It was a pleasant afternoon, with the sun shining warmly overhead, and cool breeze blowing back his hair. Harry was lying down on his front under a tree, shaded and comfortably settled on the soft carpet grass beneath, hard at work as he did the day's assigned homework, scribbling furiously with his left hand. He was getting more proficient at using his left hand now; it barely matters that he could not use his right hand as his wrist was still mending.

"Hey Harry," a voice said softly.

Harry turned around, and smiled upon seeing who it was. "Daniel. What's up? Come sit down." Harry patted the patch of grass beside him. Daniel sat down, seemingly deep in thought. Harry waited for him to speak, sensing that something was troubling him.

" Harry," Daniel began hesitantly. " I- I was adopted this morning. And... and I'll be leaving with them tonight."

Harry was shocked, " Wha- what? That... that means you're leaving me too?" his lower lip trembled at the thought of losing his friend. More than that, they were like brothers.

I know it's really abrupt and sudden. I was also surprised when they chose me, after all I'm already so old and it's rare that people want to adopt a teenager," Daniel said in a rush. "But I'd always longed for a family. I- I really hope you'd be happy for me…" he trailed off.

Harry tried to control his tears. "Of course I'm happy for you Dan. Don't forget about me when you're gone ‘kay? We'll always be best brothers," he said, slipping into an old nickname for Daniel, giving him a rather watery smile.

"Of course! Of course… you're the only brother I have." Daniel hugged Harry fiercely, a tinge of sadness in his voice. He pulled back and gave Harry a smile, albeit a forced one, "So what should we do today little brother?"

Harry saw that Daniel was trying to put on a cheerful front for him, for them, to make this separation easier. He attempted to smile back, putting some enthusiasm in his words, "Whatever you want to do." His voice softened, "I'm happy as long as you're with me."

Daniel looked at Harry's face, and saw the sincerity of his words in his emerald green eyes. Those eyes say so much, conveying love, understanding, and… sadness in their depths. He shook himself mentally and pulled Harry onto his feet, "Well let's go! Won't want to waste anymore of this lovely afternoon, would you? Race you to the park!" he shouted playfully before taking off.

"Hey! No fair! You got a head start!" Harry protested, and laughingly ran after him, determined not to think about the separation now.

Dan was already on the swings when Harry reached there, his face flushed, and breathing fast from the race.

"Cheat… ter... bug…" he gasped out.

Daniel only smiled cheekily at him, his eyes gleaming mischievously. "Well, what forfeit shall you have for losing?"

"Oh no, you don't!" said Harry, slowly backing away as he saw the wheels turning in Dan's head coming a full circle. He turned to run, anticipating what was coming. But Daniel was too fast, pinning Harry on the grass and proceeded to tickle him mercilessly.

"Oh! Oh- stop! Stop! I can't- can't breathe… hah… hah…" Harry alternated between laughing helplessly and protesting weakly, catching his breath in the short respite from being tickled. Daniel finally relented and let him up. Harry just lay there on the grass, recovering from the bout of tickling. He then sat up and scowled at Dan, trying to look angry but failing miserably as it only made him look more adorable with his face screwed up. Dan tried to look properly cowed by his look but ended up bursting in laughter, earning a hurt look from Harry.

"I'm sorry Harry, it's just that it's impossible for you to look scary with that face," Dan said, still laughing.

"Ya, I know. It's just so awful being adorable no matter what," Harry sighed theatrically.

"Yah right." Dan rolled his eyes at Harry's dramatic proclamation.

"Glad you agreed," he replied impishly, green eyes sparkling.

Dan let out a long- suffering sigh, "Ok ok, I give up."

Harry only gave him an innocent look that seemed to say, "Who? Me?"

Dan shook his head resignedly at that and suggested, " You wanna play the swings now? I'll push you."

Harry nodded and climbed onto the swing, hands holding the ropes at his sides. There was a rush of wind in his face as Dan gave a great push, sending him high into the air. "Wheee! This is so fun!" he cried to Dan. Dan gave him an indulgent look, and pushed even harder, sending him higher, while smiling at his obvious happiness. ‘Ah, the simplicity of childhood…' Dan thought wistfully.

The two boys spent the whole day together, sitting on swings, splashing water at each other from the pond, chasing each other around the park, teasing and having fun. They watched the sun set over the horizon in silence, the orange ball of light moving lower in the sky. Pink, purple and orange streaks coloured the sky, painting a very pretty picture. Unfortunately it also marked the end of the day as dusk was fast approaching, and reluctantly the two boys went back to the orphanage.

Daniel's adopted parents were already waiting for him. Dan hugged Harry one last time, and Harry clung to him desperately, not wanting to let go. Daniel pried Harry's arms from his neck and whispered, "Good bye, dear brother. I'll write. Take care of yourself."

Harry's throat constricted, on the brink of tears. ‘I mustn't cry. It will make Dan sadder. I must be brave for him. I'll be happy for him.' he thought. "Bye," he choked out. " I'll miss you."

Silence. There is nothing else to be said. Nothing else can be said, the unspoken words resounding more clearly and loudly than anything.

He watched as Dan turned from him and walked away. Everything in him was screaming ‘Don't go!' But it is not possible to change things. Harry resisted the impulse to run after Dan and hug him, pleading for him to stay. He could only watch, standing still in the walkway long after the car disappeared from sight, silent tears falling. In his state of paralysis, he vaguely felt a comforting hand on his shoulder, accompanied by a soft whisper of a feminine voice carried by the wind, "Hush, my child, don't cry. Everything will be all right, you'll see…"

All around the children were playing amidst the shrieks of laughter and joy. Only one lone boy sat by himself under a tree, watching the activities with indifference. It was not normal to see such a look on a young boy. But Harry had become more withdrawn after Dan left, immersing himself in books more than ever.

He did not normally mix around with the other children, but it quickly became apparent that they were avoiding him more than usual due to some unknown reason. It was almost as if he had the plague. ‘Yes, 'avoiding him like a plague' would be an appropriate phrase to use. It is most curious,' he thought, frowning when he remembered the incident that happened a few days ago.

"Bang!" came the sound, as someone crashed into Harry.

"Sorry, didn't see you around the corner," the other boy apologized as he bent down to pick up his fallen books.

"Here, I'll help you." Harry handed him a few books.

"Thanks." The other boy looked up, and froze for a second before quickly backing away. "Er… er- bye," he stuttered and ran off hurriedly, leaving Harry to stare after him in puzzlement, wondering what the hell just happened.

It was then that he noticed the other kids around acting strangely, all of them giving him a wide berth. It wasn't that he craved company but he knew that this was getting ridiculous when they kept scrambling off the moment he came near.

All right, he'd had enough. "I'm gonna get to the bottom of this today." He stalked determinedly towards one of the kids and cornered him before he could run off like the others. "Ok, what's going on? Why is everyone avoiding me?"

"Er.. er.. I don't know!" said the smaller boy, looking around desperately.

"Tell me and I'll let you go," he coaxed softly.

The boy wavered, and finally blurted out, "Everyone's avoiding you ‘cuz they're scared of Keleman. He told us to leave you alone and they don't wanna get on his bad side."

Harry was stunned, letting the boy go in his distraction. ‘But why?' he thought, bewildered. ‘Didn't I help them? Why do they avoid me because Keleman says so? He is the bad guy, I'm their friend.' His six-year-old mind could not comprehend the instincts of self-preservation. He only knew that good guys were right; bad guys were wrong. To his way of thinking, there was a clear line separating right and wrong, good and evil, white and black. No shades of grey in between. So to him, listening to the bad guy is definitely a ‘wrong' thing to do.

He tried to persuade the other children to his way of thinking. "Keleman is bad. Why do you let him control you? He is mean and beats us all the time. We should fight against him," he declared passionately.

All the other kids were standing at least 3 metres away from him, keeping their distance. They looked at him as if he had lost his mind. "You are mad. Fight against him? What can we do? We are only children and he will only beat us more severely if we do that," a voice spoke up from the back, causing the others to nod in agreement.

"But... but we can't just live in fear of him and do nothing," Harry protested.

"You go ahead if you want to but we are not doing anything. Keleman already beats us for no reason. Who knows what state we might end up in when he actually has one?" With that, the group scattered amidst the murmuring, leaving Harry to stand there by himself, alone again.

In contrast to the younger kids avoiding him, the bullying from the older boys had started up again, namely trouble in the form of Derrick and his gang. He strutted around smugly as there is no one to stop him from bullying Harry who was free-game now that Dan was gone.

‘This is getting soooo old,' thought Harry as he ran from the bullies. ‘There must be a better way to end this than running away every time.' Suddenly a brilliant idea struck and he ran towards the warehouse at the end of the street, turning at the corner and hid himself under a car. He heard them trampling past and Derrick's voice saying, "He can't have disappeared. Maybe he hid in the warehouse. Let's go in and check."

Hearing that, Harry smirked to himself and counted to ten, "1, 2, . . . 8, 9, 10..."

"Ah!" followed the collective screams of the boys as 3 vicious-looking watchdogs chased them out of the warehouse, barking and snipping at their heels. "Help! Help!"

Their voices faded away as they disappeared down the street. Harry allowed himself a small chuckle at their unfortunate fates. ‘Trust them to be stupid enough to fall for the trap. First rule of the book: Never walk into enemy territory blindly. Everyone knows that there are watchdogs in the warehouse. They probably didn't even pause to think before entering,' he thought scornfully. ‘Well, better go and enjoy the rest of my afternoon before they get back from exercising the dogs,' he snickered.

He spent the rest of the day under his favourite tree, reading about the Salem Witch Trials and wondering why people could be so ignorant and superstitious to the extent that more than twenty innocent people died. The evidences for their convictions of witchcraft were totally absurd. Harry was interrupted from his indignant thoughts by the pathetic sight of Derrick and his gang walking up the path to the gate. Their faces were smudged with dirt and their clothes had grass stains and mud on them; parts of it were even jagged and torn. And one of them was limping slightly. They glared at him as they passed, but Harry just looked innocent and pretended to read his book, surreptitiously keeping an eye on them in case they tried anything on him.

Since that incident, Derrick and his gang tread around Harry carefully, giving him wary glances. Needless to say, they also stopped bothering him, having learnt their lesson that he was not to be trifled with. Keleman, however, is another matter.

"You insolent brat! How dare you talk back at me? I'll teach you to be respectful to your elders. Oh yes I will…" Keleman lashed out at Harry, finishing his tirade with a malicious smile. He then grabbed Harry by his upper arms and dragged him to his office, leaving the other orphans to stare after them. He pushed Harry inside and locked the door behind him before going to a cupboard, seeming to search for something. Harry lifted his chin and stared defiantly at Keleman, masking his fear with anger. But his mask slipped when he saw what Keleman held in his hands.

It was a round wooden baton 18 inches long, 1½ inches wide, and clad in a light green woolen cloth. Each end had ¼ inch strips of the green cloth stitched around as a sort of decoration. There were nine tails of a stoutish cord, each 24 inches long. The tails were knotted 3 times each at approximately ½ to 2 inches intervals, and the tips were bound with thread (to prevent fraying). The first knot was about 2 inches from the end of each strand.

Harry turned pale and his eyes widened as he recognised the object for what it was. A bloody cat-o'-nine-tail. He vividly remembered something he had read on corporal punishments in the 18th century. [Lashes (being struck with a whip) were administered in the hundreds at a time and sometimes the prisoner died as a result. He was often scarred for life. Often the whip was the dreaded "cat 'o nine tails" which was a whip with nine separate woven tails with a knot and three strands at the end of each one…] The book even had a ghastly picture of a man who had been whipped. He shuddered involuntary. ‘ I thought those things extinct ages ago. Where did he get that?'

‘Ok, this is not good.' Harry watched fearfully as Keleman advanced on him with the instrument of torture in his hands, too shocked to run. The caretaker took advantage of this as he tied Harry to a chair and stripped him to the waist, leaving him bound and helpless. He fingered the whip almost lovingly, a sadistic twist to his lips. "You know, I haven't had to use this for a long time," he said conversationally. "But I'm sure there's nothing that a good lashing can't fix. And that includes your insolent tongue and defiant behavior."

Harry closed his eyes as Keleman raised the whip, sending a plea heavenward, ‘Somebody save me'. Keleman brought the whip down with a "crack", striking on Harry's bare back. Harry clenched his jaw, preventing a scream. At first it only caused a mild stinging, but Keleman kept bringing down the whip on the same spot, striking weakened flesh repeatedly. It gradually became more painful as his skin broke open, exposing underlying muscles and bleeding flesh. "Ah! Help! Stop! Please stop… I won't do it again…" he screamed as the pain became too much, sobbing and pleading for mercy.

Keleman gave a few more lashes for emphasis before he finally stopped. Stepping back, he glanced at the boy's lacerated and bruised back, admiring his handiwork for a second before bringing his full attention back to the broken boy hanging limply from the chair. "See that you remember this lesson, boy," he said coldly. Harry, already barely conscious, slumped to the floor in a dead faint as he was untied, welcoming the darkness that brought oblivion from the pain.

Keleman looked down and frowned at the unconscious boy. It was all well and good to punish children when they misbehave, but he would get into trouble with the law if the silly boy died from all those bleeding. ‘Boys these days can't even take a little beating,' he thought in disgust. ‘Well, better get someone to bandage him up before he bleeds all over my carpet and does more damage to it.' So he left, leaving Harry alone in the dark.

No one saw an ethereal figure with copper red tresses bending over the unconscious boy, smoothing out his hair from his sweaty brow, murmuring soothing but indiscernible words. Some would say it was a hallucination, others would think it a ghost. But no one saw. And no one heard her sorrowful last words as she flickered out of sight, an echo of "I'm so sorry…" fading into the darkness.

Harry opened his eyes slowly, acutely aware of the pain in his back. How could he not be? Every nerve was screaming in protest. He looked around and realised that he was lying in his own bed, his back bandaged. ‘Strange. Who would be so nice?' he thought. He had fully expected himself to wake up still in Keleman's office, dried blood caked on his back, or perhaps he would not wake up at all, having died from the lashing. ‘Oh of course! Keleman. After all, he wouldn't want me to die on him and be jailed for child abuse and attempted murder.' Harry thought sardonically. ‘ That shrewd, sadistic, scheming bastard.'

Sitting up carefully, he walked slowly down to the dining hall where the orphans have their meals, his injuries paining him with every step he took. All the other children looked subdued, having heard the screams that came from Keleman's office the day before, knowing that something terrible had happened to him. They just don't know how terrible, or the extent of his injuries. Looking around at them, he saw that no one dared to meet his eyes, all staring at their feet and fidgeting guiltily.

After a few moments of silence he finally understood something: no one was going to help him. No one was on his side. Despite those times that he had helped them, no one would lift a finger to help him for fear of getting into trouble with Keleman.

His eyes hardened, and his face smoothed into a blank mask. He would not beg. He would not plead with them. He was too proud for that. And he knows it would not change their attitude towards him; he might as well save himself the humiliation. So he walked from the hall with whatever dignity he had left, his movements rigidly controlled, not sparing at backward glance at those whom he had once regarded as friends. Not close friends perhaps, but growing up together in the same orphanage should count for something. Before, they had stuck together and stood up for one another. But now they… even Dan was gone…

Once outside, he ran to the park where he and Dan used to play, where they used to laugh and have fun. Those happy times seemed a world away from the reality now. There, he allowed the tears to fall, crying for his loss of a dear brother, of innocence, of childhood, being forced to grow up faster than he should in a brutal world where good means nothing and people of authority and power always win. He cried until he could not cry anymore, until there were no more tears left.

‘I will not cry again,' he vowed resolutely. ‘There is nothing more to cry for. It is a sign of weakness I can't afford.'

He remembered thinking once ‘He is the bad guy, I'm their friend.'

‘Hah! What a joke!' he thought bitterly, hurt at their betrayal. ‘Who needs enemies when you have friends like this. Friends who would turn their backs on you just to protect themselves. I don't need friends. I don't need anyone. I'll take care of myself and what's mine, to hell with the rest of them! Who cares about standing up for what's right? Only power and authority truly matters in this world.'

From that moment on, Harry underwent a complete transformation. He became cold and calculative, his face an impassive mask, never showing any emotions that might betray his true feelings or intent. He kept his distance, watching and observing in silence, filing away any information or detail that might be useful. Gone were his naive notions of right and wrong, of fairness and justice. He only knew that no one would watch his back, so he'd have to look out for himself.