just a short thing i wrote when i was doing writing practise
“You can talk to it if you need to,” the Nurse’s gruff voice says behind me. I feel their hand on my shoulder, pushing me forward as if their previous statement was a command, rather than an invitation.
The metal doors slide sideways with a scream and the child looks at me, his eyes warm and strangely inviting. “Name,” I say flatly. I can’t show emotion to him. Nurse wouldn’t like it.
He’s still looking at me. No words.
“Your name,” I say again, “What’s your name?”
He smiles. Finally understands. Looks glad that he knows the answer to the question. “Swine!” he exclaims proudly, throwing his shackled arms into the air.
“I asked what your name is,” I clarify. He doesn’t seem to understand.
“Swine.” he says again, his arms now hanging limply by his sides. “Swine! Swine!” He chants the word, as if saying it more would make me believe that it was true.
“Your name, dammit!” I scream at him. He jumps at my outburst, sinking into the intersection of the stone walls.
“S-swine,” he says again quietly. “It’s wha’ they called me. So mus’ be my name.”
I stare. He’s small, skinny. Nurse say’s he’s ten, but he looks younger. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. I hope Nurse doesn’t hear me.
“I’m sorry,” he echoes.