The feeling of being rejected by people who were supposed to love you is worse than hunger.
I was born into it.
Or at least, that's what I've been told.
My name is Taya Zarah. I'm twenty years old, and I live in an orphanage that smells like bleach, old prayers, and secrets no one talks about.
They say my parents left me on a wooden bench outside the church gates. No note. No explanation. Just a crying baby wrapped in a thin blanket.
Sometimes I wonder if that story is even true.
"Stop staring into space!"
The voice came before the slap.
Sister Perry's palm met my cheek with a sharp crack. The sound echoed down the hallway, louder than the morning bell. My skin burned instantly.
"You call yourself a hard working girl and you can't even finish washing plates?" she snapped.
"I'm sorry, Sister," I whispered.
Sorry. I say that word a lot.
She leaned closer, her breath smelling of bitter coffee. "Don't just stand there. Move."
I swallowed whatever pride I had left and returned to the sink. The cold water stung the bruise forming on my face.
No one said anything. No one ever does.
In this orphanage, silence survives longer than people.
They say I'm possessed.
They say demons live in my eyes.
They say I'm stubborn.
All I ever do is cry.
Even when I reported Sister Perry to Father Michael, the parish priest, he only sprinkled holy water on my head and told me to pray harder. And said a little prayer
"Every negative energy roaming in my office, get out," he said loudly, as if I were the spirit and not the girl standing in front of him.
After that day, I stopped expecting help.
Aria is different.
She's been my friend for three years. She brings provisions from time to time — soap, snacks, sometimes even money. No one knows where she gets them from.
When I ask about her case, she just smiles.
That smile makes me curious.
She once told me she was the only child of her parents.
So why is she here?
Sometimes I think Aria isn't really an orphan.
Sometimes I think she's undercover.
She travels. She disappears. She returns like nothing happened.
And then there's Father Michael.
I once saw sister perry leaving his quarters late at night.
She said she was rubbing ointment on his back. When she was questioned cause I was with sister Catherine when we saw her
Maybe she was.
Maybe she wasn't.
In this place, nothing is ever what it seems.
I don't even know my real birthday.
The date written in the records? Sister Catherine(sister Catherine is my god mother she's very loving and caring)picked it randomly.
"What does it matter?" she once said. "You're here now."
What a life.
I don't blame anyone anymore.
Or maybe I blame everyone.
The girls whisper about Sister Perry behind her back. They call her a bully. They say she's too close to Father Michael.
But they whisper.
They are afraid.
We are all afraid.
Except Aria.
Aria never looks afraid.
And that scares me the most