And Then Death Held Out His Hand

That Night

When I was five, my nightmare became reality. One night my parents lives came to an end. And that was it, they never came back.
My baby sister was stuck in her seat, crying, mums cold hand resting on her head. The sirens haunt my dreams today, pulling me back the that night, the night where I had to grow up, and leave a world of fairies and magic far behind.

After that, as we sat in the back of the social workers car, my tears finally stopped. With a last sigh I said good bye to the past, my two year old sister to young to grow up. I had to protect her against the world. And this was only the beginning.
The orphanage loomed up in front of us, it frightened me, like a haunted house. The social worker held my hand and smiled down at me, and then she was gone. The only things I had in the world was my sister, one pair of clothes and my teddy bear.
And I was alone.
The orphanage was a cold and lonely place, but I came to call it home after a long time. Unlike the other little girls, I didn't let myself laugh and play dress ups. I had already grown up, that night in the cold.
I started school where I was an outcast, in my second hand clothes and too small shoes. At first I wouldn't even talk, I would just stand there with silent tears sliding down my cheeks.
My sister got over it better. She was too young to understand but as you know, I had already grown up.
At night I would stay awake terrified of what was hiding in my dreams, until I finally fell asleep of sheer exhaustion.
Then there were the times when I heard the sirens. Those memories haunt me, to painful to bear. The first time it happened was when I was walking to school. I was in prep and had just started feeling comfortable. We walked together in a big group, orphans of all ages, going first to the primary school and then the high school. As we waited for the lights to turn green, I heard a sound that made my heart stop. I heard the other kids voices as if through glass. My vision blurred and I flash backed to the night my life stopped.
The sirens became my memories, the blood of my parents on my hands, the cry of my sister. Then as the police man smashed in the window to reach us, everything went black.
This was how it went for many years, as I learnt to let go and force back the memories. I finally learnt to sleep again, hugging my teddy bear to protect me from the darkness, I started to smile and, most important of all, made a friend.

Her name was Christine, and she held my hand as the sirens rushed past and didn't mind when she had to do all the talking.
It was her who heard my first words, saw my first smile. I poured out my heart to her, and she stood by my side, all this time.
Now I am 17 years old and in a foster home. My sister is with me and the best thing I have in the whole world ( of course I still have my teddy bear). An old couple in their mid 50s look after us and I have a 3 year old foster brother. Life is looking up, maybe I'm an orphan, but that doesn't mean that I am alone.