New home | Chenle

1. Orphanage

The walls around me absorbed everything: colour, sound, happiness... It's as though everywhere I wander in this dismal institution, I am encased in a dark, tenebrous fog. Filling every inch of the orphanage, thick and oppressive and potently bleak. I've lived a lifetime of small box bedrooms and paper thin mattresses, and today, on the 17th of January, it all ends.

As banal as they may be, this place holds a lifetime of memories, from the day I was admitted, to well today, the day I leave. It feels strange to imagine that I'll never spend another afternoon here. Never sit through another sloppy meal prepared by the exceptionally untalented, yet awfully lovely kitchen ladies. Never wake up to the squeaking of flimsy metal beds and rusty springs.

I've always dreamed of having my own room; there would be a big window overlooking a pretty lake and rolling hills, as a dappled light would fill my room with it's cheerful grace. There would be a small dance studio where I could spend my days moving to the sound of my beloved music. Or libraries filled with books in which would be eloquent and substantial, brimming with delectable words, such as sempiternal and forelsket and sesquipedalian. I could choose the colour of the walls - a beautiful raven egg blue - and I would have the softest most cosy bed.

For years I have been thinking about the day of my escape, but now that it's finally here, I am suddenly unsure. A whirlwind of emotions floods my mind, and suddenly I am a small fish struggling to swim in a raging sea. I've never had the tender love of a mother, or the comfort and protection of a father. Could this be the beginning of a new chapter, one brimming with smiles and happiness and a real family? Or could all of my glorious expectations come crashing down around my ears? What if they don't like me? What if I don't like them? Could this all just be one big mistake?

I do my best to swallow the fear bubbling in my stomach and attempt to direct my focus onto other things. I clean my teeth and brush my mouse-brown hair, which almost never behaves. I put on my prettiest dress, which really isn't all that pretty, and pack the few belongings i own into my tattered suitcase. A thumb dictionary, a few humble items of clothing, a notebook crammed with my poems and stories, and one plastic-wrapped sweet. It isn't much, but for now it's enough.

I make my way to the dining room for one last meal. I thank the cooks as I collect my tray (this morning's breakfast filled with an array of dry bacon and shrivelled up eggs) and take my usual seat with Leilani, my one and only friend. I'm devastated to leave her, she's all I've ever had. Luckily Leilani had been promised a new home with a kinda and wealthy family, just next month, so at least I know she'll be happy. As for my new family, I know little to nothing at all. I pick up my egg with a fork and plonk it on Leilani's plate - she's awfully slim, and needs more fattening up than I do. She smiles briefly, however her eyes are clouded, and I fear she 's been crying.

"Lani, please don't be upset. It won't be long and you'll have a family of your own too, and we can write and tell each other about the wonderful adventures we're yet to have!" I struggle to cheer her up, but it's evident my attempts are to no avail; a fat tear wobbles at her waterline, before plummeting down her soft ivory cheeks. In an instant I'm out of my seat, my arms wrapping themselves around Leilani's neck and my head burrows in her soft red hair. I promised myself I wouldn't cry, but right now it seems like the right thing to do. This is the end of a chapter in my life, and a valediction is only necessary.