Been trying to upload this since last night, but the stupid Doc Manager upload wasn't working. Very frustrating.
Spencer learned to watch the people around him. He noticed who truly, genuinely believed that he was some sort of demon child, and who simply didn't disbelieve it. Some avoided the issue altogether, ignoring him, and a few didn't believe it at all but either didn't care to interfere or weren't brave enough. Those last ones didn't meet his gaze and only practiced small kindnesses when no one was watching. He soaked up what little decency he could get, but wasn't sure how to feel about them.
The children of the town didn't really understand. They imitated the behavior of the adults, and took advantage of what was essentially blanket permission to vent their naughty impulses on him. It was okay because Spencer was bad, and he was bad because everyone said so.
The orphanage children tricked him with invitations to play hide and seek several more times before growing bored with it. Spencer fell for it every time, willingly, hopeful that maybe this time they really did want to play with him. But he wasn't surprised when they didn't. When he spent hours each time learning from Her in the woods and practicing Her lessons, because no one was looking for him and no one would.
It wasn't a surprise, but it still hurt.
They took to shoving him in closets and other small, enclosed spaces instead, locking him in when they could. Spencer supposed they got the idea from the few times Mrs. White had locked him in the supply closet as punishment.
Like much of the older generation, Mrs. White, believed that there was truly something evil at his core. He thought maybe her punishments were to make sure that evil remained buried, or maybe excuses to vent her fear.
Whatever the reason, he was often the one in trouble for being found in cupboards and crawlspaces, or for not coming when called. On rare occasions the other children might be punished for putting him there, if caught in the act or forgetting to have others back up their lies. But that seemed more from reluctant obligation than anything else.
As much as Spencer disliked Mrs. White, however, it was her brother that he strove to avoid. All of the children did. Groundskeeper and handyman, Mr. Taylor had his own domain at the orphanage, a shed on the edge of the yard. Spencer gave it a wide berth, going so far as to enter the trees on the opposite side of the property and swinging wide to ensure he never crossed the other man's path if his training with Her sent him in that direction.
He hated the way Mr. Taylor looked at him. The other boys sometimes, too, but especially him. Spencer didn't know why, but that heavy stare made him uncomfortable. It frightened him and often caused Her fur to bristle.
He thought the other kids felt it too. They didn't like the man either and stayed away.
But there was proof, a glimmer of hope that they didn't hate Spencer. That someday maybe they might genuinely invite him to play. Might warm up to him.
Because for all that they laughed when they shoved him into small, dark spaces, they never ever tried to lock him in that shed.