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"Mom will come for you soon, Albert."
He'd been told this two weeks ago. But they never came for him, nor for the other children, though he waited patiently.
It wasn't that he was afraid. These people told him he had a bright future and that they were proud of him. That was good, right? True, the boy didn't quite understand why they were praising him. But perhaps the adults finally saw how smart he was and how smoothly he could color in his animal coloring books.
And yet, he wanted to go home. Christmas was coming soon, which meant mom would probably have roasted a duck. She rarely cooked herself, but duck was a tradition at Christmas. "The whole family gets together," she'd say, gently stroking Albert's light, almost white hair while he secretly fed a wing to the impudent Rex, who nuzzled his wet nose into h is tiny hand, begging for a treat from the table.
But no one came for him yet. The other children often cried and begged to go home. Sometimes Albert wanted to too (which he didn't want to admit). But he don't. People here didn't like it when someone started "whining," and the boy hoped that if he showed how brave he was, he'd be the first one to go home.
But they didn't let him go.
And after three weeks, the number of children decreased.
It was probably because of the strange experiments adults recently started conducting on them. Albert didn't understand why, and frankly, he didn't like it. After each test, his eyes hurt, and there was a strange itching sensation under his skin. And there was often screams in the neighboring rooms.
But he didn't want to show weakness. Then his mom definitely wouldn't come, right? His father often said that the weak don't survive in this world. Albert remembered that.
He was good at remembering what he was told. In kindergarten, he was the best at memorizing pictures and stories. His mother always praised him and said he was the best son.
It was the first time Albert cried quietly, late at night, when everyone was long asleep, even the strange men in white coats.
Perhaps he wasn't brave enough.
Not strong enough.
And neither mom nor dad needed him anymore. Even Rex probably forgot all about him and went off to play with the other children.
In the silence of the cold, child bedroom with its pile of beds and, for some reason, bars on the windows, a final, barely audible sob was heard.