all that we got | adopted by zerkaa

✧ CHAPTER ONE ✧

May 2015

Life is anything but easy.

Some people have it better than others, where life is handed to them on a silver tray with a cup of tea on the side.

But, even those people will have challenges thrown into their pathways, because, at some point, everyone struggles. Whether it's only a little or a lot, that's one truth that no one can argue.

You aren't supposed to be unhappy forever. Things are always meant to improve and end up okay. That's one thing life makes sure of. But, that was not what it seemed for me.

They called me Ellie, only because that was one of the few things these people knew about me. Well, that I told them. They found out more because of records and other sorts of things. But, even after spending six years in an orphanage with them, I never connected with anyone there.

Orphanage. What a terrible word for the place that wasn't so terrible. Stories paint these places as dreary walls filled with cruel owners who starve and beat the children there. No, that wasn't right. It was more of a safe place, I suppose. A sort of haven away from the real world. Away from the streets.

It wasn't a completely awful house. It had used to be an old hotel, which closed down a long time ago. The British government had turned the property into the orphanage it was now.

The old furniture had been sold and new had been bought, filling the guest rooms with smaller beds to accommodate more children. Any paintings had been donated if they were of historical value, and the rest were auctioned off to anyone willing to spend the money for it.

The orphanage, renamed from the "The Everest Hotel" to "The London Home" was handed over to a couple who the government believed would be a nice fit for the job. And, for once, they were right.

Their names were Norton and Anya Francis. At ages 30 and 29, they opened the orphanage, taking in both boys and girls under 18.

Norton Francis was a tall and lanky man with arms that were almost slightly disproportionate to his body. He always had his black hair slicked back, and thick grey glasses were ever-present on the end of his nose. He had the tendency to stay quiet, but he never failed to come up with the most fantastic stories to tell the children living in the home. Whenever he smiled, crinkles would appear on his chocolate-coloured skin, and they were only there because he never seemed to stop smiling.

Anya Francis was a short woman who had an hourglass shaped body. She had the habit of waving her hands around as she spoke, which was often. Her chestnut coloured hair was either straightened or pulled back into a bun, but in rare occasions, she allowed it to slip back into her normal wild curls. She was the stricter of the two, but she always had a glint of joy shining in her blue eyes.

The couple had owned the orphanage for a total of seventeen years, giving the children there a chance for a better life. It had been opened for eleven years before I showed up.

The whole home gave off a pleasant aura, with the sounds of feet running across the wooded flooring and laughing echoing off the papered walls. It held the hope of a new opportunity, which you could feel as soon as you stepped in though the front door.

The orphanage housed almost one hundred children, ranging from infants to teenagers, all with different stories and backgrounds. They were all bonded with one similarity: they needed a home.