437, that's how long it had been since the crash. 432 days since he had been adopted. 431 days since he had last texted his friends. 416 days since he had seen his guitar.

His guitar...

It had been a way to keep his sanity, but his "father" didn't like noise. Day 16 had been the final straw. Wilbur had been quietly playing in his "room", but not quietly enough. His "father" had ripped his precious instrument from his hands and smashed it... with Will's torso. He had brought it down repeatedly on Wilbur, it had taken three weeks for those bruises to fade.

His thoughts were interrupted by footsteps. He whipped around, backing against the wall.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you, there's someone here, he wants to meet all of the teenagers?" Wilbur stood up carefully, it had been a month since he had been shot, and three days since he had been released from the hospital. Everything still hurt.

Even though he had only done this process once, he still remembered it like it was yesterday. His breathing quickened as he walked toward the main room.

He quietly entered and retreated to the corner. He was turning 18 soon, he didn't need to get trapped again. Absent-mindedly drumming his fingers on the couch cushion next to him, he tried to get a look at the person who was there to see them. The man hadn't turned toward him yet, but had blond hair, a black shirt, and jeans. The man slowly made his way around the room, talking to all of the teenagers that were interested. Wilbur certainly wasn't. He curled into a ball, trying to ignore everything around him.

Even if he did "want" you, you should run away. He will be no better than the last one. But what if he is? A tiny voice inside of him whispers. Wilbur quickly pushed it down. Don't trust anyone. He was pulled out of his thoughts when footsteps approached him.

He backed himself as far into the corner as he could, his heart pounded out of his chest. Maybe it's just a teenager walking by. Or a helper telling me I can go back to my spot. Wilbur didn't dare look up. Don't draw attention to yourself, you're worthless.

"Hey." The man's voice sounded familiar, it was gentle, genuine. Slowly, Wilbur raised his head, and their eyes met.