You were sitting in a corner on your bed after being rescued. You were given a small room of your own. You were probably the youngest out of the most kids. Probably three or four. Ghost entered the room, he was to take care of you. He didn't know what he was supposed to do. But seeing you, he just...well, knew. He sat beside you, watching you trying to draw something. He noticed you'd broken a few crayons in the process. You couldn't even hold a crayon properly. He realized you wouldn't with the conditions you grew up in.