Metanoia (n.) the journey of changing one's mind, heart, self or way of life.
Part one
Darcy Russo a nine year old girl living in a run down orphanage on the outskirts of Athens, Greece has had to fend for herself for the majority of her life. Bei...
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6 years later
I watch as the light from the moon cascades down and reflects off the ocean as I contemplate my options. I could stay at this tranquil beach and enjoy the light breeze brushing against my arms just for a little bit longer and let future me deal with the punishment for being late or I could return home now and subject myself to an extra half and hour in that hell hole.
Feeling sensible, I decide that I should probably go back now. Brushing the sand off my overalls, I call out to Bear who's probably chasing some poor animal in the thick patch of trees behind me. He eventually emerges covered in dirt and sprints his way over to me, "Come on," I beckon as I turn my back to him, making my way to the street.
The subtle gleam from the street lamps illuminate my skin as I make my way through the many back alleys and shortcuts that line the way back home. Home
I can'teven call it that. I don't remember how I ended up in the orphanage but I do remember that I've hated every second of it. From the constant noise, to the filthy conditions and the illegal business that takes place behind them walls, it's a miracle that place is even still open.
But what's worse is the people. Our 'carers' who are supposed to looking after us are really just sadistic drug addicts who enjoy seeing us suffer. Thanks to them I've had to mature quicker than I should have. They ripped away my childhood, my innocence.
Distracted by my thoughts, I didn't realise that I'd almost made it back. I turn around expecting to see Bear who never strays off but instead I'm met with the empty pavement. "Bear?" I call out, my voice slightly raised in panic. I'm met with nothing except a few blank stares of some passing pedestrians. "Bear!" I call out louder this time, scanning the area for any sight of his fluffy tail.
I spend the following forty minutes retracing my steps back to the beach. The street becomes darker as I enter areas that aren't illuminated by street light. The uneasiness from being in the dark and the panic from losing Bear was about to send me into a full blown panic attack when I spot two hind legs and a tail sticking out of a trash can laying on the side of the street.
Immediately I rush over, praying that its Bear and not just some random stray. When I'm met with this adorable face covered in whatever food he was eating from the trash, a wave of relief washes over me. "You almost gave me a heart attack!" I yell at him before leaning over and scratching his belly.
The walk back was filled with me constantly turning around to make sure Bear hadn't gotten distracted by another pile of garbage. Not until I reached the front of the orphanage did it dawn on me, I was late. Very late.
