IMPOSSIBILITY: The Forgotten Legend

6

Lost and Found

Saturday early afternoon arrived gray and icy cold, the air thick with the promise of snow in mid-November. Despite the bleak weather, I found solace in the quietude of the week, perhaps the calmest I'd experienced all year. The usual nuisance of Mitchell's group, posturing as model children in hopes of adoption, bothered me less today. I had no interest in feigning virtues just to leave this place.

After enduring the morning's unfair routine, I retreated to my corner of the room, far from Mitchell, Nanny, and Nancy, where I could relish a rare moment of peace. Mathilda and I had wrapped up our kitchen duties early, enjoying the tranquility until...

"Who gave you that food?!"

The room erupted with the arrival of three senior girls, their voices piercing through the silence. Mitchell's tone was as brash as ever, echoing off the walls. Despite their intrusion, I remained still, observing them through the veil of my hoodie, anticipating their next move.

"Who decided to give you a full meal?" Mitchell demanded, her volume unchecked. "Was it that old hag Mathilda?"

A smirk spread across my face, akin to the Joker's, as I sat up against the headboard. "It's called the perks of working in the kitchen. Those scraps you hoped I'd eat turned out to be a feast."

I dared to speak up. In these moments, Mitchell rarely spared civility in her words, leaving little room for anything but defiance in response to her relentless verbal assaults. Empowered by the strength I'd gained over the past week, I wasn't about to back down.

"Why didn't you eat the s-"

"Just so you know, I have the right to a proper meal too, not just scraps, especially when I'm one of the ones preparing it," I interrupted smoothly, smirking back at her. "I see through your act, Mitchell. Stop pretending. Your lack of parents is bad enough without worsening your health."

Surprise and disbelief flickered across the faces of the others in the room. It was rare for me to stand up and confront Mitchell, and the other girls looked to her with anticipation. Mitchell's fiery gaze met mine, her anger simmering beneath the surface. With a swift movement, she closed the distance between us, grabbing the collar of my hoodie. We were nose to nose now, tension thick in the air.

"At least I know what it's like to have a family, unlike you..." she hissed, her voice laced with venom. "Maybe they abandoned you because they couldn't stand the darkness inside you. You're a monster, a murderer! Hiding behind that fabric like a delusional coward, pretending to forget your bloody past. They were better off without you, even in the afterlife they'd want nothing to do with you."

I should have seen it coming, this escalation. Her words were like knives, cutting deep. If it were just insults aimed at me, I could have brushed them off, but the mention of my family, whom I couldn't even remember, struck a nerve. It hurt more than I cared to admit.

For a moment, my mind went blank. Without conscious thought, my left hand slapped Mitchell's, freeing myself from her grip. Simultaneously, my right hand swiftly seized the broken mirror from the side table beside me, and in one fluid motion, I cut my wrist.

Mitchell's victorious smirk faltered as she followed my gaze to my bleeding wrist. Her expression shifted uncomfortably.

Quickly, I concealed my wrist, watching in amazement as the bleeding miraculously ceased.

"Just a reminder, behave like yourself when they arrive," Mitchell said dismissively, signaling their departure. I exhaled deeply, grateful for the respite.