Beep. Beep. Beep.
I am awoken by the blaring sound of my alarm going off. I sigh, and reluctantly sit up. As I rub my eyes to try to clear my vision, I remember what time it is.
"Oh shit," I mutter under my breath.
Standing now, I hurriedly put on my worn out Converse, and check my digital watch - one of my only keepsakes from my childhood. Good, it's only 6:21 am. I look around my tiny, cramped room, and spot my bag on the floor beside my bed.
I walk over to grab it, and then cautiously head towards my door. The door is white, with chipped paint and rusty hinges - I have to be very cautious when I open it.
Gingerly, I turn the doorknob and slowly push the door out. It makes a slight groaning noise in protest, and I wince in response. As I continue, I try to be even more careful, and finally, there is a big enough gap for me to slide through.
Now that I'm out of my room, all I have to do is make it through the hallway, past the few rooms of sleeping children, down a staircase, through one more door, and I'm out. Of course, this all has to be done in complete silence, or I risk waking the headmistress - and all hell will break loose.
You see, I live in an orphanage. I have ever since I was eight, when my bastard of a father died in a car crash. But that's a story for another time.
My point is, Angel's Haven Orphanage isn't a loving and caring home like some would think based off of the name. All orphanages have names like that, to disguise what a hellhole they truly are. And while the headmistress, Hanna Svenson, may seem like a nice person that truly cares about children (which you'd hope, considering she works at an orphanage), but trust me, she doesn't give a damn about any of us. We could all drop dead one day and she probably wouldn't even notice!
Well enough of my bitterness, let's just say that if I was caught sneaking out, I would be facing some nasty consequences cooked up by Ms. Svenson's twisted imagination.
I take a deep breath in. I can do this, I think to myself. After all, I can't even count the number of times I've broken rules here and gotten away with it.
You could say I get my unlawfulness from my dad.
~~~
As I walk through that last door, I breathe in the fresh air, my body thrumming with adrenaline and success. I turn back behind me and make sure no one's watching me, and then I turn back to face the view in front of me.
The sun still hasn't risen, and the sky takes on a light grey color. The only thing in front of me is a grassy plain stretching on for miles on end, but to the right I know there's a road. The only connection we have to the outside world. But that's not where I'm heading today. About a mile away is a grand oak tree, stretching out into the lightening sky. I consult my watch again and smile. I'm right on schedule.
I take a few seconds to adjust my bag, breathe in, and then I'm off.
Since I do this quite often - in fact, almost every morning - I'm in pretty good shape. In fact, by the time I reach the tree, I'm not breathing very hard and I've arrived with time to spare. Dropping my bag unceremoniously on the ground, I settle onto the long grass and look off to the distance, waiting.
In a few minutes, I get what I came here for. The sun comes peaking up, and breathlessly, I watch the sky undergo a glorious transformation, changing from grey to yellow, orange, pink, red, and blue.
I sigh. No matter how many times I watch the sunrise, it never gets old. From the time I was young, I've always had a fascination with the sky and everything in it.
Although I'd like to think there was no real reason behind my interest in the sky, memories I try to choke down resurface, and I see myself back on Myrtle Beach, South Carolina.
~~~
I practically grew up on the beach, since my parents owned a beach villa about five minutes away. My mom would always take me down to the beach and we'd lie down in the cool sand together, staring up at the sky. She'd take my hand and point at a cloud, and ask me what I saw.
We'd make up stories together about the shapes we saw in the sky, and we'd giggle together for hours on end. Sometimes we'd stay to see the sunset, and I'd gasp at the vivid colors splayed across the distant waves. My mom would look at me and smile, and once it got dark, we'd go home, where I'd eagerly tell my dad all about the new cloud people I met today, and how beautiful the sunset was, and he'd smile and share a knowing look with my mom.
~~~
Of course, now you must be wondering why I seem so bitter towards my dad, and how I ended up in an orphanage, seeing how great my childhood must have been.
Well I'll tell you this much.
People change. They break their promises. They leave you.
