Ainura distastefully looked at her lunch.
She could pick out some vegetables, but the cloudy nature of the yellow soup made her stomach roll. She knew that the vegetables were expired. She poked at it with her with her dull spoon before closing her eyes and chugging it down. She knew dinner wouldn't be better.
She knew to have low expectations.
Matron called attendance before sending everyone to take an afternoon nap. Ainura never took naps. She would merely pretend to sleep, and sneak around the building, especially the rooms she was forbidden to go to.
She heard Matron's footsteps receding, and took her cue to leave. She snuck to the open window, and onto the metal stairs. Her years of living here had taught her the steps to avoid and how to make the least sound. She couldn't risk getting caught. It would end in one week taking care of the toddlers. Matron knew she disliked working with young children.
She climbed up to the top turret of the Victorian-style orphanage, and slipped through the window. Ainura was the most frequent visitor to the turret. She liked to pretend that there used to be a happy family who used to live in the house, and had a daughter her age. She could make out that the turret used to be the daughter's room from the musty teddy bears stashed in the corner, and the peeling pink wallpaper. Pushed to the side was a small bed, covered in dust, savor one spot. Ainura took her seat at the foot of the bed, where she could face the window, and see everything in the room.
She could imagine belonging in this room. She was certain it was made for her.
Propping her body against the wall, she sighed in content. She could see the individual specks of dust floating throughout the room. When she was younger, she liked to imagine that they were small fairies keeping her company until her prince arrived to rescue her from her tower.
She began to grow her hair out, but Matron started to get fussy and had it trimmed to just below shoulder length. At least it was long enough to tie back. She missed her long locks. It was one of the only things she had, before it was taken away from her.
YOU ARE READING
Time of the Endowed **BEING REWRITTEN**
Fiction généraleThe Endowed are a secret society. One that's kept secrets for hundreds of years. Children are tracked by the elders as soon as they leave the womb, the only proof being the peculiar star-shaped birthmark under their right ear. Once a child turns o...
