.

He had already read the first page of the newspaper. That was the longest he had ever achieved to read before throwing it to the trash where it belonged. The news were never good-he was tired of how the majority had to live a tough life to make ends meet while the few rich had all they ever wanted and were, however, seeking for even more. So, naturally this time wasn't any different. The nerves hit him again after reading it and with an angry and confident move he shoved it at the trash can right next to him. He would be late for work if he didn't hurry, but he slowly got to his feet, grabbed his cane, got his work suitcase and started limping towards the door with his usuall heavy steps.

It was cold and windy outside and the sky had a heavy grey colour. He took out his pipe and started walking down the road smoking and assisted by his cane as always. Kids were playing and chasing each other in the middle of the street. He really hated them. They made too much noise and they played nonsense games all the time.

A young boy was running down the streets. He was short for his age and very thin. He was wearing a black jacket and a pair of jean trousers and was a bit cold. He didn't really mind, though. The street was empty, no cars, no people walking by. He had just gotten out of the orphanage, after of course taking permission from the Headmaster. He was so thankful he could again be out and free to go wherever he would like. When out like this, he always enjoyed being independent- he was feeling like he was the master of his life. He didn't even know when it was the last time he had the chance to be out from the orphanage by himself. He got tired of running now and started slowing down his pace.

Then, his eye caught a table in the corner of the street with some loaves of bread and sandwiches. He couldn't see anyone there though. Maybe the owner would arrive in a bit again. He was really hungry but he had no money. Surely it wouldn't mind if he took a bite of this delicious sandwich. He was streching out his small hand to reach it, when a cane landed painfully on his fingers. He flinched and turned back to see who it was.

A tall and imposing man was standing before him.

'What do you think you are doing young man?'
Mr Rostwood said sternly raising an eyebrow. His voice was calm but brought chills down the boy's whole body.

'I...I was just trying to look at their price, sir.'
the boy answered frightened.

'You really were.'
Mumbled Mr Rostwood, totally unconvinced, but keeping his voice low.

Then, the owner of the little street shop came. He was a somewhat fat guy with grey hair, pale skin and a boring expression on his face. He saw the two of them and managed a smile.
'How can I help you?'
He asked as politely as he could.

'I caught him stealing your products.' Mr Rostwood spat annoyed.

'What?'
The owner growled and his eyes widened. There was a sudden change in his expression as his eyes flared up and his cheeks flushed. The boy looked up at Mr Rostwood, the feeling of betrayal evident on his face.

The owner grabbed the little boy by the hand and started punching him wherever he could. The boy shouted for help and tried to save himself but couldn't. The man was kicking him hard and his body was now surrendered.

Mr Rostwood didn't wait to act. He rushed at the angry man and pushed him away from the boy, finally managing to release him. He threw at the owner the most poisonous look anyone could imagine. He wanted to hurt the man. He wanted to make him pay for what he did to the child. He took a deep breath, though, calming himself, and walked the kid away.

'Alright young man?'
He said to the kid without looking down at him.

'Everything would be if you hadn't told him in the first place!'
The boy shouted at his face.

It was all too much for Mr Rostwood. He looked hard at the boy and without thinking, he landed a heavy slap at his cheek.

The boy was shocked and fell down from the severe momentum.

'Where do you live?'
Mr Rostwood asked like nothing happened.

'I...I live in the orphanage there, sir.' He answered lifting a small and trembling finger to show him the direction he had come from.

Mr Rostwood had heard some things about that place-bad for the most part. He said nothing and remaining with his hard expression, walked away trying not to put too much weight on his right leg.

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