Orphan

-Sophia-

~A/N~
Just a quick note, I'll probably be doing more than one chapter for each character to start off, but later in the story I might only be doing one for each character.
~L~

     I woke to early morning sunlight dancing through the window, and for a moment I forgot where I was. Then that bittersweet feeling rushed through me again, just as it had every single day for the past two years. I've been the only one at Ms. Pattinson's Home For Unfortunate Children ever since I arrived here two years ago, and the years of solitude has made me the quiet, shy, yet independent person I am today.
     I lay in bed for a few more minutes, not really wanting to get up because it was so early. But finally, the sunlight streaming through the curtains made it impossible to go back to sleep. I groggily got out of bed, waking to the closet and looking for an outfit to wear. Finally, I decided on some dark skinny jeans and a t-shirt. I went over to the mirror, studying my appearance for a moment. My long blonde hair shone in the early- morning light. My blue-grey eyes stood out even more this morning. I wasn't sure why, but it's happened occasionally before. I brushed out my hair before tying it into a messy bun, pulling the hair out of my face except for my bangs.
     After glancing in the mirror one last time, I walked over to my bed and pulled the sheets up half-heartedly. I sighed and flopped back down on my bed, grabbing my book and opening it to the right page. I tried to read, but for some reason I couldn't concentrate on the words that flowed across the page. Finally I closed the book and lay on my back, staring up at the ceiling.
     My room at Ms. Pattinson's was even bigger than my room back home, and my huge canopy bed faces a window. The walk-in closet was bigger than I needed, but sometimes when I was upset I liked to sit in there and close the door, just to be alone.
     I also have a large floor-to-ceiling bookshelf against the opposite wall, and it's about halfway full. I'm working on filling it all the way.
     I hopped off my bed a bit reluctantly and went into the bathroom, splashing my face with cold water to try and wake myself up. When I'd dried my face with a towel, I stepped out of the bathroom and was about to head downstairs when I heard a noise. It wasn't anything unusual, and it was probably just the house shifting a bit, but it caused me to turn around. My eyes wandered down the long hallway, stopping briefly at each of the doors. Are these all rooms? I wondered. Curiosity got the better of me, and I stepped quietly toward the room next to mine. I rested my hand on the knob, trying to decide if I should go in. I glanced down at my hand, but a small engraving caught my eye. I squinted at the letters and my eyes widened. I ran my thumb gently over the engraving, blinking a few times to be sure, but the letters never wavered. A name was engraved in the tiny gold plate above the doorknob, and I whispered it aloud.
     "Lucas," I said softly, enjoying the way the name rolled off my tongue. But then I realized that if "Lucas" ever came here, he would be staying in a room right next to mine. And that would mean there would be more people arriving at Ms. Pattinson's. My hands started to sweat and I could feel myself shaking slightly, and I jerked my hand away from the knob. This was the first time my social anxiety had kicked in since the day I arrived here and met Ms. Pattinson, and I didn't count that as a good sign. I took a few deep breaths, turning away from the door. I walked a bit shakily back to my room, my stomach rejecting the thought of breakfast. Before going in, I glanced down at the knob and saw the same tiny gold plate. My eyes grazed over it, and my heart started to beat faster as I saw what was engraved.
     Sophia.
     I turned the knob quickly and hurried into my room, shutting the door and locking it behind me. I went to my bed and sat down, breathing deeply and trying to make my hands stop shaking. How did she know my name? I would've noticed if she'd put the plaque there recently, I thought to myself.
     Finally I calmed down enough to go down to breakfast, the nausea I had felt before vanishing as the smell of French toast wafted up the stairs. I walked casually down the spiral steps, trying to look as if nothing unusual had happened this morning. It didn't work.
     "My, Sophia, you look like you've seen a ghost! Are you all right?" Ms. Pattinson asked me, looking up from the French toast she was cooking.
     "Um- yeah, well-" I started to say, but I didn't want to worry her this early in the morning. "It's nothing," I said quickly. She looked at me skeptically, but didn't say anything else. I took my place at the table, helping myself to a piece of French toast.
     I ate quickly, not wanting to answer any more questions. When I had finished, I thanked Ms. Pattinson and stacked my plate next to the sink, hurrying back upstairs to my room. When I was safely inside, I glanced at the clock on my wall. 8:30. I had thirty minutes before lessons began, so I started getting ready. Ms. Pattinson believed strongly in good education, and once told me how she'd gotten her teaching degree a few years ago just to teach us. I was the only one in my classes, obviously, but it was kind of nice because it made the schedule more flexible. My first class was Language Arts, which I had always excelled in, and I started to grab the things I would need. I took my Language Arts textbook off the shelf, along with the book we were currently reading. Next I took a few things off my desk, including a pencil, an eraser, and some lined paper. I shoved all this in my book bag and glanced at the clock again. I still had twenty minutes.
     When I had finished getting all my things together, I went downstairs and found my way into the classroom. Ms. Pattinson was already there, writing a sentence on the whiteboard. I sat down in one of the desks, only to realize I'd forgotten my notebook. I quickly asked Ms. Pattinson if I could go get it, and she smiled and told me to hurry. I raced up the stairs and grabbed the notebook, running back to the classroom and arriving in my seat out of breath. Ms. Pattinson was trying to hold back a smile, but she told me to come prepared next time. I nodded solemnly, copying down the sentence in my notebook. I was supposed to fill in the blank, and today sentence was: Today I had ____________ for breakfast.
     I smiled and wrote French toast in the blank.
     I continued through Language Arts, soon moving on to Math and then Art, followed by Science and History. Lunch was between Art and Science, and dinner was after all of it. We had pizza for dinner, and I collapsed onto my bed afterwards, stuffed full. I'd never really had a bedtime at Ms. Pattinson's, so I usually stayed up until I got tired, drawing or reading. I pulled out my notebook and a pencil, drawing whatever popped into my head. I liked doing this, because sometimes it helped me fall asleep. I drew until my hand got tired, and then I read my book for a while. Finally I grew tired, so I changed into my pajamas and crawled into bed. My last thought before unconsciousness took me in it's dark embrace was whether the rest of the doors had names engraved on that little golden plate.
     My dreams were filled with doors and names, and one dream was particularly vivid and caused me to wake in a cold sweat.
     I was walking down the long hallway, and I couldn't see the end of it. I stopped at one of the doors and saw that the nameplate had my mother's name on it. Just then, the door flung open and she came out, her eyes completely black and filled with hatred. Her fingernails turned into claws, and she slowly morphed into a snarling wolf. She leaped at me, claws outstreched, and I stumbled backwards into another door. This time my dad opened the door, his face curled into a sneer and his eyes also completely black. He slowly began to morph into a scorpion, his deadly stinger aimed at my heart. He drew the stinger back and thrust it forward, just about to pierce my heart when I jerked awake, drenched in sweat. Tears rolled down my cheeks, soaking my pillow as I cried. It wasn't real. I knew it wasn't real, but I pulled my sheets up to my chin, curling into a ball as I looked fearfully around my room. I didn't even try to go back to sleep. It would've been impossible anyway. I squinted at the wall clock, trying to make out what time it was, but my room was too dark. I leaned over and switched on my bedside lamp, pressing my face into my pillow when I saw the time. It was only 2:00. I reached for my sketchbook, deciding to draw the horrible creatures from my nightmare. A single tear inched down my cheek as I drew, waiting for the gentle light of morning.