The Twist in Our Fates

Acquaintance

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Seventeen years later.....

        Mrs. Wallaby knocked...err...banged at the door of my room. Well, I can't exactly call it a 'room' as my space is just as good as a janitor's closet. Instead of mops and brooms and washing buckets, my 'room' was cluttered with a small broken mattress for a bed, a cupboard half my size, and a tiny desk, no bigger than a bedside table. I sincerely thank the Lords for my petite size, that allows me to survive in this petty room.

        "Pearl, get up!" Mrs Wallaby hollered. "The Winchesters will be here any moment! I need you to help the girls clean up."

         Mrs. Wallaby was the head administrator of the Virgefall Orphanage. She was a thin, lean, and tall woman with a warm heart, and a compassionate personality. With her watching over me, I had never felt the absence of a mother. She was the one who looked after the orphans of the Virgefall Orphanage with such care that she was sometimes compared to Mother Teresa. Mrs Wallaby was truly a gem of a person, and even the adults who came to visit the Orphanage would feel so comfortable and taken care of. Mrs. Wallaby was my role model.

        Since I was the oldest at the orphanage, I was automatically bestowed with the job of caretaker. My responsibilty of caretaking was further influenced by the fact that I never stood the prospect of being adopted. Children above the age of thirteen, like me, aren't exactly the best options for adoption most of the time. It is usually the cute little clean babies that the adopters looked for. I had never fit that criteria. There would always be this one girl or boy cleaner than me, or better at social skills, or cuter than I was. Therefore, I guess I outgrew adoption.

        Still groggy from sleep, I threw the blanket off my thin and small body, and hopped off the mattress towards the common bathroom. I quickly brushed my teeth, and splashed my face in cold water. Grabbing a towel from the towel-hanger, I blotted away the cold, refreshing water droplets off my face, while gazing into the mirror.

        My dark, wavy, chestnut brown hair which fell few inches beneath my shoulders, was knotted up and messy like a haystack. Bed hair... how glamourous. My complexion was a rosy cream, contrasted by dark and sharply arched eyebrows, which in no way made me look devilish. The most striking feature about my visage, I believe, are my eyes. They are literally like two blazing sapphires streaked with grey, like a sea. I would have really loved to find out who genetically gave me those features. Unfortunately, life had other plans for me.

        After having finished my post-wake-up session, I skipped towards the girls' dormitory, and started helping the little girls clean themselves up and be presentable for the coming guests. To my great contentment, the girls above ten years usually grow responsible, being orphans and all, leaving me with the small ones to handle.

        Most of the girls were up, and heading to the washroom, except this little girl still bundled up under her blanket, at the far end of the dormitory. I instantly knew who it was.

        Walking towards her bed, I could make out her little face peep out of the blankets. Her face looked unusually pale and ashen. Without second thoughts I ran towards her and placed my hand on her forehead.

        "Anna? Anna wake up," I cooed.

         Her pale forehead was abnormally warm, and her short, brown locks were doused in sweat. I grabbed her delicate shoulders and shook her up a bit, gathering no response from her.

        "Oh my God," I muttered, panicked.

         I yelled at the top of my lungs and screamed,  "Mrs. Wallaby! Anna has been inflicted with high fever! She is unconscious!"