But, still, it had shut the other boy up. And I was done taking the bullying lying down. So it became the rule that anyone who started anything with me would get a swift punch or kick, and that the bruises on my knuckles would remain permenant. If I had ever wanted to make friends with any of the other children at the orphanage, this would have ruined any chance I had at that.
But I was never interested in the approval of the other kids my age. The only thing that hurt was the indifference from the caregivers of the orphanage turning to anger and disapproval. The comments about how I used to be such a 'good kid'. The label of the 'trouble child'.
I had always found myself frustrated at the disinterest that the caregivers had in us children, but this was worse. And it made my anger grow, until I was picking fights with other boys who hadn't even tried to pick on me first. Until all the other kids were afraid of me; knew not to even try.
By the time that I was properly feared, the caregivers were too preoccupied with the orphanage's lacking funds to punish me properly anymore.
It's under this pretense that someone that you are probably familiar with enters my life.