Life at an orphanage usually starts like a fairly structured life routine, a scheduled life of an uncertainty tomorrow, where you'll wake up by the bright streaks of sunlight from the window, get cleaned, eat, learn and play. The deceiving mornings that secured an endless hope for a brand-new day, a hope for a family that will accept whole-heartedly.
But this isn't the cup of tea for Dena. What she likes are cold, snowy winter mornings that would come to celebrate in her endless drowning state, and for the three weeks that had passed when winter started to share its flowy cold mornings, she couldn't never be happy for the entire year.
These cold mornings would sneak in the house and onto the clustered rooms in the orphanage and would wake Dena willingly early in the morning, instead of irritatingly waking her up to those distracting bright streaks of light. She preferred those grounds looking like a frosting in a cake, like the winter season had given her a gift, and preferred the comforting company winter would offer her. She loves how her feet would stomp down the snow like a compressed cotton candy, marking her footsteps. She loves the chills that brushes her skin and how her breath turns into fog. She loves the winter daylight fading as she strode at the grounds of the orphanage.
Everyone was still fast asleep while she snuck out, devouring the haven before her. She didn't do much outside, she just strode and roamed around the grounds, her mind occupied. She didn't mind the coldness, with her only not-so-winter outfit – in her thin, worn-out jeans, a faded cream-colored sweatshirt and decent winter boots, and topped up with a floor-length, crimson red cloak, the only belonging she had when she entered the orphanage.
In the grounds, she looked like a single splatter of fresh blood in the white walls of a hospital, standing out among others. She is the loneliest orphan in the place; as what the authorities had told, her whole family died in a fire the day she got into an accident near the neighboring mall, got in too much trauma to deal with and a frustrating reality she doesn't remember a single thing that happened back then. She was hopeless; she was the longest to stay in the orphanage and thus, still no family would want to adopt her. They were all scared of her past. They were scared that what happened to her birth family will also happen to her adopting family.
I was rejected, many times. I am hurt and too broken to pick up the pieces of my true self who was left behind. I was too vulnerable for the pain that keeps on firing and the feeling of pain turned my body to be numb.
But that's okay, I'll make this through… someday.
I heard stomps on the bed of snow and I could predict that it is not going to be light and admirable. There's only one person who would dare to do such provocation. It was the same instinctive thought that would raid and ruin my peaceful quality time. And through practice, I opened my eyes right through the fabric of my hood that still covers my face.
"Is she still alive?" Mitchell inquired loudly to her bunch of minions, acting up as the superior, and kicked me hard on the side, knocking me out of breath for a second. It hurts but I managed to keep still. "How could someone lay down in that cold?"
"Na-ah," her friend Nanny's responded, averting her gaze down at me, without having a single care looted in, and got back to fixing her nails.
I just rolled my eyes and nearly scoffed at Nanny's response to Mitchell's questions. She was the most loyal of all Mitchell's minions, thus, Mitchell didn't know she got stabbed on small things she didn't pay attention to. It was never fun to deal with her. She was fed up from the admiration that she got from others and it's what keeps her standing together with her sharp words. She didn't care what her words could bring to others, what matters to her is to make sure her opinion got heard.
"Is she human? How could she last in that cold?" Mitchell asked, making sure to emphasize her first question.
Nanny scoffed, diverting her attention at my figure. "Do you still consider her human? Did you forget that she's a monster… a killer."
"Oops, my bad," Mitchell pretended and laughed hard, as well as her other minions.
"And besides," Nanny continued and scrutinized her gaze. "She's breathing way too fast for someone who's sleeping."
I rolled my eyes, knowing I got caught and my day just started.
"You know what, Dena," Mitchell smirked into a mischievous grin. "You could stop now. You've been caught…" and kicked me hard again on the sides, "Red-handed."
This time, I couldn't hold up the pain anymore and groaned in agony, wrapping arms on my side as if suppressing the pain to go away. "What do you want this time?" I managed to ask, feeling defeated.
"It's your turn to help the old hag and make breakfast," Mitchell replied. Her gaze was firm and compressed that she knew what I was going to reply.
"When it was not my turn to make breakfast?" I bravely asked back.
"That's the point," she retorted. She grabbed my arm, the one that was wrapping on my side and dragged me to stand. "Now, go! That's the beauty of being an outcast," and she laughed loudly again. "But before that, why don't you remove your filthy cl-"
I slapped her hand immediately before she could do so, cutting her off mid-sentence. I stood up straight, head held high, with such determination. "You can hurt me, disrespect, bother and toy my things, but one thing is for sure. I will not let you do such a thing on this cloak, not once, not a single touch," and left them dumbfounded.
My day has just begun.
Mornings at the orphanage have always been a routine of nightmares that would come and go, but would always leave a mark on my identity. After all, having to acquire the chores of the place for some time, I managed to see life in a positive way, to see the positivity in the nightmares that have been haunting, to be taught of the lesson it brings.
I get to know the people around here – the owner, Macy, had nothing to do with the other girls picking on me as long as the orphanage is doing fine and is receiving more money from the sponsors, she doesn't care; the nurses and staffs, they didn't know such things happening in the orphanage as the kids are good at hiding their hideous smell; and the cook, Mathilda, the only person who looked up to me, who cared and the one who's been the mother-figure I could have in the place and I could never been more grateful to have her on my side.
* * *
Just as I place the last remaining plate to be prepared, the morning bell rummaged through the entire orphanage, indicating that breakfast is ready to serve. The younger kids started to pack up the dining hall, came to line-up patiently, waiting for their turn and went to their designated seats.
Once everyone settled down, I resumed my routine. I fetched the plate I set aside for myself and came in line to get my part of the food.
"Dena!" I stopped in my trace, and looked around who called out. "You monster! Give us our plates."
Mitchell and the rest of the six girls barged into the dining hall, their ruckus made me let go a deep sigh. They came in all sweats and equally exhausted. Slowly, the rest of the rest of the girls went towards their designated seats, slumped down, while Mitchell approached me with heavy steps, the only sound that can be heard in the entire hall. Everyone is watching her every move, and she's loving it, feeding her ego.
She snatched my plate. "Guess you will be eating scraps today," Mitchell said and smirked.
"What if I don't want to?" I replied back, gathering all the courage I have. This is one of the mornings that I am exhausted and wanted to fight back.
Without notice, she immediately grabbed a handful of my strands, which my hands grasped her wrist to stop hastily trying to stop her. "You don't want to?" she hissed and her expression turned to blank. "You choose, you will starve or suffer later."
I just sigh in response, feeling defeated again. I couldn't get to suffer anymore; I still have to work in the kitchen after breakfast and help Mathilda wash the dishes. However, there's still a chance during lunch.
"Serve us the food on the table," Mitchell demanded, letting go of my hair, and she got onto her seat.
I immediately went into the kitchen to fetch some serving plates for their food, and when Mathilda entered the room, I got busy in preparing the food for Mitchell's group.
"Darling," Mathilda started, helping her. "You don't have to do this."
I just looked at her and smiled. "It's fine Mathilda, it's nothing. This is normal."
"Just tell me when you can't handle it anymore," Mathilda offered. "I will always be here if you need."
"I know, Mathilda. Thank you," I smiled at her and gave her my most sincere smile.