Past
Corbin was just a few weeks old when he was adopted by Melanie and Charles McAy. He was raised in Tweedbank, Scotland as an only child. His mother Melanie stayed home and worked hard to keep the house and family maintained. She stubbornly refused to accept help from anyone else; they would only slow her down. His father Charles was rarely seen as he worked late quite often, but neither Corbin nor his mum were lacking in necessities. Anything he wanted or needed was fulfilled before he ever had to open his mouth; food, love, it didn’t matter – he had it all.
Corbin loves his parents deeply and though he knows now that they did not create him, he never sought those that did. Curiosity only took him so far before the worry that he might not like what he found lingered. He didn’t need that. What he did need though was the continued love and approval of the parents he already had.
He worked hard to achieve great heights for them; it was never really about himself. The other kids didn’t care why. All they knew was that he was one of the smart kids always being the teachers pet, always having to show them up and make them look bad, and always doing those things kids hate but clearly acting like he loved it. A child prodigy? More like different in every horrible way. There was wrong all over him and they could smell it like a vulture smells death.
It was his whole life. They were always there watching him. He knew it, they knew it, but unfortunately his parents had not. The shadows lurked, joining in the joyful hunt and torture of a growing boy. Only his parents were safe, but they could never know, not beyond the occasional bedwetting and night terrors. He was perfectly fine and healthy, just a little spooked, that’s all.
It never got better, no matter how hard he wished or hoped. It was getting worse and now he was getting bigger and had to consider his future. Why won’t they stop? Why won’t any of them ever stop? He became furious, he tried to fight them. He fought as hard as he could but the only one he ever hurt was himself. When the smoke finally cleared, he had done the one thing he hoped never to do.
He heard them talking, distant fearful whispers. The closer he crept the more words were formed until legible. “There has to be someplace that can take him?” “This isn’t something that can just be fixed.” “But he’s our son, we have to help him.” “He may not ever be coming back.” His heart sank. He was running long before his mind had the chance to catch up. He didn’t know where he was going but it sure as hell was not wherever they were planning. He refused. He wanted a future, not to be held behind glass and padding like a piece of art hanging on a wall. He wanted to find a job, to find friends, to find love, to find acceptance. He wanted more, a new start.
