Rosalie

When I first adopted my daughter, the woman who owned the orphanage gave me a drug prescription for her, proclaiming that at a young age, the girl has been diagnosed with "unusual" allergies and was required to follow a strict schedule regarding when to take the medication and knowing which specific factors triggered her "allergies". The medication should be taken once a day for a month. Once finished, it should be stopped during the following month, then continue as per usual after the month in which no medication is taken. This routine should be continued for two years.

She also informed me that every two years, I would need to return to the orphanage to receive a additional supply of medication as the number of tablets she would take would need to be increased. It was evident that this was red flag, along with my observation that she gave no clear indication as to what the medication contained, aside from the brief explanation that it was ordered from an exotic country and it is commonly prescribed to effectively treat allergies. I was too ecstatic with the idea of having a child that I just agreed to the woman's instructions. 

My daughter, who I later named Rosalie, was nine years old when I brought her home. She was very shy and was not one to engage in a conversation. She has been educated at the orphanage her entire life and through what I have observed during my brief time there, the other children were reclusive and I was met with penetrating glares as soon as I met them. It was understandable why it seemed difficult for her to maintain social relations.

As soon as I sent Rosalie to a public school, there were some visible behavioural alterations. She joined a debate class and she was able to keep a stimulating conversation with me. She was a favourite of her teachers and gradually became popular amongst her classmates. 

This was in grade school. When she turned eleven, her medication, which she habitually took every other month, ran out and I was forced to go back to the orphanage and receive my next supply of medication. 

I brought Rosalie with me, of course, and when we reached the front desk of the orphanage, the same woman, Mrs Brown, had already set the container containing the medicine on her table within her view.

I noticed there were two containers this time. They were also larger in comparison to the previous one. 

"Ms. Gray, Rosalie, welcome back"

"Hello"

"Here's her medication. Now, you're required to take it twice a day for a month, stop the following month, then continue. You're already aware of this, I believe?"

I nodded in response. 

As me and Rosalie turned to leave, I had a quick, coincidental glimpse at a child in the orphanage, older than Rosalie, standing far off in the entrance of a long hallway. 

She looked so frail. So sickly. Her mouth began to foam.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rosalie is now thirteen. It is at this age that I can label her as the epitome of a reckless child. 

She's shoplifting,

Skipping classes,

Doing drugs.

She has also become exceedingly irritable. I don't consider this as an effect of puberty. 

She attacked a classmate. 

This had to be something else. 

She has also been sneaking out at night, without my knowledge. 

She habitually locked her bedroom door. 

The night she forgot, I went into her room to check on her.