Reject

Chapter 4: Second Impressions

JAMIE

No one could see me as I am. No one could see my worth. I don't even remember anything about my life in the orphanage. Did I make any friends? Did I have precious memories, even just once? The fact that I didn't have any recognition of anything from the orphanage aside from that one event, nor the names and faces of the people I had contact with, only meant that it's not something I should remember.

Sander took me out of that place that I didn't belong in right from the start. My life began on that one summer day, his warm hand held mine in the middle of towering wheat grasses swaying softly as we passed, his smile as he gazed down on me was my source of light. We ran away from the orphanage, from everything.

I stared blankly at the dark wooden ceiling, sounds of the IV drip resonating in my ears. I lost consciousness last night, withdrawals early in the morning and three doctors immediately went inside and gave me medications. Luke was there earlier, his strong stature was hovered by emotions of concern and fear. It seemed like he stayed outside my room even after I said harsh words to him so he was able to aid me immediately after I fell on the bathroom floor. Slowly, I'm seeing him in a different light. But still, it didn't change the fact that he's the reason why I'm experiencing this right now.

My stomach suddenly growled, snapping me back to the reality that I haven't eaten anything since last night. I stood up, the beige blanket slipping down from my chest. My vision became hazy as soon as I did and my head throbbed. I grumbled but without any hesitation, I pulled the needle from the back of my hand. My blood dripped against it but I didn't feel any tinge of pain. This is nothing, I've experienced worse.

Dragging my weak body, I got up from bed and wore my contact lens on top of the side table. People told me how weird my golden eyes were so I had to hide it when I left the orphanage. It was one of the flaws that I hated the most. Because of these golden eyes, I felt different and alone.

As soon as I finished packing, I took my duffel bag and made my way to the door. Luckily, it wasn't locked. There are a lot of similar closed doors outside that someone new as myself would easily be confused. Huge ceiling-to-floor panel windows on the other side of the hallway brought light inside and you can see how vast their backyard was, almost as huge as one school yard with a few wolf-like statues and surrounded by towering pine trees.

My stomach growled again, reminding me to feed it before I venture into the unfamiliar woods outside. Obviously, they wouldn't have a kitchen upstairs, right? Following my intuition, I went downstairs.

Though this mansion was gigantic, almost like a castle that had my mouth wide in amusement, I didn't bump with anyone on my way to the kitchen. I had a quick glimpse at the vintage grandfather clock right beside the white marble staircase and I discovered it was already two in the afternoon. No wonder I'm famished. People who lived here might've gone to work and kids might've gone to school. But when I was about to reach the kitchen, a loud clank of utensils echoed from inside, followed by a soft shriek.

"I told you that you're cutting it the wrong way, Milly! The tomatoes look awful." a girl's voice said.

"Let me help, Tilly!" followed by a little boy's voice.

"No, Wilhelm. You're still too young to do this."

As soon as the girl named Tilly said it, Wilhelm's loud cries echoed throughout the whole mansion as if even dead bodies buried seven feet below the ground would frantically dug itself out.

I peeked through the door and saw a raven-haired twin girls, one wearing a blue dress and the other one pink, about eight years of age, sitting on the kitchen counter with bread, cheese, tomatoes, patties and lettuce messily splattered on top, while the blonde little boy, about three to five years of age and wearing a black jumpsuit, was sitting on the tiled floor with his face full of red tint which looked like ketchup and wailing like there's no tomorrow.