Chrysalism

Sleeping with both eyes shut was never an option. Not in this hell hole. St. Cadence’s Orphanage was far from being holy. I was abandoned here when I was born, having no recollection on who was the mutt who left me to live a godforsaken life in this place that was supposed to give me shelter. England has its perks; I give you that. Sovereignty gives the orphanage good money for clothes, studies and whatever else we might need until we are eighteen and thrown out on the streets. If we excel in our studies, the top three students get a full scholarship to Oxford University to study whatever we’d like. And I sure as hell will be among those three. ‘Get up, Black. Time for your daily beating section. Best time of my day, watching a hoe like you with your pitiful excuse of a face in the gutter.’

The day after, I was released on strict orders to stay in bed for two weeks, eating nothing but soup and light things not to disturb my stomach. Test results came back and I was good to go... Home.Not feeling pain was good. Fast healing was a plus. Only sister Ophelia knew about my perks, so whenever I got hurt (or someone hurt me) I’d fake pain and put bandages over my bruises so I wouldn’t become a lab rat.Or getting a promotion on my status as a punching bag, Clarissa and her minions would have a blast.The week passed slowly. It was neither cold nor hot. It rained a lot, and it made me happy. I never knew why heavy rain and the sound of thunder made my feelings so at ease. It usually brought people to their knees out of fear, but not me, just looking at the black clouds at the horizon filled with l

I got out of the shower, staring at my finger, as it gradually stopped bleeding, unable to stop thinking about the feeling of an actual cut. My finger burned, even though it was a really small cut, but it had a beating, as if my heart was pumping right there on that tiny opening on my hand. I had my finals beginning in two days, and I'd see my classmates for the first time after Sister Ophelia put me in quarantine, as if I had a deadly virus no one could ever get in touch with, only Theo and her.I spent the last two days of lockdown studying. By the next day, the cut in my finger was done, just the scar was left behind, as all other cuts I suffered throughout my life. I couldn’t pay enough attention to the goddamn books, because the pain I felt was unusual. Have I been misdiagnosed? Was CIP curable? Did that mean that I was going to actually suffer when Clarissa beat me up?

Week was hell. We were done with finals, Shawn’s suicide attempt was the only thing people could talk about and even though everyone that is in here had a sob story, I was the sob story of the week. But I didn’t cry, I couldn’t, even. I felt… numb. Clarissa and Jessica were nowhere to be seen. I didn’t know what to think about it, if it was good I was still alive of if she was researching ways of killing me without leaving traces on the internet. The night before the trip, with my things already packed, Theo and I went to our favorite place: the hill on the back of the castle. It had nothing, but a huge empty field, and grass was mowed that morning, it was perfect to sit there, as we usually did every other day, to stare at the ocean and the beautiful endless horizon, talking about things we’d do once we got out of that place. Graduation party was happening after we got home from Italy. Breathing the summer air and the fresh grass, we sat there in silence for a long time.

Composure, discipline, politeness. Everything the Orphanage has taught me went down the drain as I screamed bloody murder to both women standing in front of me. My body shook, my eyes did not produce tears anymore as hatred consumed every bone in my body. I have dreamt about knowing where I came from for so long, I gave up dreaming about it. My life was empty and pointless, and I embraced the feeling of having being abandoned. That was who I was, for the past seventeen years, a nobody. So, when someone knocks on my door claiming the only adult I trusted was a relative and the fact someone abandoned me ‘had an explanation’ it should be a good one. Or I would be capable of murder. ‘Kyla, you will not talk to her like that! You know better than to curse, than to use those fowl words in front of me! I have kept things from you but that is no excuse...’ Sister Ophelia rose from her seat while giving me a lecture, but I interrupted her, and her face was terrified, as I rising from