Runners of Neverland

Serenity House

"WAKE UP!"

Her eyes snapped open, and once again, she saw the grey concrete ceiling of the Serenity House Orphanage. Once again, she felt the scratchy sheets of her cot and the thin mattress underneath. Once again she swung herself over the side of her cot and folded her threadbare blanket neatly onto her bed. Once again, she brushed her hair and tied it into a neat bun. Once again, she slipped on the grey cotton dress everyone wore in the orphanage. Once again, she stood by her bedside attentively, waiting for Matron Blackwell to examine their cots. Once again, Y/n was pulled out of her dreams and back into this colourless world. 

"Good morning, girls," Matron Blackwell's icy voice pierced through the silence of the dormitory.

"Good morning, Matron Blackwell," around fifty monotonous voices replied. 

Matron Blackwell's imposing figure moved between the rows of identical cots, her hard shoes clacking on the tile floor, the sound echoing throughout the room ominously. Her hard black eyes scanned the room for imperfection, her disapproving frown seeming to deepen every step she took. 

"Y/l/n, you call this folding?" Matron Blackwell sneered, eyes narrowing on her neatly arranged blanket. She bit her lip, suppressing the urge to defend herself. Any protest would invite more trouble, and she didn't want to fuel her hate for her. 

"May I remind you that Serenity House is not a playground?" Matron Blackwell continued her stern lecture. "You're here because no one else wanted you. You're lucky to have a roof over your heads and food in your stomachs. Don't think for a second that you deserve more." 

The weight of her words settled on Y/n, and she knew Matron was right. Sixteen years within the confines of Serenity House had eroded the hope she once had for a brighter future. She knew that when she would finally come of age, opportunities for a fulfilling job or a joyful life were scarce, the orphanage having failed to provide much chance for growth. She willed her words away. She would not let her take the last of her hope. 

Matron Blackwell continued to prowl the dormitory, stopping every now and then to scold a child, who would look back with hollow eyes and weary shoulders, hope gone.

Matron Blackwell returned to the doorway. "Today, as every day, you will follow the rules without question. Disobedience will not be tolerated," Matron Blackwell declared, her thin lips pulled into a tight line. With a final cold glance, she briskly left the room, her footsteps echoing ominously down the hallway. 

The orphans silently walked down the hallways of Serenity House, which were adorned with faded murals of pastoral scenes, a cruel reminder of what could have been. The bland scent of porridge wafted from the dining hall, and the little light and warmth that filtered in through the windows was quickly consumed by the dark, cold ambience of Serenity House.

Y/n used to be able to wish it all away. She used to imagine myself on a tropical island, or deep in a jungle, or even in a fantasy land. She would wish the cold concrete ceilings into an endless blue sky. She would wish the tile floor into a field of lush green grass, and the walls would fall away, and for a minute, for a blissful minute, she could live in a world of fantasy. 

Y/n closed her eyes, and another world bloomed behind her eyelids. Lush meadows stretched beneath a cerulean sky, kissed by the light of an unseen sun. She could still find it, and see it all, but there was no warmth. She saw birds, but she couldn't hear their songs like she used to. She could see the colourful flowers, but she couldn't smell their sweet scent. Like she used to.

Y/n sighed. The line between dreams and reality became too distinct. Her imagined dreamworld didn't seem real anymore. Every day it was harder to wish herself away into another world. It didn't seem like it was enough. She couldn't feel it anymore. It was like this place drained her imagination more every day. Or maybe she was just growing up.

She joined the line for breakfast. I wonder what the porridge will be like today? Will it will be hard and clumpy or will it be water with three oats in it, she wondered. She moved towards the lunch matron, who spooned a serving of oatmeal that seemed to have the same consistency as cement. It was the same colour as cement too, to be honest. 

She slid into a seat next to her best friend Emily, exchanging silent glances that expressed their distaste for the daily gruel they were served. The dull clatter of metal trays and the occasional hushed whispers filled the air as the orphans reluctantly accepted their unappetizing portions.

"Morning, Y/n/n," Emily greeted, her green eyes reflecting the weariness that lingered in every orphan that resided in Serenity House. Though she was better at hiding it than most.

"Morning, Em," Y/n replied, trying to infuse a hint of optimism into her tone, though it felt forced.

The pair spooned the tasteless mush into their mouths, chewing mechanically, minds far away from the dreary cafeteria. As they ate, the door swung open, and the imposing figure of Matron Blackwell entered, again, scanning the room for signs of disobedience.

"You will eat every bite, and you will be grateful for it," she declared, just like every morning before, her voice cutting through the muted conversations.

The blandness of the porridge was a definite contrast to the vibrant conversations that buzzed around the room. Whispers of shared dreams and secret plans for escape rippled through the air. Y/n and Emily exchanged a knowing look, as this place was guarded somewhat, more heavily than a prison. They'd tried escape more than once, and it was impossible. She'd even broken her ankle trying to escape down the side of the building. Emily had dislocated her shoulder. It seemed no matter what they did, they'd never escape. The only way out was to come of age. And still, it would be just like escaping a small cage and entering a bigger one. Even outside Serenity House, what could they do? Y/n wished she was a bird. Then she could fly away and be free.

The rest of the day went by like clockwork. The orphans scrubbed the floors with worn out brushes and attended lessons, all under the watchful eye of Matron Blackwell.

There was to be no talking during our tasks, and the orphans only really talked at mealtimes. In their stolen moments, however, Y/n and Emily still fantasized about leaving this prison of an orphanage and living a better life. Emily wanted to find an education in teaching, somehow, and open up another orphanage, one that was filled with warmth. One where every child would feel wanted and safe. 

As for Y/n,she didn't know what she wanted yet. All she wanted was a life outside the walls of Serenity House.

Night fell, and Y/n climbed into her cot. It had a good view of the one good window in the dormitory, and she stared at the stars until she graciously slipped back into the dreamworld.