19 days.
I keep count. 19 days till we can get out of this place. I keep one eye on the clock that hangs on the old wall of this run down lounge room, and make sure I can still see Isabelle in the corner with the headless Barbies.
I look around and notice the whole right near the entry to walk into the lounge room. I shudder remembering how that whole appeared in the wall. Just remembering it makes me look at Isabelle to make sure she is alright.
It became a habit of mine. To look and make sure that Isabelle is safe and out of harm’s way. After what happened to Isabelle, I never forgave myself for what happened to her. Even though I was fourteen at the time I could have done something to prevent it from happening.
I could hear a faint ringing in my ear and realise it was the dinner bell. Standing up from the rickety chair I walk over to Isabelle and grab her hand. We walk past the hole in the wall and my protectiveness takes over and moves Isabelle to the other side of me.
We walk in to the, what’s suppose to be a dining room which is instead and empty room with a long table and chairs. We sit down and are handed our food. A slice of bread with butter and a small bowl of soup.
It wasn’t the greatest food out there but it was something. We get 3 meals a day which isn’t all that bad. We usually get a sandwich for lunch and 1 slice of toast for breakfast, with either butter or jam, that’s always out of date and for dinner a small bowl of soup.
Isabelle usually complains about the food but I tell her to be thankful for what she is given even though deep down I agree with her. We all look up as we hear the door being opened again.
It is Mrs Whitlock. Oh no. This is bad. After Robert had left (the abusive Orphanage worker/owner) Mrs Whitlock took over. I have to say, I thought this would have been great. To a new start for all the kids at the orphanage but I was and the rest of the orphanage kids were mistaken. She has been worse than Robert. Funnily enough, she was Robert’s sister.
I take most of the blows in the orphanage because of me being the oldest of the kids being under fifteen years old. I have had my hair pulled so much my whole head went numb. I have had internal bruises. I have scars all over my stomach and some on my legs but mostly burns on my legs. But she is sneaky. Because after five thirty when the rest of the stuff go home that’s when all hell breaks loose.
She always gets me after dinner or before dinner which is about five forty five or six twenty. She would drag me into the kitchen while everyone pretends not to notice what’s happening in the next room over.
I felt a sharp pain go through my scalp and realised it was the she devil. I instantly get up and look down at Chloe to make sure she is distracting Isabelle from what Mrs Whitlock is doing to her older sister.
Mrs Whitlock drags me out of the room and doesn’t give a second glance to the others kids who are trying to distract the youngest of them all, Isabelle. I look back to remember all the kids i the orphanage because I never know what is going to happen to me in the room.
I look at the innocence faces of all the 8,9,10 years looking at me with dread and fear clouded in their eyes. Then I look at the older girls, that are 12, 13, 14 years old. Eyes clouded with fear and appreciation. I have been told by some of the older girls how much they appreciate what I do for them. How I volunteered as the person to be hurt.
I look away from them and see that we are almost at the kitchen.
*VIOLENCE STARTING*
We enter the kitchen and I am thrown to the stainless steel bench top that is in the middle of the kitchen. Having been thrown into the corner it pierces slightly in to my skin. I could feel a little trickle of blood run done my long slim torso.
A small whimper comes out of my mouth as I use the bench to pull myself up. For a very skinny lady she sure is very strong. I look up and notice a thin, bony hand coming in contact to my jaw. That is definitely going to bruise.
I had stumbled backwards and leaned on the bench once again. I looked up and noticed Mrs Whitlock coming closer. She yanks my hair and whispered in my ear.
“Don’t think you getting off to easily” She said in her manly voice” I know that you have been telling the other girls lies about me. Like I’m not pretty and I’m not nice, you FUCKING WHORE!”
I spit blood from my mouth in to her face.
“How could I have been lying when everything is true?”
She looked at me in a disgusted face and dropped me to the ground. She kicked me in the ribs and stomped on my hand that was laying on the ground next to me. I winced in pain. I had that coming. Mrs Whitlock spat in my face and stomped on my already bruising hand and kicked me in the ribs one more time.
*VIOLENCE HAS STOPPED*
I groaned in pain and let a tear slip down and hit the floor. Letting my guard down I carefully pulled my legs and brought them up to my now bruised and bleeding stomach.
A few more tears slipped out of my eyes as I lay there. But one thing is still stuck in my mind as I quickly drift off into the darkness...
19 more days.
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