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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1783050
Rated: E · Fiction · Family · #1783050
Life in an orphanage.
 Hardened  (E)
Life in an orphanage.
#1783050 by QX ~ Brenton->

Enveloped in greyness, walls musty, cracked and reeking with urine. The ground is softer then my bed with a leaking pipe in the corner of the room. Sadness hanging over me like a giant grey cloud about to dump its load on my head. Sitting on my rock hard bed with my old and tattered blanket that I was given on the first day I came here. With no sunshine coming into my hell hole of a room, this orphanage has been like a prison cell to me.
I have been living in this place for a year now, a year tomorrow. I looked into the back of my door, my worn face looking back at me. I have grown thinner over this past year. I feel I don’t know myself anymore. My long brown hair has been cut short and is frayed and my eyes are hollow with self-pity and doubt. I scare myself these days. 
I haven’t slept properly in a month. Tomorrow will be the anniversary of my families’ death, when I became what I am today.
I woke with a start, bed dripping wet. Two o’clock in the morning. Great, only three hours of sleep it must be a record. Slumping back onto my bed staring up at the plain ceiling trying not to think about that terrible day. Trying to drift of to sleep but it’s in vain. Three o’clock, tossing and turning trying to get comfortable but its like trying to sleep on a pile of coal. Four o’clock, walking around my cell trying to wear myself out. Sit. Stand. Walk. Lie. Stand. Jump. Nothing seems to be working, by this time its five o’clock. Lying back on my bed, closing my eyes. Fire flashes before my eyes. Screaming fills my ears, my hollow eyes stare back at me. CRUNCH! Lying on the floor with my cheek against the cold hard ground. Arm sticking out at a weird angle but fortunately it isn’t broken. The water from the pipe is dripping on my forehead but I just lie there even though I know exactly what is coming out of the pipe.
Slowly getting up, it’s six thirty now, I dress into my day clothes.
Walking down the corridor lined with grey wall paper with one single painting that just looks like a mass of paint thrown onto a piece of weathered cardboard. My head bowed and my feet dragging with sorrow. There hasn’t been a smile on my face in a year just this blank expression.   
Pushing the heavy old fashioned doors, that leads to the kitchen, open. They close with a surprisingly loud BANG as they clip shut.
I grab a plate and walk up to the cook. He raises his brow questioningly and I just nod with the same glum look as normal. He slops some scrambled eggs and dried overcooked bacon and a piece of toast onto my plate. So much different to what my dad used to make on Sunday’s. I look up at him and he just looks back with a look that asks for forgiveness. I just nod and slump off.
I get to the dining room, look around and find my table that is in the far back corner away from everyone else. Even though I know that all the other kids are talking and having fun and the room is as loud as the grand final of footy I don’t hear any of it, to me it’s dead silent. I feel as if I am sitting at a table in a cemetery. Sadness and death all around.
Back in my room, I left the dinning room after I had finished but didn’t speak a word to anyone.
Sitting on the ground, knees to my chest, just sitting there. I can’t get it out of my head, that horrible day, its haunting me. 
I was at the beach, it was my birthday. The surf was huge, the biggest waves I have ever seen. Sitting on my board facing toward the whitest sand with the swell rushing under me and the board throwing us up and down like we were just a piece of driftwood. The sky turned black, I turned around and saw the massive tower of the clearest blue comes quickening toward me. I paddle a couple of times and by that time the wave was upon me, it stated to break over my head. Jumping up on my board I lean forward and lean right to ride the wave. It picks me up on its face and I am climbing higher, higher up the front until I am on top of the wave while it’s slowly breaking in front of me. Faster it breaks, faster. On the edge now watching the water like it’s falling over the edge of the world, with me following it. I go over the edge head first dropping off of this ten foot wave, falling down into the cool blue water. Heart pumping, adrenaline rushing, nothing but exhilaration in my mind. Seaspray hitting me in the face. This is the day of my life.
Walking, more like floating, back to my house like I was on a natural high with adrenaline feeling like nothing could stop me. Until I turned the corner.
Stoped dead in my tracks by this huge ball of fire that was at the end of the street. It was my house. Dropping my board I started running toward the inferno. By the time I was halfway down the street the heat was so intense I didn’t think I was going to make it but with the adrenaline still pumping with the added mixture of fear I managed to make it to my front door. The flames engulfing the building were like ten to fifteen feet of complete terror. I think if I looked close enough I would have been able to see Death and Satan looking down at this site of destruction. All I could do was stand there. I thought it was over for my parents, no one could have survived that. An ear splitting scream filled the air and it wouldn’t stop, it just kept going. The window at the front smashed through as a blackened burning mass came flying through it landing on the grass. It was the thing screaming. It rolled over and looked into my eyes the way my mother used to, but it couldn’t be my mother.
The dripping has started again. I move and sit on my bed still cradling my legs. It couldn’t be my mother, could it? No my mother was beautiful that thing was hideous. But that look, it had to be my mother. “I love you”. It was my mother and that was the last thing I heard from her. She did love me. I start to cry, it has been the first time since I was a little kid that I have. It feels good to cry but I can’t stop. The tears just won’t stop falling.
After I finish crying I wipe away the last of the tears and smile. I look around my room with the bright red walls and soft bed. This is my home for now.
I get up and look out my window “This is a brand new day”.

© Copyright 2011 QX ~ Brenton-> (aestuo at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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