I quietly stare out of the back seat window seal while my parents scream at each other again. Their voices becoming much stronger and persuasive about their opinions about keeping me or not every turn we take. Although dad knows that mom will win either way, he continues to argue with her. It’s like they are doing it on purpose to make me feel unloved, or maybe I just am. As they proceed, my eyes burn with salty tears like they have been ever since they told me about this—place. I wrap my arms around myself tightly, and scream inside. This is not happening. It’s just not happening.
“We’re here,” my mother announces.
“Get out the fuck out and walk up there,” she turns her head back towards me with that I’m-going-to-kill-you look.
I don’t move any part of me. My feet glue themselves to the floor, my eyes have a staring contest with the seat in front of me, and my arms clench my body as if I were a broken vase taped back together. I keep my mouth shut to a firm line, nothing more. The tears still come falling out but I don’t move. I try my best to understand the exact reason why this could even be happening, but nothing comes to mind. I know that I haven’t done anything that bad in my entire life, but now I guess I did one small thing and now I’m here. Is this even fair? Is this even my fault, or are they just not ready for a teenager.
“Just tell me why. Please. I can fix whatever I have done, just please don’t leave me here,” I plead for forgiveness.
“I’m sorry darling. I really am, but it’s for the best,” my dad speaks.
“How is this for the best?” I exclaim with sorrow.
“Because we believe you deserve a mother and a father,” my dad answers.
“What does that mean?” I ask another question.
“We’re getting a divorce,” he slowly speaks.
“Bitch, go. Now,” my mother almost screams.
“Go,” my dad repeats after her quietly.
I stare at my mother and then at my father, and then back at my mother again. She stares at me with her demon eyes, and my father stares at me with his forgive-me eyes. See that’s the odd thing about them. They are completely different people. My mind traces back to my father who said that difference was a good thing. Wrong. He was so wrong.
“Will you come back for me?” I ask.
“Just get the fuck out of my car!” my mother demands.
I force myself to open the car door. The cool breeze smothers my face, and slowly it comes in through my nose. I shiver at the coldness of the air outside. We had left three hours ago, and I had become confused, until my parents told me where we were headed. Now that we’re here I wish I had brought a jacket with me. I toss one leg out of the open doorway, which makes my body turn a little bit more towards the breeze. I blink my eyes furiously as the gust smashes my eyes, and turns my tears into ice cubes. I swing my other leg outside and slowly lift my body up from the seat knowing well that it’s a bad idea. The last part of me in the car is my heart. I imagine it sitting on the backseat squeezing itself out of love. I can see the expression on my mom’s face as she sees the broken heart. My dad’s is completely different. It’s full of worry and misery like normal.
“I love you Payson Marie,” my dad yelps.
“I love you too dad,” I respond without meaning.
My mother doesn’t reply, but instead starts the car up again. I reach for my heart in the backseat, and try to pull on it. It doesn’t exactly move. It seems to be stuck, glued, or maybe it’s a trick of my mothers. Then I realize that I’m just imagining it there, but I do feel that it’s going with them. I reach up to where my heart is supposed to be with my right hand and feel it still beating. Thank god. My mother’s eyes tell me to close the door, and I do as if I am her robot.
She hits the gas pedal as my father stares out his window to look at me for probably the last time. He waves, but I don’t wave back. The painted color on the car fades away as it travels farther and farther away. I feel my bones burn with flames, and I see my life dying. Me dying. When their car completely fades I turn towards the orphanage. I read the sign on the outside of building, World-Nation Orphanage. The street lights barely show any of the buildings features, from them being so dim lighted.I slowly make my way up to the orphanage building while continuing to cry and I start replaying everything that just happened. As I approach it I can see that it has just gotten a new paint job. It looks very modern. I knock on the door, and wait outside for some sort of answer. I loose my balance, falling to the ground. I cry out in pain, I cry out because of being forgotten.. Because of being despised. Because of all beings, it was me who was born to such cruelty. Could it have been different if she lived..If my tw-
“Yes,” a middle aged women looks down at me, and then gasps
“Oh my, come inside honey,” she says almost immediately after that.
She helps me to my feet, I push her away slightly. I can do it on my own..
I walk in slowly. There’s a white desk on the right of me, and stairs to an upper floor on the left of me. A few doors line the back wall, where the stairs go up, and also there’s a door at the end of the stairs. The wooden floor all shifts to the left, but it fits nicely with the doors and stairs. The women leads me over to the desk, and points down to the tan chair, mentally telling me to sit. I sit into the chair with ease, the comfort is unreal. The woman sits across from me in a black rolling chair.
“I’m Krystal. If you don’t know, this place is an orphanage. Are your parents around honey?” Her gentle voice sweeps through the air.
“N-No.. They- They..They abandoned m-me.." I ask her through tears. It takes me at least 5 minutes just to respond.
“Oh my god. You poor soul. God bless you. Come here sweetie," she says in shock.
"No! Don't you..dare touch me."
"I'm sorry," she moves a bit away.
"How about I show you up to your room, and i'll get your information when you're ready. Does that sound like a good plan?"
I take rapid breaths, making my voice sink into the depths of hell. I just nod as tears roll fast down my cheeks, into my mouth, and down on my chin and neck.
She quickly gets up, and I follow more slowly. She leads me up stairs, and down a hallway. A year later, it seems, we reach where i'll be sleeping for the night.
“Here we are,” Krystal says in front of me, more calmly.
I turn my head slowly towards her, and see that she is pointing towards a double door. She slowly creeks the door open, and allows me to go first. I quietly walk into the room full of beds that are full of girls. They seem to be asleep, so I try my best to be as quiet as possible but I continue crying loudly. Krystal points towards a bed at the far end of the room, which also has nobody in it. I nod to her and she understands that I’ll be going to bed now. She simply turns around and walks fast back out of the door.
I slither into the bed and cuddle myself up with the warm blankets. I allow my head to fall onto the pillow gently like a feather falling from the sky. I hold my hands together allowing everything to sink into me. Including my dead sister, my dads’ stories, my mother’s evilness, and mostly this orphanage. I start remembering awful memories that make it hard to breathe as tears explode, and coughing erupts. Snot runs from my nose, and I rub it onto the blanket. I sit up and let everything kill me. I let it stab me as much as it wants. I look at the window on the big wall, two beds down from mine. You could escape. You could run as far as you could, you could let the glass shatter and make blood pour from your body. You could-.