IMPOSSIBILITY: The Forgotten Legend

5

Winter's Embrace

Life at the orphanage typically followed a structured routine: waking up to sunlight streaming through windows, getting cleaned, eating, learning, and playing. It was a routine that promised hope for a new day, hoping each morning might bring a family willing to embrace her wholeheartedly.

But Dena didn't fit this mold. She preferred the cold, snowy winter mornings that enveloped her in a comforting solitude. For the past three weeks, as winter settled in, these mornings brought her more joy than any other time of the year.

The chill would creep into the orphanage, coaxing Dena awake early, a welcome change from the jarring brightness of sunny mornings. She cherished the frosted grounds, feeling as though winter had gifted her a personal sanctuary. She loved the way her boots crunched in the snow, leaving trails like marks in cotton candy. The icy air brushing her skin and the sight of her breath turning into fog were comforting companions on these winter strolls around the orphanage grounds.

While everyone else slept peacefully, she wandered, lost in her thoughts. Her outfit—thin, worn-out jeans, a faded cream sweatshirt, sturdy winter boots, and a floor-length crimson red cloak—was her only possession from before the orphanage days.

Against the backdrop of the white walls, she stood out like a splash of fresh blood in a hospital. The orphanage authorities had explained her situation: her entire family perished in a fire the day she was involved in a traumatic accident near a mall. Her memory of those events was lost, leaving her with a haunting reality and a reputation that scared off potential adoptive families.

"I've been rejected many times," Dena thought to herself, reflecting on her past hurts and the pain that had left her feeling numb. "But that's okay. I'll make it through... someday."

Suddenly, the tranquility was shattered by the stomping of boots on the snow-covered ground. Dena recognized the sound instantly, knowing trouble was approaching. It could only be Mitchell, accompanied by her loyal followers.

"Is she still alive?" Mitchell's voice rang out, dripping with condescension as she surveyed Dena and delivered a swift kick to her side, momentarily knocking the breath from her lungs. "How can anyone just lie there in this cold?"

"Nah," Nanny, Mitchell's friend, responded dismissively, avoiding eye contact with Dena as she focused on her nails.

Dena rolled her eyes, stifling a scoff at Nanny's indifference. Nanny was Mitchell's most devoted follower, willing to overlook any cruelty for the sake of maintaining Mitchell's approval. Dealing with her was never easy; she thrived on admiration and wielded sharp words without regard for their impact on others.

"Is she even human? How does she manage in this cold?" Mitchell sneered, emphasizing her disbelief.

Nanny scoffed, eyeing Dena disdainfully. "Human? After all she's done? She's more like a monster... a killer."

"Oops, my bad," Mitchell mocked, joined by her giggling minions.

"And besides," Nanny continued, narrowing her eyes. "She's breathing way too fast for someone who's supposedly asleep."

Rolling her eyes, Dena knew she'd been caught, and her day had just started.

"You know what, Dena," Mitchell taunted, her smirk mischievous. "You might as well give up now. You've been busted..." She kicked Dena hard in the side. "Red-handed."

Pain shot through Dena, and she groaned, clutching her side in agony. "What do you want this time?" she managed to ask, feeling defeated.

"It's your turn to help the old hag and make breakfast," Mitchell commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.