Saint Augustine’s Orphanage for Young Boys:
1.
I had just walked in on Pepper cutting himself.
I suppose it was natural for him to feel that way. I think we all do. Though, he really should have locked the door. He didn’t move a muscle when I entered. He just sat there--in his black plaid boxers--staring at the opposite wall, a razor between in his left hand. He was shaking with soft tears.
“Go.” He said. His atribulous figure still trembling slightly.
I went. But I never forgot about it. Pepper was tall, lanky and ruggedly handsome. His shoulder length, naturally dull gray hair shrouded his rounded face. Pepper was fourteen. He had been in the orphanage for just three weeks. From what I could gather, both of