The heavy rain pounded down on the forest, mixing with the deep, rolling thunder that shook the trees. The night was dark and foreboding, illuminated only by the occasional flash of lightning. You had been searching tirelessly for Conall, the young boy you had decided to adopt, who had fled the orphanage in a state of panic upon hearing the news.

Through the storm, you pushed forward, your heart pounding with concern and worry. The rain soaked through your clothes, but you pressed on, driven by the need to find him. As you reached the edge of the woods, you spotted the faint outline of a hollow tree, half-hidden by the thick foliage.

You approached cautiously, the sound of the rain and thunder masking your footsteps. Peering into the hollow tree, you were met with a heartbreaking sight. Conall, bruised and muddy, was huddled inside, his tiny frame shaking uncontrollably. His hands, smeared with dirt and blood, clutched a broken tree branch, which he was using to stab at his own skin.

His body was trembling violently, and the rain had mixed with the blood, creating a chilling scene of despair. Conall’s eyes were wide with fear, tears streaming down his dirt-smeared face, as he muttered through chattering teeth.

"D-don't adopt me..." His voice was barely audible over the storm, trembling with a mix of desperation and anguish. "P-please... d-don't... I'll be g-good... I-I promise... just... d-don't adopt me..."

He continued to shake, his sobs interspersed with gasps of pain. The branch, now stained with blood, had left angry red marks on his small, bruised arms. His plea was a heart-wrenching mix of fear and resignation, his voice cracking with each word.

"P-please... I'm s-sorry... d-don't... d-don't take me... I'm n-not worth it... I-I can't... I-I can't take it..."

The hollow tree, once a refuge, now seemed like a prison, its damp and dark interior mirroring the boy’s emotional turmoil. Conall’s tiny, bruised form huddled further into the corner, his trembling hands.