As Katelynn's days drifted on in the orphanage, she learned quickly what was and wasn't safe to think about.
Hope became a luxury, something to be hidden away, something that only led to disappointment and heartache. She began to rely on simple routines, the little things she could control, as a way to keep herself steady.
Every morning, she would fold her blanket into a neat square at the end of her cot, make sure her shoes were lined up just so, and carefully hide her single treasured possession—a small, worn teddy bear—under her pillow.
This bear was her only tangible connection to the life she once had, a reminder of a time before the cold walls of the orphanage. In its worn-out fur and loose stitching, she found a semblance of comfort.
She clung to it every night, a fragile token of something soft and familiar in an otherwise harsh world.
