—Come on, wake up already.
I stayed silent, pretending to sleep.
—Oh, little one. Don't worry, I'll be back in 10 minutes. After that, no more extensions, got it?
I didn't respond, listening to the soft footsteps of the blonde woman moving away from my bed and the sound of the door closing behind her. Only then did I dare to open my eyes and cautiously examine my surroundings.
Where was I?
The question echoed in my mind as I tried to orient myself in this strange place.
—This isn't hell… nor is it heaven. —I murmured to myself, the words barely a whisper in the room's silence.
I observed every detail of the room with skepticism. It was a normal room, the kind of place where a normal child would sleep.
Where am I?
The question lingered in the air as a memory invaded my mind without warning.
My mother's smile.
Her sweet voice, the last I heard before… The thought remained unfinished, the pain too raw to process.
After watching her die, I found myself exposed to the harshness of the world without even time to mourn her loss.
Darius, I recalled with a bitter taste in my mouth. The man who took me away from her simply left me in this orphanage and walked away without a word.
I didn't hold a grudge against him; the truth was, no one wanted to take responsibility for an orphan like me.
The least he did was leave me in some underground shelter for orphans.
I looked around with new eyes, assessing the place. The orphanage was surprisingly large and housed about twenty new orphans.
The facilities left me perplexed: dormitories, a dining hall, a playground, a sports field…
How is it possible for an orphanage to have such good conditions?
For someone like me, who had lived in a house akin to a shack, this place seemed too good to be true.
I lowered my gaze to my bare feet, feeling the wooden floor beneath them. My clothes were clean, too clean.
"How strange," I thought as I looked at the plate in front of me: an apple and two pieces of bread. All of this is too strange.
All the children were eating at a large wooden table while seated on wooden benches.
The feeling that something was off never left me as I spent most of my time analyzing every detail.
When the bell rang that afternoon, I saw the children playing in the courtyard entering the orphanage.
Some were my age and height, others were bigger. The boys wore long shirts with white pants, the girls wore long shirts with white dresses.
What was that?
I wondered when I saw one of the sisters handing a letter to a blonde boy.
—A letter sent by a sponsor. —A voice beside me startled me.
I turned and found a red-haired girl with beautiful crimson eyes staring at me, her hands behind her back. Her white skin seemed sculpted from white jade, and her crimson lips looked like blood. Her beautiful nose and thick, double-lidded eyes harbored madness. Behind it all, her ruby-red hair glimmered in the sunset.
—Sometimes they send gifts too. —The girl, who seemed one or two years older than me, looked at me with raised eyebrows.
—Don't you have a sponsor?
I didn't respond. I didn't want to talk to anyone, not even a girl. But she had other plans.
Suddenly, I felt her hand grabbing mine, pulling me along like a toy.
—A sponsor is an adult who takes care of you and wants to adopt you. —She explained as she dragged me with her.
Later, in the dining hall, I heard her declare with conviction:
—Adults are kind, they're not bad.
—No! They're not! —A boy of similar age with reddish-brown hair, sitting beside her, protested.
I stayed silent, watching the exchange expressionlessly as she negotiated:
—Alright, let's say half are kind and half are bad, Reinhardt.
—Fine! —The boy named Reinhardt seemed satisfied with the compromise.
The girl kept talking as she ate with the fork in her left hand:
—That boy, Matthew, got a huge toy from his sponsor last time. He wouldn't stop bragging about it. It's for hitting people on the head!
I didn't want to hurt her, so I listened in silence. My gaze must have reflected the sadness and melancholy I felt, but she didn't pull away from me.
Even during classes, while one of the blonde caretakers explained something in a classroom full of wooden seats and eager children, the girl kept talking to me.
—Lily's sponsor bought her clothes. A pink dress! It's so gross. —She commented with feigned disgust.
Later, under the light of a lamp in one of the dormitories, I heard her declare proudly:
—Me? Of course I don't need a sponsor! Because my mother promised to come get me! She said she'd come after a hundred nights. —She raised her left hand, showing her fingers—. A hundred nights will pass in the blink of an eye! You know that, right?
I forced myself to smile, feeling my heart sink in my stomach.
—…I hope she comes soon. —I heard her murmur, her small voice as she interlaced her fingers.
The next day, I heard my name. The blonde caretaker was smiling, holding a letter. She knelt in front of me.
—It's a letter for you. —She announced sweetly.
—You already have a sponsor. Aren't you happy?
I looked at the letter with uncertainty. I didn't want to be adopted. I didn't want to replace my mother.
A noise distracted me: the tray, spoon, and fork the red-haired girl was carrying fell to the floor as she stopped dead, staring at the letter in my hands.
I saw her expression change: furrowed brows, trembling lips, glossy eyes filled with tears. For some reason, I felt awful watching her run off crying.
I thought I should let her calm down first, but after a while, I went looking for her. I found her in another room, hidden under a study table covered with a white blanket.
—Get out! —Her trembling voice tried to scare me.
I obeyed, but only for a moment.
For the first time, I was going to act like the child I was.
I returned with two cookies, lifting the blanket to leave them by her side.
—…Those are the things you treasure. —She muttered with a sullen expression.
I saw her take a cookie and bite into it while turning her back to me.
—…The truth is, the hundred nights passed a long time ago. —She confessed in a low voice—. My mother thinks I can't count to a hundred, but I can. —Her voice broke, replaced by sobs that shook her small body—. Now I'm alone. —The words came out through tears.
I sat in silence, leaning my back against hers.
I was alone too, but I didn't say it. There was no need. I felt her surprise at the contact, turning her tear-streaked face toward me.
For a moment, a small smile appeared on her lips, and I felt something inside me soften a little.
Maybe we didn't have to be alone.