Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ♡ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙
𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐔𝐒 : Every hour you endured in that home was Hell on Earth. You sat and watched as your thumbs pricked underneath the sewing needle. Every inch of your skin contained a sign of scarring, from finger to wrist. And unlike the life of most teenagers, your day was spent sweating under extreme conditions of heat, from the building's lack of air conditioning.
From a small age, you were forced into working for hours on end, supplying upper hand men with the money they didn't deserve. The only thing you, and all of the other orphans, received in return was a tray of slop. Something anyone couldn't even begin to call edible. Days felt like weeks, weeks felt like months. You were in agony..
Within the same building, lived a corridor of boys, under identical treatment. The distributors of your misery had several facilities in which they "took keep" of homeless teenagers. But the harsh reality of it was, they forced all of you into staying in the painful atmosphere. No POLICE force around cared enough about kids from the streets, to prevent it from happening. Families weren't informed, because just alike you; everyone around was an orphan.. Essentially, you were the perfect prey for the villainous people who ran the joint. If you dropped off the face of the Earth, there wouldn't be anyone to mourn.
For years, you wanted nothing more than to get out. To be able to set foot off of the premises and finally have sense of freedom. You wanted to feel the natural feelings of a teenager. Relationships, friendships. The only socializing you'd had was with the other girls in the home, and even then, it was quick to be cut off by a demand of not talking. Every precious thing in life was taken away from you, the moment you stepped foot into the door of that orphanage. It was time to get out. To stop wasting your days, behind a sewing machine, and find things that would be true to yourself.
Therefore, in order to escape, you had to concoct up a plan..
It didn't take you long to draw out a elaborate scheme of how you were going to get off the premises. All whilst you'd started collecting up the courage, and purloining the tools given to you for working. Everything was peaking. You were going to do this, and do it right. The men who put you through so much suffering, would no longer be a worry, once you made your getaway.
Until, one night, when you'd heard the sound of commotion from outside your bedroom door. Every girl you'd seen in the work space was free from their rooms, running frantic, and pushing each other to the ground in order to get out of the building. You didn't see the reason as to why everyone was in such a hurry, but the fact that they were, made you figure that you didn't want to know. Rather, you'd better get out of there.
ROOMMATE: "What's going on out there?!"
[YOU]: "I don't know. But I'm sure I don't want to stay and find out."
