[Gotham] Jerome's Little Bad

I didn't understand why I was an "outcast" until I was three, a term I first heard at an even younger age, from George the Asylum bully.

He scolded me, an outcast who was worthless except for being good-looking, an outcast that even my parents didn't want.

Beauty is the original sin, but also a weapon.

This was my first life lesson, and while looks got me in a lot of trouble, it also served me many goals and destroyed what I held dear throughout my wandering life.

For almost the first third of my life, if I had to say who I loved.

Then this person is Sister Maria.

She is just like her name, the Virgin Mary.If it is said that the greatest thing the Virgin Mary did was to give birth to Jesus, then Sister Mary is the Jesus in my heart.

Gotham was a dark and chaotic city, and she was the only one who, without funding, joined several other nuns to run an asylum.

Although life is very difficult, and sometimes they have to face the threat of some gangsters, but they never give up.

Sister Maria, the dean of the asylum, is the kindest and most beautiful person I have ever met in my life. She dedicated her life to this city and to the seedlings in this city.Although she has gray hair and is as old as a rotten orange.

Some families around could not take care of their children, so they took some money and handed it over to Dean Maria.There are also some children whose parents have died and no one cares about them, and Dean Maria also picked them up to raise them.And then there's the part that parents like me can't afford to throw away, and Suzanne's flawed burden.

Abandoned children are the low-end existence of the discrimination chain of asylums.

Almost the entire asylum looked down on outcasts like us, including ourselves.

Other orphans can still comfort themselves, not because my parents don't want me anymore, but because they are gone, and I am not unwanted by others.

And we can't, we are just abandoned, like the garbage on the side of the road, we don't even bother to look for the trash can, it's just garbage anyway.

And I can't fit into the so-called "outcast groups" because I have no flaws and I still look so good-looking.

But I can't blend in with other people, because I am more beautiful and polite than others, and I am quite popular with all the nuns in the asylum.

If there is something delicious, they will keep a portion for me, although some will be taken away, because the older children dare not go too far.

If there is a conflict, they will favor me because I seem so weak and obedient.

If there are beautiful clothes, I will be the first to put them on.This is what made them angry and jealous the most, because I was already good-looking and dressed so decently, and if anyone was willing to adopt me, they would definitely choose me first.

Sister Maria is different. Although she loves me very much, she never looks at us with colored glasses. She treats everyone equally.

I don't need preference, I just need equality, and Sister Mary gave it to me.

She would teach us how to read and read, and tell us stories from the Bible before going to bed. She told us that we are not without parents, but that God is our parents, and He loves everyone.

If I could see her now, I would tell her that there is no God in this world.

During my five years in the asylum, I was often bullied by others.Whether boys or girls, it is because of jealousy.

Jealousy, jealousy, jealousy is poison and human nature.

Because they don't envy people who are higher than themselves, just like they don't envy nuns, they don't envy ladies who try on clothes in fancy dress shops, they don't envy gentlemen in cars, but they envy I.

It's like, obviously we all come from the same background, why do you have a better life than me.

They would pour water on my quilt in the middle of winter, they would take my food, they would beat me, lock me in a small dark room in the asylum, and pull out my shiny golden hair.

Even Sister Maria took me out of the asylum on the day of her almsgiving in an attempt to sell me.

Because I seem to be on the opposite side of everyone, because I can't fit into any of their groups, but can be a catalyst for their unity.

And I’m not a vegetarian. When my quilt got wet, I went to find Sister Gina, who loves me the most and is also the strictest. She would hug me in her warm quilt and punish everyone without food the next day.

If I was beaten up or robbed of something, I wouldn't just file a complaint because that would be unflattering.

I would just sit silently and cry on the path that the nuns must pass, and then they would find the scars on my body, or the corner of something that was stolen.

After a long time, they will not openly deal with me.It's nothing more than stepping on me hard when passing by me.Or when there are many people, pinch my flesh and twist it hard.

It doesn't matter, if you cry, it's like making a fuss over a molehill.

On the day when I was almost sold, several nuns in the asylum were very anxious when they found out, until I ran back by myself.

I didn't expose them because this thing was a ticking time bomb if I wanted to.

Since then, they have restrained a lot.

Until one day when I was six years old, Sister Maria told us that the Hollands would come to our asylum to pick a child to raise.

In Gotham, few people are willing to adopt other people's children, except for the upper class who adopt children on World Children's Day as a way of showing their kindness.

Everyone wanted to take advantage of this opportunity, so I, who seemed the most likely to be adopted, became the target of criticism again.

Before Mr. and Mrs. Holland came, they secretly tore and soiled the beautiful dress that Sister Gina gave me.

They pulled my hair and covered my face with dirty hands.

So I appeared in such a mess, with dirty and torn clothes, messy hair, and the only beautiful face was still dirty.

But this accident made Mrs. Holland feel pity for me, because I was the only one who was so embarrassed and looked so thin and strong, so she thought that I might be the one who had the worst life here.

I will never forget that scene. The beautiful and dignified Mrs. Holland hugged me and said to Mr. Holland in a suit and leather shoes, "Let's take this poor boy home."

In the end, I was adopted by the Hollands.

Because of various procedures, not sure whether to raise a boy or a girl and the house is not ready, and some other reasons, Mr. Holland will come to pick me up next Saturday.

That night, at the beck and call of her cousin Suzanne, George cornered me, snatched the handkerchief Mrs. Holland gave me with his dirty hands, and said to me viciously, "Little monster, you'd better talk to Mary." Sister Asia said you should not go to Mr. Holland's house. Otherwise, the next time he comes, we will tell him that you are not a well-behaved and cute child at all, but a freak, a freak that no one wants!"

George, I miss him so much, and Suzanne.

The child whose parents died under the wheels of a rich family, and whose relatives did not want him, and his cousin Suzanne, who was born disabled and was abandoned.

They are the people who hate me the most in the entire asylum, and the ones who bully me the most.

I asked them to meet the next day in the woods near the square where the sports games were held in previous years. I wrote on the letter paper:

I beg you don't tell Mr. Holland, I would give anything for this.

The silly siblings felt that a six-year-old child could not threaten them at all, so they went to the appointment with joy, and even couldn't wait to see my desperate face.

But they didn't know that the forest that Sister Maria never let go was the place where hunters hunted in the past, but it was abandoned because there was no prey. The most in that place were traps and traps.

Someone noticed that George and Suzanne were missing, but no one cared.

Because there have been many such situations, children who were in their teens in the shelter before leaving without saying hello, wandering around Gotham by themselves.

Two days later, I went to the woods by myself, and found the Georges sister and brother by looking for the faint voice.They were lucky not to fall into a trap filled with spikes.

Maybe they heard footsteps and thought it was a cry for help, because I heard it louder.

But after seeing me, both of them looked angry and sad.

I crouched on the edge of the deep trap and looked at them, "You know, I don't care if you guys always bully me, and I don't care if I'm the favored one. But, you shouldn't threaten me. I like Huo very much." Mr. and Mrs. Holland."

I threw a pebble down, "You've also found out, no one came here at all, and no one can hear your cries for help. I was thinking about how to deal with you if you escaped from this forest. Now, though, it's time to say goodbye."

No matter how much they hate me, they still have to beg me, apologize to me, and hope I can save them.

I just remember that at that time, I looked at them indifferently and asked, "Aren't you usually like this? Isn't it like this expression?"

I turned and left, and the pleading behind me gradually turned into cursing, and then gradually weakened to calm.

Destroyed the brief letter, got back my handkerchief, and I waited, even with my heart burning.

Finally, on that Saturday, I put on my most beautiful clothes, got into Mr. Holland's car, and went to my new home under the envious eyes of everyone.

I also had a formal name, not just "sonny" (little guy) "sonny" at the asylum.

My name is Fritz Holland, and I am no longer an outcast. I have a home of my own.