The following peice is an extract from an unfinished peice of mine about a boy who gets taken into a foster home. The foster parent, is a middle aged woman named Michelle who has never done this before. Unfortunately, Michael's past is so complex and horrible, she isn't allowed to know it. The story involves many aspects of his past. This extract is told from Michelle's perspective.
"My name is not Michael."
I was surprised, but not overly so, he had alluded to this fact before.
"Then what is your name?"
He shrugged his shoulders in an indifferant sort of way. Yet I could see, this issue was bigger a bigger deal than he was willing to admit.
"I don't have one. Or at least, I don't remember it."
"I have told you some of my life, you were shocked even by that. I can tell you that worse has happened to me. My name has been changed so many times to protect me from my past that my real one has gotten lost."
"Surely there are records, somewhere with your real name."
Again, a nonchalant shrug that was badly acted.
"Perhaps there are. But I am a minor with no official gaurdian. I have no way to reach them."
"I could go for you."
"That would be a waste of your time. I am under the witness protection program at least three times over, perhaps more. You are not a relative and thus, you cannot access those files either."
I hated the injustice of it. This boy couldn't even see his real name because of a legal technicality.
"Perhaps I could just keep calling you Michael for now."
"That would be alright." But by the sound of his voice I knew that this boy hated the idea of being called that name. I couldn't help but wonder why.
"Or perhaps I can give you a new name. Would that be alright."
Again a shrug. But I could tell he was happy with the idea.
"How about Sam."
"Not that name, almost died under that name."
This was going to be harder than I thought. "Nick?"
"No; there is a rapist out looking to kill the bearer of that name."
"Only reminds me of a kidnap."
"I must say you have had a very intersting life."
"And you wondered why I have nightmares."
"How about Peter?"
"That name belongs to a boythat nearly took a year to recover from wounds inflicted." I knew he meant himself. "But it was worth it."
"How do you mean?"
I saved my sisters from those wounds.
"You have siblings?" I was incredulous. "Why aren't they with you?"
"Because I have 34 brothers and sisters. Each one of them know me under a differant name."