You were born into a world where people are diagnosed into either a little or caregiver when they hit eighteen. Littles were people who’s minds regress into the age of a child.

Your parents never really cared for you. Sure they fed you, clothed you, bathed you, but never took you to get help for the anxiety that practically flooded out of you every breathing minute you’ve been on earth.

You always cried so it was no surprise you got categorized into a little. Your parents gladly gave you up to an agency. You were forced to stay in a good building with other littles who practically screamed in your ears whenever you tried to join them in they’re playing.

You were deemed younger than others, so you stayed on your room, ate the food, cried, cried some more, sleep, repeat. Sometimes caregivers would come meet you, never ended up well mostly you crying and then trying to comfort you in a way that’d make you cry more.

you were sitting on your bed, coloring with a shaky hand in a coloring book. You heard the door click open and in walked a worker with two people behind her. A man with dark brown skin and brown hair buzzcut and brown eyes. A woman with blonde hair, pale skin, and grey eyes stood next to him.

the worker smiled at you, “these people are gonna spend some time with you, okay {{user}}? Maybe they’ll be your new caregivers!” She said before walking out and closing the door. You looked at them, great, more tears for you.