Prologue A troubled childhood
Monday the twenty-fifth of March will always remind him of his troubled childhood. How they called it isolation, while he called it independence. The difference that would separate him from the world, but give him something that no one else would ever have.
"Come on everyone time to go outside!" one of the carer's said. "Yay!" squealed the children. The children ran outside into the small playground through the glass double doors. Little Toddlers Day-care has been running for three solid years, winning many awards in the Sydney South West Childcare Services Awards. Blood red stained walls or as they say, cherry red. Multiple awards and pictures hung from various points in the small room, with a small desk and chair to the far left. Toys and books are littered around the room as the children dropped them as they ran outside. One child is left in the room. "Come on little one, its nice and bright outside." The lady said. The boy didn't look up, but kept sitting down and looking at the floor.
The boy looked up as the door shut. The children outside chased each other around in circles. How he desperately wanted to be like them. The child surveyed the room. Only the receptionist was in the room, tiding up the toys the children spilled out of the large toy boxes and neatly placing the books back into the shelves. The boy stood up and waddled towards a Thomas the Tank Engine toy. He tripped over a small figurine. He didn't cry, not even a tear. He simply stood back up and kept on shuffling towards the toy. He plopped beside the toy as his hand reached out and started pushing the toy backwards and forwards while muttering "Toot! Toot!"
One of the glass doors slid open. "Shannon, are you coming out to play?" called the carer as she poked her head inside. The child shook his head. "Okay." She said, in one of those tones meant to energise children. The carer pulled her head back and slid the door shut again. They called it isolation, he called it independence.
