Work Text:
Armless
A runt, was the first thing the woman thought as she looked at it. The baby itself was quite charming, black coal eyes with hair that seemed like ink as it fell on the baby’s chubby face. Its body was too small for a normal baby, but it would sadly survive.The runt stared at her with eyes that seemed cold and dull.
The baby’s important functions were healthy, the legs, brain, eyes, legs, and torso were all perfectly fine and working. All except for its arms. The runt’s arms were disappointing, dysfunctional; they were wrong.
The doctors had said that the runt’s hand to eye coordination may be poor for the rest of the runts pathetic life. A child without good hand to eye coordination will never be able to inherit her artistic nature. She is a artist and a proud one, one with hands that are sharp and careful, that make precise soft strokes with ink and is sold for millions. She could not have a child this pathetic.
The doctor suggests that a early surgery may be able to fix the child’s arms. But spending money on something that simple? Why couldn’t it have been born with normal hand to eye coordination without her having to spend millions of dollars on such a feeble thing this early on?
She decides that she has a much more... better solution.
___________________________________
His life was dull. It was boring, horrible even. His arms were horrible as well. They just didn’t work the way he wanted. They wobbled whenever he tried to grasp something, he had to repeatedly make attempts to grab an object because his hand just couldn’t hold it or kept missing the stupid thing.
He wanted to cry, scream and yell at his stupid arms for not being able to lift a single cup without shaking, without having the lingering fear of shattering it and the screaming that follows after the cup is on the floor and beyond repair.
His body is perfectly healthy, except for being on the thin side, he supposes everyone is a bit on the thin side as food is scarce, only filling barely half the plate.
His arms, he hates his arms, is it the same as hating yourself? Hating a part of your body may as well be hating the whole body and person.
Oki‘s train of thought were interrupted as a spoon entered his field of vision and scooped a spoonful of his rice. He turned his head to look at the scowling girl next to him. The girl sneered and shoved the spoonful of rice in her mouth, right in front of him. Her soft, chubby cheeks puffing up as her mouth fills up with rice. She chews slowly, making sure he sees her enjoy the rice. Oki frowns and turns back to his plate. Rice with a few steamed veggies, and one slice of ham that was no larger than a nickel.
His hands shook as he tries to keep his hold on the fork, he grips the fork harder, he fails, making the fork only shake even more fast. His hand falls limp and the fork clatters against the table. Oki wanted to screech.
Why won’t his hands just work?!
The girl next to him snickers, Oki turns at her, face contorted in pure rage, hands clenched into fists, shaking uncomfortably and ready to punch the living daylights out of her. The girl giggles, “Can’t you hold a fork correctly? Why, want me to spoon feed you like the mother you never had?” She teases as she dangles a spoonful of rice and veggies in front of his face, it was from his plate.
Oki pauses, and decided to think about how to punch the living daylights out of her.
The girls grin just widens, making her soft delicate face turn into something that seems abnormal. She pushed the spoon more into his personal space. Oki decides against punching the other child and instead chomps on the spoon, eating the food as well. The girls grin falters, but she scoops another spoonful of food, and pushes it at Oki.
The rest of dinner was filling ( not really, never is ) . No grain of rice or cube of veggies were left on Oki’s plate. (She had taken the slice of ham for herself while he was busy chewing at some point)
The girl grinned, it seemed to bring a warmth in the cold orphanage, Oki allowed a small smile on his lips. This was a nice dinner. And the last one he’ll ever have.
(...)
The girl ignored Oki the next dinner, only making eye contact when she scooped a spoonful of rice, she eats it while looking away from Oki this time. Oki hopes that she will help him with dinner next time. ( There will be no next time and there isn’t )
His small heart cracks, of course there was no chance he would ever be able to gain a friend. This is a orphanage after all.
He was pathetic.
He was armless .
