Let's Escape Together *BOOK 1*

|48294| Conny

The lady they fondly call 'Mom' is not their mom. The children they live with are not their siblings. This is Grace-Field House, an orphanage. And they're all orphans... or so they thought. At six o'clock sharp, the House begins its day with the ringing of the bell.

CLANG

CLANG

CLANG

"Everyone, wake up!" a cheerful voice arose the many children in the room, "you're gonna be late for breakfast!"

Groans ensued from the younger ones as Azalea whined, holding her pillow over her head, grunting as her bed began to shake. She peeked out from under the cushion and yelped as the covers were yanked off her. She glared up at the culprit to see the orange-haired girl with a pout on her face.

"Emma!"

"Get up, Azalea!" she chirped, "we're gonna be late for breakfast!"

She reached out and gripped the corner, tossing it to the other side of the room, making grabbing motions with her hands. She eventually gave up, sighing as Gilda gave her a soft smile, turning around to yell at the children to get ready.

Azalea was was of the eldest out of the 39 kids who lived there, and she was extremely overprotective of the children, picking up Yvette with a small smile as she passed a dark-skinned, slim boy who raised a hand in salutation, his other hand guiding a small blonde girl whose arms wrapped around a plush bunny.

"Morning Don, Conny, Little Bunny," she waved, entering the dining hall and setting the girl down, watching Thoma and Lannion shove Emma and smirk widely, claiming that she was 'it' and she was to 'come and get them'. Her hair covered her eyes as she turned around, chasing after them.

"Looks like they're at it again," groaned Gilda as she entered, almost stumbling over as they brushed past her.

"Not a day goes by when they're running around like idiots," agreed Azalea. Their personalities, ages and colours of their skin all differed; they were not related by blood but she loved them all.

"Mowning Norman! Mowning Ray!"

"Morning, Emma," Norman grinned.

"Mowning, Emma," snickered Ray, grinning at her.

"Why are you so energetic, we haven't even had breakfast yet," Norman smiled.

"The literal definition of Emma is energy," snorted Azalea.

"How old are you, again? Five?" Ray questioned in disbelief, hiding a small smile, carrying the mugs to the tables.

"Hey!" she yelled indignantly, "I'm 11, same as you guys! I thought you guys were meant to be on my side!"

"Sorry, Em," apologised the girl, though she didn't sound sorry at all, pointing discreetly to a woman who was standing off to the side, "look, even Mom's laughing."

"Emma, can you give me a hand over here?" questioned the said woman, stifling her laughter.

"But I wanna redo my entrance!" whined the girl.

"So childish," Ray scowled, sliding into the seat next to her.

"Why? I love that about you," blinked Mom.

"That I'm five on the inside?!"

"No, that you care deeply about your family," she stroked the girl's cheek lovingly, taking her aback for a moment before she grinned.

Azalea loved Mom. She loved everyone. Even if they're not related by blood, they were her family. This orphanage was their home. Everything here was normal to her. She never doubted that for the ten years that she had been there. That was their ordinary daily life.