Corkscrewed (Camren)

1 - The Beginning

Everyone has a morning ritual. Whether it was the norms like waking up and showering or a rare one like writing down dreams on a book while waiting for the day to start.

I have one weird one.

Every morning before the sun comes up, I would push a chair next to the window and with great effort, I would climb up. I would open the window with my small hands, lean on the window ledge and stare outside while waiting for yet another bright new day.

I never understood why I did that, but that never stopped me. Maybe it's because the sun never failed to show, because the sun is dependable while the world wasn't. Or maybe.. I just wanted to be just as bright as the sun.

But before anyone could wake up, I would close the window, move the chair back to it's original place and sleep again; or at least pretend to.

There were a few kids in the room but none of them could be trusted. Some of them bullied me when I was just 3 years old while the others just watched.

That's why I never really became close with them. They would rat me out if they knew that I opened the window that the Ms Smith strictly forbid us.

That was, until a girl named Lauren came.

-

I was sitting on the worn couch in the living room, listening to my foster brothers and sisters bicker over small things whilst reading a capturing book that I found outside, laying on the grass idly.

It wasn't the type of book any normal 5 year old would read, it was old, wordy, and simply deteriorated. I think that's the reason why I loved it; it had a story.

Who read it? Why were there so many stains on most of the pages? Why is it so worn? How many times did the previous owner read it?

So many questions that I wanted ask. But I can't, because the answers aren't there.

According to Ms Smith, my caregiver, she found me in the middle of the night at the doorstep of the house. There wasn't anything attached to me except for my name, Karla Camila, and my Date Of Birth.

But even as I was intrigued by the novel, I couldn't read. I went to preschool that time - thanks to the courtesy of the donators who provided money enough for us to buy books - but the teacher was so tedious when it came to teaching us.

So instead of waiting, I asked Ms Smith to teach me.

You see, this house had two caregiver, Ms Smith and her sister who was also technically Ms Smith, but she preferred if we call her by her first name, Madison.

Ms Smith was one of the most patient woman I have ever met. I didn't really know much adults that time but I wasn't that stupid to not know that. Her sister, however, was the complete opposite. She was rude and despised each one us kids in the house saying that we were and I quote , 'A waste of time and energy.' I don't even understand how she was granted to actually take care us.

One time, I even heard her say, "You know Stacy? You should just stop wasting your life on these kids. If their own parents didn't want them, what makes you think that the others would?"

I couldn't blame her. We were the outcast, treated like rubbish because we weren't what our parents needed.

But Ms Smith was fuming when she heard it. She shouted at her sister, yelling that we deserve a chance and that the reason why we were thrown out wasn't because of us but because of our said parents. She said the we were worth more than everything in this world because we would be the one bringing change into the world one day.