Neophobia (Harsh Themes and Humanized Warning)(Short story series "The Fear of ")

Admittedly, I wasn't smart by the end of it all. It was all my fault. I was too involved with those children. I wish I were heartless... I hope they didn't have to see me suffer anymore, for it makes them weep. I was hardened by each loss, but what progress have I made to have it squashed into the floor? No more, I swore. I will take on this burden, no matter the cost to myself. What is a cut on a wrist or botched subject if it means another life is preserved even for longer? The answer: It is the world.What beautiful children. Unwanted people are raised by unwanted villains. They are not tainted, as some say. They have something that no other has had: Hope. A place of hope means the world. They have talent and are good kids. No matter how much sass they give me in the morning. I was always annoyed by that, but now I miss our time. I will fix this... Please allow me to fix all of it. Thomas Reid would have put on his coat and brushed his teeth. He accidentally got some toothpaste on his white coat and shrugged it off with a laugh. Thomas would put on his badge and clear his throat. He would put some funny-looking stickers of a funny pony and happy sun. His name tag said: Thomas Reid. Head of Child Supervision and Harbinger. Harbinger was a unique name for those hired as agents to dispatch the criminally disturbed. Hitmen... Designed to destroy human traffickers, but I had another job. To be almost as an overseer of these poor children. Our job was not pretty to any extent. We created fear everywhere we went, and we were godless people. Even the children weren't safe. The government was using secret bases to cloak itself from the public by claiming we were a "children's hospital." Sunnyside Children Clinic. Not only was this a trap, but only for those who have been saved from child trafficking. Those they deemed "unloveable." Oh, how much I have seen. Such horrors they have had to endure were sometimes too much for their little bodies. I've held their hopeless bodies in my hands. Cried on them, and I do every time it happens. Then they blame me... As if I didn't ready them for suffering...Reid would have cleared his throat as he looked at a new list of children. He would huff and shake his head. Some were scared. Some would shield others. Some older... Some younger. His frown would turn into a smile. Thomas kneeled and said with a charismatic grin. "Look at this group! Don't worry. I will be a light in all your darkness. A shield against those to hurt you." None of them were buying it, but one girl would come out. She was in ragged clothing; she would simply hug his head. She saw right through him, and he knew it. He would bring her close. One hand on the back of her head and her back. He couldn't help but tear up at the heart of gold. What a poor child. Her name was Enid. It was so sweet that the other children would have teared up at her selflessness. Thomas extends his arms as they all join in on the hug. They were but children starved for love, and I would give it to them by god. Even if it killed me in the end. I gave them nicknames, and we would slowly become... A family. A dysfunctional one that is but a family nonetheless. I would sing them songs. About happiness. About the warmth of the sun. About hope. I played with them often, and they even called me Father Thomas. Dad and so on. Those nicknames became their names. Profit. Manny. Strong. Amy. Enid. Shock. Butchie. Sandy. We were a unit. We were the hope we sought for.