The Thief Knows Almost All

Prologue

Hello, my name is Elizabeth. I have no last name to those who are wondering. I assume you're thinking along the lines of 'why?' or 'How come?'. Well, I was unfortunate to have an adoring family. Rather, I was cursed with villainous ones. I didn't always live with them. I lived in an orphanage before. It was later when they came. The ones who adopted me. Out of all the children in that old and rugged shack called home. It was me.

I remember the scene quite clearly. I woke myself up, rolling off my squeaky mattress, ascending my two year old body onto the floor. As opposed to hauling myself up from the dust covered floor, I laid and listened to what was around me. I could hear the children screeching in excitement outside the thin walls. I could see the dull, blue covered walls, layered with stains and cracks. Lying for another moment, I lifted myself up. My favorite purple blanket falling to my feet. Bending down to pick it up, I held it firmly between my fingers. Walking to my only light source, the window, I peeked through. I searched for all and more. I saw that the sky was beginning to grey, clouds already forming around the sun. I saw the trees sway with more force, a sign that the wind was picking up. I saw the once slightly bright colors of the trees and patches of grass, darken into rather dull, unfascinating colors. Turning around, I walked out of my room that I shared with the other girls, and into the hallway.

Softly padding my feet across the wooden floor, keeping my eyes in front of me. Not once looking at the walls that held pictures of the children that were adopted from this retched place. I myself do not want to be adopted. All adults lie. No matter what, they always will. They lie about their so called affection they hold for. They lie about saying that you're safe. That you will not be sent back. That they are only doing what they think is best for you. They all lie and I'm sick of it. Reaching the end of the hallway, I came into an opening that splits into the playroom and the diner. Turning to the right of the room, I come into the so called 'kitchen', and head for the table. In the orphanage, we all had an assigned seat. Mine was at the very end of the table. A place where no one would sit. Just me with my food. If you could call it food. A white bowl filled with mush for porridge. But beggars can't be choosers. Arriving at my spot, I reached out to my chair, lifting myself onto it with ease.

Arranging myself to my satisfaction, I lifted the spoon and silently begin to eat the mush. Not too long in eating, I could hear the childrens screams stop from outside and the loud ruckus of stomping feet coming from the entrance. I could hear soft mutterings of the children. From my spot at the table, I could see a few picking at their sleeves. Others gnawing at their lips, and others hoping from one foot to the other in excitement. What for? I haven't have the slightest idea, nor do I care. When I finished my food, I gently placed my bowl in the sink. Heading to the playroom where others were, I walked in without being noticed. Heading to a corner close by the door, I sat and brought my blanket close to my face and watched everyone. I watched as the children fought over a toy. I watched as they played house. I watched as they would fall, some crying, some brushing it off and would continue to play to their heart's content. I saw how oblivious they were to the world, how they did not see the people missing on the television, and how they refused to acknowledge the bruises they received from the caretaker. They wanted to stay in their little world they had built for themselves. One where there is always a happy ending. I once tried to tell them, to make them see. But I have a heart that gets on everybody's nerves. They don't want the truth, they just want the words.

So I've learned to respect what they want.

Even though I don't understand why they would ignore everything for something that doesn't even exist.

Hearing someone clear their throat, I looked up for said source. Clashing with my vibrant, rather unusual, violet eyes with the caretakers muddy brown ones, she lifted her old and pale hand, beckoned me over with the curl of her finger. Holding my breath for a moment, I hoisted myself up, gripping my blanket with all my might, and headed her way. When I was close enough, she turned around and we both ascended to the hallway. And at the very end of it, was her office. Realizing where we were headed, a million thoughts went through my head.

What did I do?

What am I blamed for now?

How much will it hurt today.

Opening her door, she let me pass her. What I didn't know that when I walked into that room, signed my fate, and my death. Looking up from the floor, I realized I wasn't alone. There sat two people, a couple. The woman who stood before me was rail thin. Her face was long, with a long pointed nose that turned up a bit. She had thin, feathery blond hair with droopy brown eyes. Taking note on how tall and lanky she looked like, I wondered how fast she is if I were to run. Quickly looking at the light blue dress and small heels she wore. I don't need to run, not now, not yet. Rubbing off the thoughts, my eyes swept to the man beside her. He stood tall, as if proud of something. Why on earth you'd be proud in an orphanage, I would rather not know. He was tan with muscle lying underneath the shirt he wore. He had brown hair with grey hair in some spots with dull hazel eyes. He wore a blue plaid button up shirt with grey khakis, black shoes finishing the final touch.

Looking at their smiles, I made my decision that I didn't like them. Not one bit. It all screamed fake. They were fake. And there was only one reason why they were here. In this orphanage, me standing in this room. I knew what they wanted. They wanted me. And it scared me. I knew that my life will not be the same.

I knew that they would make sure of it.

I knew that they didn't care.

I knew that they would hold no love for me as a parent should.

I knew that I was going to be completely alone. That I would have no one to hold. That no one would hold me.

But I didn't know what my life would become after it would end.