crippling diagnosed aspergers
my mother was a primary school teacher. she taught in a pretty deprived part of manchester, and although the kids were lovely, some of them did have very sad home lives. one year she had a child called michael o'boyle, who wasn't quite right. not only was he fluorescently, offensively ginger, but he frightened the other children and was generally pretty creepy. michael had been fostered from being a toddler, and his adoptive mother adored him. at first, anyway.

one break time he smashed his milk bottle by dropping it. when the dinner lady scolded him, he threatened her with one of the pieces of glass. then proceeded to cut his own hand open with it. he was 6.

a week later, mother found him sitting in the library corner. not reading his book, but pulling out the stitches so that his hand bled profusely and crooning to himself.

a couple of weeks after that, he asked to go to the toilet. the boys' toilet was across the hall. after he had gone, mum thought she had better check on him. michael had dragged a chair in there, and was squatting over the sink, curling one out. he said that he thought the toilets were "too dirty". (actually, he probably had a point. this was the late 80's and my mother's class alone had 35 children in it. feck knows how she coped!)

after christmas, michael didn't come back. his mother told my mother that they had all been enjoying christmas day, including her own grown up children, when all the electrics had gone out. no lights, no oven, no turkey. eventually they found an electrician who could fix it on christmas day. after a couple of hours, he found the place in the loft where michael had pulled the wires out. on purpose. the electrician said it was a miracle he hadn't killed himself. michael said he hadn't wanted anyone else there, just him and his mother. again, he was 6 .

after that, his adoptive mother had sent him back to care. from time to time, michael would call her from the home, and would start off quite normal, but end up sounding really quite chilling. he'd say things like "do you still love me, mummy? i still love you, mummy. and i'm coming to see you soon." but by now, he was 16.

this story of michael o'boyle used to creep the hell out of me when i was little! although i never heard of a manchester family being burned in their beds by an adopted child, so i can only assume he grew out of it.
( rachelswipe with a fork, Sun 1 Feb 2009, 10:51, Reply)