Desolation (Adopted By Phan)

Prolouge

Two years. That's how long they had been gone. That's how many years I spent alone in that stupid British orphange: Mrs. Patty's Home for Unfortunate Girls. Never had I wanted to scream as loud as I did here.

The girls are all crazy. You can hear them scream at night. The screams out of horror movies, only magnified to a million. Yet, the caregivers never notice. Only once had a kind, old woman noticed. She attempted to soothe the girl straining against her vocal cords. She didn't return the day after that. Or the next day. Or ever. Whether it was by choice or force, I'll never know.

I'm probably stretching the truth a bit here. It's not all bad. We get to go outside all we want. We get to leave the orphange. Plus, we get to decorate our own rooms. Mine was a pale, pastel pink with drawings decorating the walls.

I'm thirteen, about the age when girls stop being adopted. Why? I don't know. There's only one girl older than me, she's fifteen. They have to let her leave soon. Then I'll be the oldest.

I don't want to. And I won't.

I won't end up like her. I'll make it out.

Soon.