Orphanage - Intro

** Child abuse In this chapter **

The village in question is quite old, and over the centuries, the buildings have piled up like a stack of books. Thus, it's easy to get lost in the numerous passages. However, for orphans like us, the alleyways are playgrounds.

Amelia - "Come on, hurry up! We're almost there," she shouted.

Our arrival was rough, but we managed to avoid the worst. Our panting could be heard throughout the orphanage. Amelia was now relieved just in time for a shadow to appear in front of the door.

My heart suddenly leaped. The door opened abruptly. It was Madame Lynda, she was angry, veins bulging on her forehead, she was furious.

Lynda - "Where were you?" she demanded in a loud voice.

She pushed me violently to the ground and started hitting me mercilessly. I positioned myself to avoid the blows. Taken by surprise, Amelia leaped on me to shield me from Lynda's strikes.

Lynda, shocked - "What are you doing? Get off right now! The next one punished will be you! You're not supposed to leave the orphanage without my permission!"

Amelia exclaimed - "It's my fault, ma'am! I just wanted to see the market, and I forced Mao to come with me."

I was surprised and about to speak before being interrupted by Amelia, who elbowed me.

Lynda - "Hm... is that true...?"

Amelia stood up, saying - "Yes, it's true, I should be the one punished."

The entrance hall was silent for a few seconds. Lynda looked at us suspiciously. She then took Amelia's hand and led her into the room nobody wants to enter. Lynda's high heels echoed in all the corridors.

--

In the orphanage, there's a unique hierarchy that starts with the director, Lynda. This woman is cruel and heartless towards children like me. Lynda, a woman in her forties, usually wears luxurious dresses that cost a fortune. She has pink hair with some white streaks. She comes from a noble family and never misses an opportunity to boast about the importance of her Chamboulet family in the city of Florence.

This orphanage belongs to her family, and since my arrival, I've been tortured and poorly fed. The other kids don't want to associate with me for fear of suffering the same fate, and they fear receiving my curse.

Despite the lack of affection, the only person who reached out to me was Amelia. We started hanging out together from a young age, even though the director tried to stop us.

Madame Lynda doesn't like things she can't control. She surely fears we might reveal her misdeeds. However, she presents a false image in the village, making it impossible to ask for help. We'd be considered crazy.

Some have already tried their luck and ended up in the dungeon. Its dark cell is hidden from view, and anything that goes in comes out weeks later in a broken state.

The slightest mistake can land us in the dungeon. Right now, Amelia is locked up in there. Her piercing screams can be heard from my room. Terror drives me to curl up on the floor.

The room that was illuminated a few hours ago is now dark and icy. Every whip crack makes me jump. The noise repeats in intervals that gnaw at my guilt.

Tears stream down my cheeks, followed by sobs that testify to my human inadequacy. The pearl illuminating the sky shines on my skeletal body to expose my miserable life to the world.

God has forgotten me and let me suffer for my actions, so I am unconscious. My only way to forget the pain is to create my own pain. I haven't told Amelia because I don't want to hurt her.

Humans become weak when they show their weakness to others. It often happens that the person we trust the most will turn their back on us when we need them the most. Thus, I cannot lose Amelia under any circumstances, otherwise my life will have no meaning.

A few hours later...

The door to the room opens slowly, and Amelia appears, all beaten up, with cuts and bruises all over her body. I weakly cry her name and rush to help her stand. She struggles to walk, so I guide her to her wooden bed.

Our room is filled with dilapidated furniture barely standing. The director has no interest in our well-being, just like our tattered clothes. Most of the donation money goes into Lynda's pockets anyway.

The orphanage has no medical equipment, and Amelia's condition will leave scars. Amelia groans in her bed, visibly upset by the emotional pain. To comfort her, I slip into the bed and hold her in my arms.

Tomorrow is another day.