Finding Love | ✔️

three

/and in the end, we are all human, drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness

~F. Scott Fitzgerald /

♡

It's like I'm back to square one again. I can't sleep. It's freezing cold out here. I'm holding onto the same thin blanket I use inside. The night sky is clouded with grey puffs, the air is thick and pregnant with rain. It's the fourth day I've been alone, and it sucks. I've had only myself for company. At confession, I have said nothing each time. I have nothing to confess to the Priest. None of the Sisters have spoken to me but each have watched as I slave my way through the day.

It's gotten to a point where I can't take this anymore. My muscles remain ever strong, and so does my head, but I feel the injustice gnawing and biting at me. I feel wronged, by everyone. I feel as if everyone is out to get me, that there is no one I can trust. My Mother left me first, and after years of promising he wouldn't leave, my Father left me too. I've grown up with no friends. As much as Arghie is my best friend, we both know that we aren't in the land of skipping in daisy fields. We've got our own selfish needs to think of.

The first streak of lightning comes down. The deafening roar of thunder cracks through the air. One drop. Two drops. Many drops. Countless little bullets of rain hitting me, hurting me, blinding me. I can't do this anymore. I can't be here. This is not the place I can call my home.

I navigate my way around, trying to get back inside. All my senses have been numbed: my vision is blurred; my hearing is blocked by the roaring rain; my fingers and legs are weighed down by the water.

My nose really can't help in this situation.

I finally place my hands on the trap door, and I tug hard. It opens, and I whisper a thankful prayer to God, and I pull myself through. I am now in the storage room, the other room where you can access the roof from. The fact that it is raining hard outside means that I can't be heard by anyone, whether they are in peaceful slumber or not.

I walk my way round the building, past the offices, classrooms. I finally arrive at the girl's room, where about twenty of us sleep. My bed is still there, looking naked without a blanket or a mattress. I take out the metal suitcase from underneath my bed, containing all my things, and I start sifting through it for what I need. I throw them into a small grey satchel bag that I have.

I've never actually thought of escaping this place. It's never really been an option, or a thought that has crossed my mind. But maybe that's because I was never ready before. Well, now I'm ready to leave this life...

This life that has grown on me like bleeding hands reaching and entangling me in their grip, constricting me like a snake, timing each and every breath such that they tighten their hold on me when I try to exhale. I'm ready to break free and find a place that's better than this.

My Mum died when I was three. And for seven years, I watched my Dad join her slowly and painfully. Each day at this place does nothing but remind me of the pain that I carry. Even in the old walls and rusting pipes, the building continues to be eaten away and neglected. Like its inhabitants. All of us orphans walk around with the same sad looks etched on our gray faces, yearning once again to be touched and felt by loved ones. To be loved. To be loved.

I don't know what to take with me; not because I have much, but because I have little. I can't leave with nothing though. I have no prized possessions anymore. My only 'prize' was burned. Completely obliterated. I have nothing to go with, and really nothing to leave behind.

In the end, I go with a tee, a toothbrush (and toothpaste), some bits of food I 'borrowed' while in the store, and underwear. I put on my only brown pair of shoes. They're good enough.

But as I think this, a sudden though encroaches in my mind. What about Arghie?

I'm going to leave her all alone. And she's always been there for me. Small droplets begin to form on the bottom of my eyelids as I curse myself for being such a poor friend. I must tell her that I'm leaving.

I tiptoe quietly. Hers is two beds after mine.

"Arghie, wake up," I whisper, nudging her gently. She doesn't hear me. "Arghie...I need to talk to you."

She's a light sleeper, and she responds after a while.

"April? What is it?" I can sense the irritation in her voice.

"I'm running away."

"What?"

"I'm running away, Arghie. I can't be here anymore." She is silent, as if she is trying to convince herself that this is not a dream. She sits up.

"B-but...what about me?" Her voice is now shaky. She's crying, like I am.

"I promise I'll write to you. Postcards and letters and everything. And when I'm eighteen, I'll come back for you. It will be sooner than you think."

"Where will you even go?" She sobs, a bit too loudly.

"Shhh!" I whisper. I'm not supposed to even be in this room, and simply thinking of the repercussions I will face if I am caught is enough to send a shiver down my spine. I suddenly notice that the heavy rain has now melted into a light drizzle. Arghie and I sit in the dark, with the silence surrounding us, listening to the pitter-patter of the rain against the roof.

"I'll find a circus or something," I say hopefully. But even I'm not that sure.

Arghie remains silent. Then, she just says: "Okay."

"Okay?" I ask. This isn't the resistance I expect.

"You're a caged bird in here, April, I've always seen that. You need to fly free. And I'm more than sure that we'll find each other again." I hear the smile on her lips. "You better contact me, though. Or I'll come looking for you."

I let out a small laugh. I know she'll be just fine here. She knows how to stick to the rules and not get in trouble. She can tolerate all of this. I, on the other hand, am not as gifted.

"I'll miss you so much. You're my bestest friend in the world," she whispers, wiping her tears away.

"I'll miss you too. But promise me you won't tell anyone about this." I say.

"I will never." Our pinky fingers interlock for the last time. We hug, and then I leave.

---------------------------------------------

I walk confidently, with my back towards the orphanage building. This is it, I tell myself. I only have the broken street lights to guide me, but I continue to push on and fight, like I've always done. I smile to myself and raise an imaginary glass in a toast to freedom.

To discovery.

To finding a certain something that will heal the battered up bits of my heart.

I drink to that.

♡

Guys, this is where the adventure really starts! I'm excited for this, and I hope you are too.

~ stay lovely x