"I was curious. Couldn't really rely on adults to tell me the answers, could I?"
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄. Complex and beautiful in nature, yet quite fragile. It is malleable, constantly evolving and adapting to the infl...
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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 ZERO ( MISS ALVERBY'S HOME FOR YOUTH! )
THERE WAS NO GOD TO SAVE THEM, the worthless prayers for salvation fell to deaf ears. It was a privilege to still believe, because that only meant you had hope. And hope was a dangerous thing.
The twins had lived at the orphanage for exactly ten and a half years, being witness to tragedies and brief moments of happiness alike. They've seen children come and go, happily trekking off to their new family, only for them to be left in the dust. Hope was for the naive and innocent. However, hope made its way into the heart of the twins on three different occasions.
MARCH 1989
The first time, hope came in the form of a slammed door and a shattered window. The nine year old boy shook in fear, his eyes never left the uneven floorboards as they squealed with each unforgiving step Miss Alverby took towards him.
"M-Miss Alverby... I― I swear I didn't," he stuttered.
He didn't slam the door shut, he swore it swung closed on its own. Despite his festering anguish, Albert wouldn't have dared to. Did he? No, of course he didn't. His stomach lurched at the harsh glare of the seemingly sweet middle-aged woman.
"You foolish child! How dare you talk back to me, after everything I have provided for you."
He knew better than to argue while the woman was intoxicated. The overwhelming smell of vodka and cigarettes filled the living room. She grasped the collar of his shirt, drawing her hand back. The sound of impact resonated throughout the house. Her rings cutting his cheek before Albert managed to dislodge himself from her grip.
"You ungrateful little— if it weren't for me, you and your sister would have been dead! Just like your good-for-nothing parents."
Beatrice Alverby looked like a bumblebee, however she was arguably more synonymous to a yellow jacket. A plump woman with thin, curly hair and unloving eyes, hated the Park twins. Her yellow overcoat donned with daisies was a laughable contrast to her dark and unkind demeanor. The once loving matron slowly turned into a sadistic monster that looked down on the same children she swore to protect.
Miss Alverby's Home for Youth, on 87 Austero Avenue, put up a facade of familial love and acceptance only to be a place of desolation. The orphanage felt more and more suffocating as the years went by. A toe was not to be stepped out of line. The older children began to take care of the young, making sure that they didn't whine and screech about precarious things that would set the woman off. The woman's sharp tongue was unbearable, her words cutting much deeper than the physical lacerations. Though, that wasn't much better.
