Full Disclosure: Who is The Catastrophe Syndrome? Part II

Any moron could see that my previous entry was mostly derived from third-person accounts, official government records, and the hearsay of my personal research/interrogations… naturally, I don’t remember any of that stuff.  Its safe to say my years as an infant, and then a toddler, were more or less uneventful… I ran, I played, I cried, I pissed and shit my diapers, et cetera… the other children at the orphanage seemed to like me and would make me the leader of all the games, and always play by my rules… life was good, in so far as I can remember.

My first vivid memories occurred when I was 6, or perhaps 7 years old, when I first began to realize the power I had over people…. and when I was adopted by Aaron and Carol Zuwinski.

The other children at the orphanage and I had a game which I’d invented,  where I would sit indian-style on the end of the oval-shaped carpet that stretched out in front of the sofas in the 2nd floor common room, and one of the other kids (It didn’t matter which, they ALL wanted to play and get to be the one) would lay down in front of me… and the rest of the kids who were playing would stand in a line on the other end of the carpet… and I’d give the laying down kid a push, and they’d start rolling on their side, usually gleefully shouting “Whhhoa!  Whhhoa!  Whhhoooa!!!” as they rolled towards the giggling, standing kids.   The ’standers’ kept  saying things like ‘Oh no!’, ‘Here they come!’ and ‘We’re all gonna go boom, eeeee!’ in excited tones, making each other laugh….and then when the roller hit the other kids’ legs, they’d all tumble down in a pile, laughing like they were having the greatest time in the world.  I called the game ‘Tumblers’ and whoever the roller was got to be ‘Tumbly’.  It didn’t make a lot of sense, but then, we were kids; it didn’t have to, it was fun… at least, I know I thought so.

Today’s Tumbly was Gwen, a tall-for-her-age and skinny girl with a scar along her left jawline, long brown hair, brown eyes, and a smile that never went away.  She didn’t talk much about herself, or how she got her scar, but she was always smiling… I remember liking that about her.  I think she was about a year or year and a half older than me.

As Gwen rolled toward the standers, the door to the common room opened and closed… and when Gwen hit the standers’ legs with an ‘Oompf!’ and they all fell down giggling, from my point of view it revealed Aaron and Carol standing behind them, holding hands and regarding us with warm amusement.  I gasped.  The rest of the kids turned and looked, and gasped too, and got real silent.  They’d visited before, and one of the nuns had told us that they were interested in adopting one of us – taking us home with them and being our mommy and daddy forever.  I guess they were unable to have kids of their own, and wanted some.  Us children, we’d all talk about how good, or scary, or terrible it would be to have parents, or in some cases, to have parents again… I was among those who had always wanted some, having been denied my own by a mad scientists’ accident. 

   Carol looked like an older, more “growed up” and plumper version of Gwen to me – she had the same hair and eye coloring, and the same permanent benevolent smile I liked so much… and when she made eye contact with me, I saw there someone I really could call Mommy and mean it.  Aaron was a big, muscular man – intimidating to look at, but he had a very quiet voice and calm attitude, which made me feel as if I could really trust him.  I knew right away that these were the parents I’d always wanted.

Unfortunately, Gwen was the little girl that they’d always wanted. 

When I found out about it, I was devastated.  They didn’t want me.  Everybody liked me, how could they not want me? It made no sense!  Raging to myself, I noticed the kids around me slamming things around, sulking, kicking things… I guess they felt rejected too.  I didn’t care though.  Why would they pick her?  Sure she has a pretty smile, but she has a scar!  She’s flawed.  Nobody played games by HER rules and had fun!  That was MY role here!  I began to really resent her… and after Aaron and Carol finished up in the office of the head nun (I forget her name… I forgot all of their names.  They were just floating habits to me.) they’d met up with Gwen in the common room.  I glared and glared at Gwen, wishing something bad would happen to her, or she’d somehow make the parents *I* wanted hate her… I wanted her to feel bad for taking the parents I wanted away from me, even though I’d never told her about those feelings I had for the couple.

When Carol approached Gwen, and asked Gwen, “Would you like to come home, and live with Aaron and I, and become a part of our family?” Gwen was smiling… and then she started crying.  We all assumed she was just so happy… Gwen ran up to me sobbing and gave me a big hug… and she said, “Sorry…” I was shaking and nearly crying too, watching my friend prepare to leave with MY family… it was all I could do not to push her off me.  In my head, I was SCREAMING at her to get away from me. 

With a scream, Gwen pulled away from me, ran as fast as I’ve ever seen her run towards the window facing the parking lot, jumped and smashed through it, and plummeted out of sight.  All of the children screamed in terror… the nuns of the orphanage (there weren’t many, but it was a pretty large place) came pouring in the room from all over the building trying to control the children… Carol was beside herself with grief, and Aaron had immediately sprinted out of the room and down the stairs.  I was dumbfounded; I was so scared and shocked I couldn’t move, or even cry.

I had actually thought the phrase, “Go jump out a window!” when Gwen was hugging me. 

   I finally managed to regain control of my body, and ran downstairs in time to see Aaron, in tears, cradling the body of little too-tall Gwen in his arms… she’d landed very akwardly on the pavement, and was already dead when the ambulance arrived.  I felt so bad… I’d killed my friend… and now, the parents I wanted would never want me.  All I wanted in the whole wide world was a mom to give me a great big hug and tell me everything was going to be okay, a father to tell me I’d been good…

In that moment, I turned around, and Carol was there, looking down at me with tears in her eyes… she got down on her knees, embraced me, putting her hand on the back of my head and squeezing me close, and stroking my hair… and she said “Don’t feel bad, angel; Don’t feel bad.  It’s going to be alright.”  I was doing everything I could not to think or speak.

Two weeks later, I went home with my new family.