Abandoned Anne x Gilbert

Chapater 1~ we wanted a boy

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A red headed girl creeps out of her bed, which is in the middle of a large room, cramped next to rows and rows of other beds, exactly the same as the next. Each with a girl, like herself, lay in them, curled up a ball, hugging themselves trying to see what affection feels like. Trying to distance themselves from their reality, of no parents, no love, no affection and to fall asleep as though everything is perfect. Dreaming they'll wake up and their bed will by in a large room, except on its own, the room filled with posters and childhood teddy's, their parents waking them up with the smell of bacon and a hug.

However the red head, Anne Shirley, doesn't get much sleep, because if she does she'll have nightmares. Nightmares that she'll wake up and her bed will by in a large room, except on its own, the room filled with posters and childhood teddy's, her parents waking her up with the smell of bacon and a hug. To Anne this was a nightmare because she knew it would never come true, why get stuck dreaming of something that'll never come true? She's here in this place, that's the way it's always been and that's they way it'll always stay.

She tip toes out of bed, gently placing her pillow under the blanket in case there's a surprise head count as one of the women of the orphanage go to the bathroom.

Anne always used to imagine things, exactly all she did was imagine things.

She creeps out the bedroom, except the word to her meant nothing, not what it means to other people. It wasn't the place she'd go to feel safety or comfort or to cry, not even to sleep. To her it was simply a room with beds in it.

She makes her way down the halls pressing her back against a wall as one of the women walk to the bathroom, just as she suspected. She slips through a door which leads to a tower, it has nothing in it except a spiral staircase. Before she walks up the stairs she looks up, a tradition of hers, every time she could almost swear the stairs led to nothing. They just disappear after a while, like they lead into a magical kingdom where everything floats on clouds. Except Anne didn't imagine things anymore. She walks up the stairs, like she's done thousands of times before.

She traces her finger along the railing, imagining to back when she was young and she would walk up these stairs. She imagined she was was a princess, princess Cordelia and this was her tower connected to her humongous castle.

"So stupid" she whispers. I actually though I was Princess Cordelia. She thinks to her self embarrassed. She's sixteen now, seventeen in a few weeks, she should be going into junior year in a few days. She's more mature for it, a lot less imaginative, thank god, not that Anne believed in God.

She gets to the top of the stairs which leads to a room, well it's barley even a room. It has just enough for her to take two steps towards the window. She slides up the window which glides pretty easily now, after years of this same repeated situation. She steps out the window and climbs onto the roof. She looks down at the ground beneath her, knowing if she makes one wrong move she could fall to her death. Even though she knows this to be true, she's not frightened, she exactly enjoys knowing this. The fact that she's got life or death in both her hands gives her a high, she's in control, it's the one thing she is in control of, not her life, no, she's definitely not in control of that. But her death, now that, she's in control of that and no one can take that away from her.

She lays back on the roof with her knees up right and her hands on her stomach. She watches the stars as she grabs a small box from her pocket. She opens the box and gets out a cigarette, placing it in between her perfect lips. See she's slowly taking years off of her life and no one can give them back to her, they can't do anything. She cups the cigarette with her hand, away from the wind, away from the lighter getting blown out. She sucks on the cigarette for a second or two before grabbing it bettween her index and ring finger. Inhaling the smoke, as she feels it going down up throat and into her lungs. She lets the smoke out and carries on smoking her cigarette gazing at the stars, just as she does every night. After the cigarette is on its last legs she sits up, pulling her sleeve up her arm to reveal small burn marks all along it. She presses the cigarette onto to her wrist, twisting it side to side slightly as she inhales sharply. She throws the end off of the roof just as she hears a voice coming towards her.