The Tearsmith

A New Home

Even with her somber outfit, she remained the most

The most exquisite and brilliant item on the planet.

"They'd like to take you in."

I never imagined hearing these words.

For an instant I believed I must have gone asleep and was dreaming since I wanted it so much, had desired it since I was a small kid. Once more.

However, this was not my dream voice.

It was Mrs. Fridge's stern growl, her voice full of her customary disdain.

"Me?" I gave a shocked gasp.

She curled her top lip and glared at me.

"You."

"Are you certain?"

She clenched her pen between her plump fingers, and I recoiled at her scowl.

"Are you no longer hearing?" She lost her temper. "Did your ears get blocked by all that fresh air?"

With wide eyes, I quickly shook my head in astonishment.

It was not achievable. It is not possible.

Teenagers were not wanted by anyone. Nobody ever desired older children, not in any situation...It was established fact. Everyone wanted a puppy because they were adorable, naive, and simple to train—just like in the dog shelter. A dog that had lived there its entire life was unwanted.

Having spent my childhood living under that roof, I had found it hard to accept this fact.

They would at least glance at you when you were younger. But as you got older, those stares would eventually fade into passing glances, and their sympathy would permanently etch you into those four walls.

However, now, right now...

"Mrs. Milligan would like to speak for a short while. She's waiting for you below. While showing her around the institute, try not to cause too much trouble. With any luck, you'll be able to escape this place if you keep your head out of the clouds."

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My mind was racing.

As I down the steps, the skirt of my nice dress flapped against my knees, and once more I wondered if this was all just a dream.

It was undoubtedly a dream. I saw an older woman with a nice face at the foot of the steps, holding an overcoat in her arms.

"Hello," she said with a grin, and I could see that she was staring at me. That had been a very long time coming.

"Hello..." I let out a breath.

She informed me that she had seen me earlier when she was entering the institute through the wrought-iron gates in the garden. With the shafts of sunshine coming through the leaves of the trees, she had spotted me in the tall grass.

"Hello, I'm Anna," she said as we got to walking.

Age had softened her voice to a velvety quality. I stared at her, spellbound, wondering if one could be shocked by sound or fall in love with something you had just heard.

"How about you? What is your name?"

"Nica," I said, attempting to control my feelings. "Nica is my name."

She gave me a questioning look, and I was so eager to meet her stare that I failed to pay attention to where I was walking.

"What a strange name that is. I haven't heard of it previously."

Indeed. My eyes become bashful and evasive. I was given my name by my parents. They were both scientists, kind of. An example of a butterfly is Nica.

My parents were the only people I could somewhat recall, and even then, it was as if I was viewing them through a dirty window. I could almost see their features staring down at me if I closed my eyes and sat quietly.

They passed away when I was five years old.

One of the few things I could recall was their gentleness, which is what I most desperately missed.

"It's a really lovely name, 'Nica'..." Her lips rolled around my name as if she wanted to taste how it sounded. 'Nica,' she repeated decisively, with a graceful nod.

She looked into my face, and it felt like a warm light was beaming down on me. It seemed as if my skin was glowing under her gaze, as if a single glance from her could make me shine. This was a big deal for me.