𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓻

I

"Perhaps the butterfly is proof that you can go through a great deal of darkness and still become something beautiful "
Unknown

It isn't that late. One more chapter won't hurt anybody. Sighing, I finally decide to put my book down on the bedside table to my right as quietly as I can so I don't wake up the girls.

" Alora, you go to bed way too late! I won't allow you to let those stupid books of yours ruin your sleeping schedule and affect your chores do you understand me young lady?!" would say Miss Sullivan if she was beside me right now. Those remarks are getting quite repetitive and as you can see, aren't exactly effective.

I turn off the little lamp beside me and curl up under my bed sheets.

01:56

I slowly close my eyes and try to fall asleep while the minutes pass slowly. However, my mind fills itself with thoughts each more oppressive than the other. When I told the nurse of the orphanage about my trouble falling asleep, she brushed it off and told me it was probably just a phase and that it would pass soon. This was a year ago but I know another visit would turn out useless.

02:11

I turn around in my sheets, trying to find a comfortable position. I end up on my back, looking at the dirty ceiling above me. Although it's dark in the room, I can see some of the little cracks that cover the white paint. And just like that, I start to count them one by one in hope that sleep itself will tire and let me rest.

03:01

It's raining. I can hear the rainwater drops hitting the tall window of the dorm. I wonder if there will be a storm. I love storms. Strangely, even when the wind is so aggressive that it brings with it the branches of the strongest trees and even when the thunder is so loud that the children rush into their parent's bed, it brings me peace. It soothes me like the caresses of a mother when she reads you a bedtime story.

04:24

I am awfully tempted to pick my book back and read until the sun comes shining through the curtains. Of course, it would be a very irresponsible decision since I have many things to do today that require a good night of sleep. On the other hand, the night isn't so young anymore and I will probably lie awake until morning anyways.

Taking a quick decision, I grab the book and return to my reading.

•••

That day, I shoot out of bed before any of the other girls and rush to the showers in hope that it will give me the energy I desperately need today. Stripping from my pyjama and my underwear, I get into the cubicle and turn on the hot water. Letting the water soak my hair, I close my eyes appreciating the rare silence around me. Those moments are truly rare in an orphanage as full as this one.

After washing my body and my hair with the ridiculously tiny soap, I step out and dry myself with my towel. I then put on my grey dress and tie my hair up into a bun.
As I turn around to leave, my eyes catch the mirror. Of course, there are eye bags under my eyes due to my lack of sleep. It has become a normality for me considering my sleeping schedule but I still despise them. They remind me of all the nights I've spent lying in bed incapable of falling asleep. I wish I had as much facility as the girls in my dorm. As soon as their head hit their pillow, I can hear their breathing getting more regular and their soft snores.

I carefully walk down the stairs in hope of not waking up anyone. It is, however, difficult as they all make those loud cracking sounds. When I get to the bottom, I can already see the cook in the kitchen, hunched over the oven. A big pot sits on top of it, and even without seeing the inside, I can tell it contains the famous oatmeal I have been eating every single morning for the last fourteen years of my life. I always try to convince myself it doesn't taste that bad but my tastebuds do not agree.

When Miss Mavirelle, the cook, looks at me, she lifts her brows showing surprise.

"You're up early girl." She says in her usual dull tone.

Understatement of the fucking year.

"I had a good night of sleep and wanted to shower in the calm Miss." I lie trying to sound convincing.

Some of the employees here may be mean and boring, but they are, for most, not stupid. Everyone here knows about my tendency of reading late at night.
Miss Mavirelle simply gives me a strange look and chooses not to argue with me so early.

After that encounter, I decide to take a walk in the pitiful space they call a garden. Breakfast isn't served until 6:45 therefore I have a big forty-five minutes for myself. I put on my black lace boots and my gray coat before going out the door.

Outside, the sun is peaking through the tall trees and I can hear the birds sing pretty melodies. As I walk on the small dirt paths, I observe the few bushes of flowers along it. Recently, the orphanage made a trip to the public library and I found a book on flowers. I discovered that those white beauties were called lilies. There were many more types of flowers in the booklet but I didn't find any of them on the orphanage grounds. Keeping a slow pace, I look around and breathe in the fresh air. Those walks are truly necessary when you live with so many people in a tiny place.

As I make a turn in front of a big oak tree, I notice a tiny figure floating above me. The form gets lower and lower until it stops on my extended arm. A butterfly. I find them fascinating. So magically beautiful from a certain distance but unexpectedly ugly looked from too close.

•••

AN:

Alora is one of us my friends

First chapter!! For now, there isn't a lot happening but there will be more action later. Can't wait to write more!

With love, L

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