༺Masterpiece༻

IX :: A Hundred Miles

"There's a heart that must be
Free to fly
To a place where I
Can be real and not conceal.

I wore a mask of
Someone that I'm not
And my identification fooled everyone
But could it change who I am
My song of life is sung
In a voice that belongs
Not to me
But my reflection
Whom I don't know.

Is it my reflection?

Must I pretend that I'm
Someone else for all the time?
Must there be a secret me
I'm forced to hide?
Why must I hurt myself
And alway lie?

When will my reflection
Show who I am?"

⊱ ───ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ─── ⊰

"Pretty lady, you're not supposed to be out here. Why are you here?"

"And who were you looking for again?" She, quite modestly, questioned the hardly built visitor, keeping her tone tough.

"The owner, owner of this orphanage. What a luck I have! Early in the morning, fate chose me for an encounter with a cheap woman!" The visitor tilted his shrivelled lips, forming a certain sly smirk that the woman had to reciprocate.

No, she's not a fighter, nor is she trying to break the glass ceiling in another male-dominated field like chemistry, law or engineering. Just by looking at her, you can tell she's quiet traditionally feminine as well but yes, she is a strong female character. Her strength, physically and emotionally, was evident in her posture. A fine lady, a very fine lady.

"How lovely your voice is, isn't it? You want the owner, don't you?"

"Absolutely! No one comes to an orphanage to meet a stripper." The visitor spat out the words like they were nothing. It was only her heart that spat on his face. Afterall, animal abuse was a crime.

"Right!" She turned around, knocked her heels on the marbled floor and turned back again, approaching the man with a brighter smile. As if she was meeting the man the first time.

"How may I help you, sir?" She interrogated, her cheer alive in her young soul.

The visitor wasn't as interested in the dainty damsel's mockery all in the morning. With a disgusted face, he asked," Bring the owner!"

"Oh, I see. I believe I should book you an opthalmologist before. I can do that at a really subsidised price, for you don't look so well off. Or perhaps, you need education facilities. Well, the owner is standing in front of you." A ghastly look formed on his face. He was talking to the only woman entrepreneur of the country after the war had seized. Had he known it before, he'd have behaved.

Her one gesture called in her favourite people, the daughters and wives of the martyred military. People called them the "7 rings" , although they weren't just 7 girls. They were a group. And rings? Supposedly useless to align with but "7" and "rings" reminded her of those 7 years she wished she could rebuild with him.

Turning around on her heels again, she left the room, declaring that a man like him could not be bestowed with the responsibility of a child. The "7 rings" pulled the huge gate shut on his face, declaring off day for the orphanage.

Taking off her dazzling jewellery and her badge, she sat in front of the mirror and smudged her makeup off to reveal those scars and dark circles that built this place. Now, it was only her and her reflection. Who could assume that a fragile girl could morph into someone so tough. Would he recognise her when he returns home? Would he know that girl inside her who speaks no more? Would he still call her his?