Life was always the same. The clangor of the morning bell, the sound cutting through the thin walls of my bedroom and piercing my head, until I lifted my pounding head from the pillow. My feet would hit the bitterly cold floor, my toes curling to the pain of the frost bitten wooden boards and the way they numbed my skin. I would walk foot by foot to my dresser and open one of the small drawers to reveal my yellow dress, showing that I was still innocent. All the children wore them until you went to the institution and received your right of passage to be a woman. I would slowly pull it over my throbbing head, and for a moment I was immersed in brightly coloured cotton, and I could pretend that I was somewhere else while hidden from the harsh world that lay on the other side of my thin barrier of material. But then I would eventually pull the cotton down so it rested on my shoulders, and I would find myself in my desolate room, my teeth chattering from the cold. My white socks would come next. I would sit on the rickety bed and pull them over my small feet, wriggling my toes. Then my shoes, which I would slide into. I would carefully give my hair three strokes of my brush and then ties it into my headdress. Then the rhythmic clomping of my shoes would lead me to the door as I tied the cross of my necklace onto its chain, and I stepped out.
There was Candace and the twins.
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Affliction
Teen FictionWhen Nausicaa Pickthorn is asked to leave her home,she knows what's coming next. Her family cannot afford to keep her,and at thirteen she is legally recommended to leave the house. Her parents must send her to an institution where all girls of her k...
