6 years later



I watch as the light from the moon cascades down and reflects off the ocean as I contemplate my options. I could stay at this tranquil beach and enjoy the light breeze brushing against my arms just for a little bit longer and let future me deal with the punishment for being late or I could return home now and subject myself to an extra half and hour in that hell hole.

Feeling sensible, I decide that I should probably go back now. Brushing the sand off my overalls, I call out to Bear who's probably chasing some poor animal in the thick patch of trees behind me. He eventually emerges covered in dirt and sprints his way over to me, "Come on," I beckon as I turn my back to him, making my way to the street.

The subtle gleam from the street lamps illuminate my skin as I make my way through the many back alleys and shortcuts that line the way back home. Home

I can't even call it that. I don't remember how I ended up in the orphanage but I do remember that I've hated every second of it. From the constant noise, to the filthy conditions and the illegal business that takes place behind them walls, it's a miracle that place is even still open.

But what's worse is the people. Our 'carers' who are supposed to looking after us are really just sadistic drug addicts who enjoy seeing us suffer. Thanks to them I've had to mature quicker than I should have. They ripped away my childhood, my innocence.

Distracted by my thoughts, I didn't realise that I'd almost made it back. I turn around expecting to see Bear who never strays off but instead I'm met with the empty pavement. "Bear?" I call out, my voice slightly raised in panic. I'm met with nothing except a few blank stares of some passing pedestrians. "Bear!" I call out louder this time, scanning the area for any sight of his fluffy tail.

I spend the following forty minutes retracing my steps back to the beach. The street becomes darker as I enter areas that aren't illuminated by street light. The uneasiness from being in the dark and the panic from losing Bear was about to send me into a full blown panic attack when I spot two hind legs and a tail sticking out of a trash can laying on the side of the street.

Immediately I rush over, praying that its Bear and not just some random stray. When I'm met with this adorable face covered in whatever food he was eating from the trash, a wave of relief washes over me. "You almost gave me a heart attack!" I yell at him before leaning over and scratching his belly.

The walk back was filled with me constantly turning around to make sure Bear hadn't gotten distracted by another pile of garbage. Not until I reached the front of the orphanage did it dawn on me, I was late. Very late.

I felt the anxiety rise in my chest as I dug my nails as hard as I could into my palm to try I regain some composure. I finally snapped out of my fear induced trace when my palm started drawing blood. I swiftly ran around the back to where I leave Bear at night, I usually leave him there until everyones asleep before hoisting him through my window which is luckily on the bottom floor.

After giving him a kiss on the four head I return to the front of the Orphanage and just stare at the door, I'm well aware that I'm only making myself more late but I don't have the courage to go in. I know it's going to be bad.

When I enter that building it's like I'm a different person. I don't speak, I don't make eye contact, I just become a timid little girl who's scared of her own shadow. Whereas when I'm outside, when I'm free I'm genuinely myself. The fact that I don't speak and I follow all orders makes it really hard for them to find a reason to punish me so when I do mess up it's ten times as worse.

Finally, I make my way up the rotting wooden steps, ignoring the man leaned against the banister seemingly passed out with a bottle in hand. Despite my best efforts at being quiet, the door loudly creaks as it always does, alerting the three men and one women gathered around the living room. The women has her nose pressed up against the table and is snorting-

Oh. Not only have I come in two hours late but I'm also interrupting their little party.

Calvin, not the worst of the bunch but a close runner up gets up and approaches me. "11.32pm tsk tsk tsk," he says in a mocking tone whilst looking at his watch. "Why are you late?" he demands, dropping any hint of playfulness in his tone. He knows full well that I won't speak so I just stand there looking at the floor.

"Well?" Cyrus interjects from the sofa, now staring at me. "Answer the question!" Calvin screams in my face, grabbing me by the hair and shoving me to the ground. The smell of alcohol flooded my nose as he yelled in my face. "Speak!" he seethed. When I remained silent I received a kick to the stomach, his hard boot colliding with my already bruised torso resulted in me a letting out a small whimper.

I look up to see Calvin laughing manically whilst the others resume getting high as if nothing was happening. Assuming that he'd finished his torment, I move to get up only to be met with Calvins boot colliding with my head. "Who said you could fucking move!" He spat in my face.

The blow to my head must have done some damage because when I opened my eyes the room was spinning and I could barely make out what Calvin was saying.

"You know w- what you always walkin' around here like you're too good for this place," He muttered angrily in between sips of his beer. "Someone needs to teach you a lesson," he said, leaning over and pulling me up by my hair before slamming me down onto the hard oak of the coffee table.





The three of them sat around the sofa injecting drugs into their blood stream in silence, but every few seconds their eyes would dart to Calvin who was relentlessly beating the now unconscious girl. They all silently agreed that he was taking it too far, the drugs and alcohol probably altering his judgement but each of them were unwilling to say anything.

Not only until the girl looked dead, her battered body lying motionless on the floor did Calvin stop, making his way back to the sofa, panting for breath.

After a couple of minutes Alexia suddenly rose from her seat to check for a pulse, fully convinced that the girl was no longer breathing. "I think you've killed her," she muttered, slowly turning to face Calvin.

No longer powered by anger and adrenaline, Calvin's face shifted to one of concern. He didn't care about the girl but her dying would bring the attention of the police which would cause a lot of problems. Calvins made his way over to Darcy, poking her with this foot.

When he received no response he violently shook her shoulders, repeatedly commanding that she wake up. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." he repeated under this breath while grabbing his keys.

"Where are you going?" Questioned Cyrus "I don't know- I don't know," Calvin replied, panicked. "I'll just chuck her outside the hospital" He decided, his voice wavering with uncertainty.

"You can't do that! Do you know how many years in prison we'll all get if they find out you did that to her." Alexia practically screeched, "Yeah and do you know how many we'll get if they find out I murdered her," Calvin gritted, already leaving the front door with Darcy over his shoulder, leaving no room for argument.

Calvin sped down to the hospital, jumped out the drivers seat and practically chucking Darcy's body at the entrance before speeding back off into the night. She was immediately discovered by a nurse who urgently called for help.

She was hooked up to numerous machines, one of which helping her to breathe as multiple broken ribs had resulted in a punctured lung. After tending to her many injuries the doctors had no choice but to put her in a medically induced coma to give her body time to heal.