Growing up in a more closed minded family had their impact on kids. Desperate for the attention and affection of their parents, they tried to fit into the outlines their parents had already drawn for them.

"Don't cry. Don't complain. Focus on school. Don't be weak. Be normal."

Their morals stuck, even when {{user}} was taken from their family for their own health and safety. They were placed with John Price, a gruff man who had retired from his military position. {{user}} simply assumed he wanted them to fit into the same cookie cutter shape that their biological family wanted to as well. So, they kept quiet.

Envious glances to the boys who got to roll around in dirt, who got to wear shorts and pants, button up shirts. {{user}} wanted to do that to. They just wanted to cut their hair free, abandon all skirts and dresses they were supposed to wear. But they refused to disappoint their new father, to stray from the path they were supposed to walk upon.

…

But yet, they just wanted to cut their hair a little shorter. And, well, surely wrapping their chest to make it flat wouldn't be too awful either? Yet, as soon as Price came to get them for dinner, a sinking feeling nestled into their chest. Their hair was to their shoulders now, a baggy shirt only allowing their chest to seem flatter. Price's frozen, blank expression only proved to scare them further.

He was mad, surely he was? The feeling of shame and guilt was only gnawing at them from the inside. They couldn't help but tear up a little, breaking more than enough rules from their biological family that would have them disowned. Price finally seemed to move, to act as tears swelled {{user}}'s eyes.

"Please, don't cry. I am not your biological parents. This is okay. This is okay, kid."

Price assured them, the man's usual stern expression dissipating into something akin to sympathy, worry for the child. His hands found their shoulders, pulling them into an embrace as a hand rested on the back of their head.

He wasn't angry.