My Patchwork Child

Chapter Seventeen

Alden took me back to the orphanage, helping me with my crutches (on which I am still unstable). He speaks calmly to the owner, an unpleasant looking women with a thick, long nose and strange crooked teeth. I would tell you her past, but looking into those horrific eyes to see who she was wasn't necessary or something I'd see as very nice.

I glanced furtively around the dark, frankly moist, room. The corners were damp as if the room was sweating. The wallpaper was peeling from the wall and the floorboards creaked with every step.

Huddled far from where we stood was a group of children muttering and looking over their shoulders at me. They had messy exteriors. Scrappy hair, ripped clothes, they looked comepletley unloved. And none of them seemed very friendly.

It was clear who the 'ring-leader' was. The tallest boy was sat up straight, and the others shut up when he opened his mouth to speak.

Alden leaned down and took my shoulders, 'Right, now, Misty. I'll come to see you real soon, Bean.' He kissed my forehead. 'You'll be fine.'

The door shut and I was alone again. The owner grabbed the back of my neck and shoved me forwards, 'Get in, ya pathetic child.' I limped a few steps into the room she directed me in. She had a gruff, ugly voice.

Once we were in the room to her satisfaction, she pointed half-heartedly at a bed. The sheets were mouldy, the mattress looked uncomfortable and bumpy and there was no pillow. 'Right, that there's yer bed. Lights out at seven pm, no la'er. Breakfast is at seven am, if yer late, you don't get none. Lunch is at one pm and dinner is five pm. Yer allowed outside anytime bet'een eight am and six pm. Caught out'ide before or af'er, yer gettin' no food for two comin' meals. Clear?'

I gulped and nodded up at her. What a foul-faced hag, she was. I looked at the floor and scowled to myself. This place is horrid.

I never wanted to be put back in these kind of conditions. But, honestly, this place was almost heaven compared to my time before Alden. And, I say almost, because (for me) no place may be called heaven without Alden.

I didn't speak with the other kids. I spent most of my time in the library. Though I doubt you could call it that. It was a shelf with a few torn, battered and old books sprawled out along it. It was quite sad to see the dust that had collected on them.

I found the other children would play and shriek outside and I'd tuck myself into the corner of the garden, half in a bush, to avoid being trampled. It turned out with Edna (the owner) had said 'you're allowed outside...' she'd meant; you must be outside.

The books were good enough entertainment and they managed to stave off most boredom I felt. It was lonely and I found comfort in the different array of characters. Reading about heroes, saving the people they love. Or animals, braving the harsh world of people. Or magical creatures, living in harmony or perhaps despair.

A week had passed and Alden hadn't visited at all. Already he was breaking his promise.

I was huddled in my bush, reading one of the tattered old books on the shelf. Some of the ink was faded away, so much so I couldn't read it. But the book itself wasn't bad.

I was in the repetitive (but simple) process of turning a page when the obvious gang leader, followed by a small mob of kids, approached me.

He stared down at me and cast a shadow over my pages.

'Bookworm, eh?' He sneered, towering over me. He kicked the hardback cover from my hands. I remained calm since I found him to be utterly unthreatening. But his kick had managed to graze my knuckles.