Chapter One: Control

Raised in a children’s shelter as a young child, Cano was an outcast among his peers. Often mistaken for a girl, Cano was ostracized and abused for his perceived feminine facial features as a young child. In response he cut his hair and violently lashed out to the point in which he was isolated from the other children, mistakenly diagnosed with ADHD and bipolar manic depression by the state. The medications sent him on a rollercoaster of chemically induced feelings and altered mind states. Most wouldn’t take him in due to his record of violence, and his expensive medical bill. In response, his caretakers begged the city clinic for re-evaluation; claiming that he could no longer afford the expense of his prescriptions. The trio even went as far as to make it seem as if he didn’t need it, claiming he was faking for attention, shamelessly bullying him into submission.

Cano became quiet, unresponsive, and reclusive. His weekly required therapy consisted of his therapist’s bland binary questions once met with obscenities and verbal assault now binary apathetic responses; followed by an hour of storytime featuring Children's book authors who wrote of eager dogs, and warm parents, and silver spoons, he could not relate to, and never dared to dream. Cano sat in silence, unbothered by the melodrama bouncing off of his young dismissive mind, unbothered by the chatter in the halls, untouched by the buzz of the therapist’s desk light. Week after week Cano began to find a silence that no man, no bus, no opposition could penetrate. Cano valued the quiet. like a padded room, once the office door closed, the room was his.

Of course, his stewards were chary about Cano potentially revealing too much during his sessions, consistently berating him. Panic-stricken, the three would attempt to intimidate young Cano while inadvertently divulging information Cano couldn't correlate, yet understood to be sensitive.

Cano was well aware of his assured “quiet” being untouchable; but one day, outside of a gas station, on the way to the city’s child services office, the larger and wilieyest of the the three, Mark , had a point to make. Mark pulled Cano up to eye level. His arm, gripped so tight it left blue marks against Cano’s tawny-bronze skin, shaped like the inside of his fist. “You think you grown huh? Mark whispered. Cano glanced around hoping someone would intervene, ending his embarrassment, but to no avail. Passerby’s ignored the confusion, some even encouraged Mark, assuming Cano had it coming, assuming Mark was his father. “Tell you what.” Mark growls. “Let me even catch wind of that pencil neck motherfucker knowing shit about us!” Mark crechendo’s “Let me find the fuck out that- shit let me even think that he know shit about me and your ass is mine!” Mark howls. “You made two mistakes so far boy. One, you thought you could do better than this. Two, you thought you was safe. I’ll have your ass in a straight jacket, doped up in a heartbeat. let me tell you now; You better watch yourself.” Cano blank, staring at the sky, tears welling, nodds as Mark stares intensely inches away from Cano's face before dropping him.

Cano’s therapist is under the impression that Cano enjoys the storytelling. However, as earnest as his efforts may be, the old man may be handycaped, due to an age gap and the alien nature between Cano’s demographic and his own. Cano needed someone to confide in however he understood that his tone-deaf therapist may not understand nor have the capacity to manage such a delicate situation in an effective manner.

Cano found himself trapped between his emotions on the way to the clinic. Briefly floundering then still; Cano gently placed his hands over his heartstrings, choking the explosive vibrations between his lungs. The silence that followed fortified an oasis that gave his mind the footing for a fighting chance. Becoming mindful of the clarity “the-quiet ” had to offer pushed Cano towards honing his new discipline. His suffocating environment inspired him to bring purpose to his power. something was growing from the dark places between the cracks of his broken soul.