6 Stop Binge Pretending Because Your Lack of Parents Was Bad Enough for Your Health

Saturday early afternoon was gray and icy cold. The forecast was snow; yet it was only in the middle of November. Yet my mornings are still the same, thus, I am still very pleased to devour the weather as well as this week's luck, being the most loosen week for the entire year. I am less bothered by the group of Mitchell's, who are busy portraying the 'good girl' just to be chosen by a family who will come to visit and adopt the lucky kid. Well, in my case, it didn't matter. I'd rather stay here in the orphanage and be content than to spend time and pretend the image of falsification.

After some structured and unfair and usual morning routine, I am back at my beloved bed, unfortunately, in the very far end of the room Mitchell, Nanny, Nancy and I shared. And I would rather wish they got chosen, especially Mitchell, at least my burden at this place will lessen. Right now, I got an extra time for myself as Mathilda and I finished early in the kitchen, devouring the empty, peaceful room it could offer, until…

"Who gave you the food?!"

Then there's these three senior spoiled brats barging inside the room, their ruckus woke the sleepiness in my eyes with Mitchell's voice who sounded like who swallowed a megaphone, but I remained still in my spot. Through the veil fabric of my hoodie, I looked at them approaching the side of my bed, observing them with a gaze so intense like I already knew their next move.

"Who gave you a full f*ck*ng meal?" As usual, Mitchell inquired loudly, like she had forgotten what it's like to have a normal tone. "Is it that old hag helping you?"

My grin turned bigger and bigger until it became the evil smile like the one Joker has, knowing my predictions are concise. I sat up and leaned on the headboard. "It's the perks of being in the kitchen. The scrapes you wished that I will eat turned out to be a full-blown meal."

I talked back. At this time like this, Mitchell never has time to censor her words of whatever she wants to say, and you can never have time to brace yourself but to talk back to her disreputable verbal insults and attacks. And at this moment, civilities are thrown out of the window with the feeling full of determination from the strength I gained from the past week.

"Why did you not e-"

"Just so you know, I also have the right to eat during meals, not scrapes, especially I am one of those who prepared it," I cut her off, smoothly, and smirked. "I know what you're trying to do, Mitchell. Stop binge pretending because your lack of parents was bad enough for your health."

A look of unconcealed disbelief and surprise flashed through everyone's faces inside the room and it didn't escape my sharp and intense gaze. They knew that I rarely came to a fit and exploded and as the two other girls looked at Mitchell's with eagerness, she turned subtle and tuned down.

I saw the furious boiling up in her eyes, her blood rise to her ears, ready to argue back. In one smooth motion, she closed the distance between and grabbed my collar part of the hoodie. We're now face to face, nose over an inch close. I saw a gleam that sparks in her eyes.

"At least, I know the feeling of having a family, unlike you…" she hissed, then scoffed. "They probably decided to leave you for good to fend for yourself because they could not stand anymore the evilness inside you. You're a monster! A murderer! Living with your little petty life hiding your face in a piece of fabric like a delusional thief, and pretending to forget your murderous memories. Leaving you behind, though I couldn't blame them for leaving this world. They better off without you even in their second life they don't want you to be part of their family."

I should see it coming before playing with fire. I flinched; her insults were like sharp daggers cutting through my flesh. If it is me alone, she's insulting, I would just accept it without second thought. But, by the mere mention of my family, whom I don't remember who they are, still hits a spot, it hurts. I couldn't accept it.

For a moment, my mind went blank. In just like a flash, like my hands are moving on its own accord – my left hand slapped Mitchell's hand, letting go of me, and the same time, in a real fast moment, with my right hand, I managed to picked the broken mirror on my side table that was just behind me – and in one smooth movement, I cut my wrist.

I catched Mitchell's gaze, her gleamed in victory with her infamous evil smirk. Her gaze diverted to my bleeding wrist, turning her smirk into an awkward cuff.

Without second thought, I quickly hide my wrist away from them at how it would miraculously heal on its own.

"I'm just here to remind you, when they arrive, behave like your usual self," Mitchell said with her tone that she's finished to pick on me, and they left. I sighed, deeply, in which I am more grateful at the moment.

I immediately locked the door after they left, making sure no one's going to witness the demon inside. I raised my hand to examine it. The sleeve of my hoodie was bathed in my own blood, and when I moved it up, there revealed no cut was done, no scars, not even scratch on my skin.

I have witnessed it before, many times, since I arrived in the orphanage. I felt different and strange. I would act carelessly. My mind would go blank and then the next I would move strange without me noticing that I did it. I would just wake up whenever I saw my own blood gushing out.

* * *

In an hour, I managed to change my clothes and put on my favorite bright, crimson cloak. It is the only way I could think of to calm myself faster. And not too long, the unwelcomed roommates, went back inside together with other girls that I recognize were some of Mitchell's minions. They were busy chatting with each other at how excited they were, that it was quite long since someone got interested and had decided to adopt a lucky kid at our range of age.

I just stayed in my bed, still trying to calm down, with my arms crossed around shoulders, doing the butterfly hug method self-administered bilateral simulation, and kept to breath evenly while listening to the other girls.

"Nanny, what did Macy say when she called you in her office?" Mitchell impatiently asked Nanny. "She said to gather up in one room," she said with such excitement and giggled. "I offered that we'll stay at ours."

It didn't really matter to me anymore, to be chosen or not, because even after the small percentage of being chosen, it will turn out the same as the previous family who tried to foster. They will just make me return back to this place.

While waiting, I got nervous out of the blue, I am busy gasping for air, I am panting for no apparent reason. I sat up and leaned on the headboard, but still no changes instead I felt my heartbeat keep beating fast.

I heard voices but it's not from the girls, it's Macy's and another two unfamiliar voices, and I also heard footsteps. And not too long, the door of their room opened and revealed the visitors in which the girls immediately came to line up side by side.

Still panting, I averted my gaze at the door and saw the owner, Macy and a couple at their late-twenties but stood up with such maturity. The man, probably six-foot-tall, is standing beside the woman who has the sweetest and warmest smile I've ever seen amongst all that have tried to foster.

And when the man noticed me in the

The man quickly approached my spot when he noticed me in the corner. I didn't plan to get noticed but it's the opposite. I know all eyes are on us and I could feel the intense heat the girls are throwing at.

"Charlie," he called, and I followed his order, and looked straight to his eyes. "Look up, Charlie. Are you hurt?"

I couldn't answer him. My heart keeps on pounding abnormally, racing like hell and it's like it would like to go out of my chest, as I keep on staring at his eyes, red eyes. Then automatically, my head aches so much that it would break apart. There were flashes of images I don't remember that happened once in my life. The images are unconvincing and beyond belief. I saw the heaven split open and fall down upon four angels with other familiar faces on the meadow forming a star pattern.

I gasped for air; my hand held on to my chest hoping the pain would subside. I couldn't believe what I saw. I saw myself in one of the five persons at the star-pattern. The images changed into a blur, there were a lot of voices. I heard someone calling out.

"Adena!"

"Charlie!"

"Dena!"

"Gilbert!"

"Stayre!"

"Cece!"

A long beeping sound changes back my vision back to normal. The woman approaches them also with the same worried look as the man. I see the man speak to his partner but my hearing still adjusting, still hearing a long stinging frequency.

The last thing I heard the man muttered.

"She's in deep trouble. She needs to be saved."