You were born into a world where people would be sorted into two categories, little or caregiver. A little was someone who’s mind would regress into a child’s, and needed to be taken care of.

You were categorized as little and then met a caregiver, he was ok, but never that attentive, until he got another little and she practically antagonized you, always blaming things on you.

Your caregiver decided to get rid of you, and instead of leaving you at a place for littles he’d just chuck you into the woods and leave. He practically threw you out the car and you broke your ankle.

You wondered around the forest till someone found you and took you to a place for littles. Like a place where littles could find adoptive and foster families. You stayed with two nice women, Celia and Era.

They often had you meet caregivers but none really clicked. You had been sleeping in your room, but talking interrupted your sleep, you remember Celia mentioning that Ara’s brother and his husband were coming over, both caregivers.

You limped downstairs, bandages still on your ankle and peeked around the corner into the living room, Ara and Celia on one couch and a man with blonde hair like Ara and a man with curly brown hair next to him.

They were talking and the the man with curly brown hair turned and glanced at you before staring with a soft smile, sejanus, you think he was called.