3 - Manon’s POV

I was eight when the Order took me.

They didn't do it by force. They didn't abduct me like a thief in the night from my comfy bed as my parents slept soundly, unaware of what was happening to their child, no. At that time, I had no parents.

My employers legally adopted me from an orphanage.

That was one of the last days I was truly happy.

I remembered the preemptive joy on all adoption days, one only a few children would get to keep. We knew that, and yet.

I'd been through a year of weekly disappointments and every week took me farther and farther away from my dream home. It was no secret the younger children were first pickings and the older you got, the more parents had no need for you.

That too didn't stop me from looking forward to it

with all the optimism of a child.

The day I got adopted was seared in my mind.

It was rainy, so much so that we thought no one would come today. I kept my best shirt on even after the headmistress sent us off to our rooms, praying that God would pause the rain, at least long enough to give me this week's chance at a new life.

God must have heard my prayer, because he answered it. The clouds parted, letting weak sun rays shine through.

I think I would have been better off if the Almighty hadn't heard me that day.

But at the time, I whooped and hollered as quietly as I could when the headmistress called us back to the waiting room, and I took my assigned chair tucked in front of a plant. A palm tree it was called, a dwarf one. I've always wanted to see how big they could get because that one was already much taller than I was. Which wasn't hard, a lot of the children were taller than I was.

Then I waited, conserving my energy.

The fire that took my parents didn't leave me unscathed. They tried to explain it to me; that the smoke damaged my lungs and the debris I was found underneath would worry my joints and nervous system for a long, long time.

All I really understood is that I would have to sit down a lot.

So I sat and waited, even as the rain that had fallen brought a cold that settled deep into my bones.

The doorbell rang and out of the shadowed sky, walked an angel of a couple. They came in, hand in hand wearing wool coats, of navy and pink, smiling wide as they gave the other children's sweets.

Then they saw me, mid contemplating if I could stand up to get candy from the nice couple. I loved candy so I was going to try.

But before I could, the woman went over to talk to the headmistress in the room and the man came up to me bringing my candy.

“Thank you,” I said. We were always told to be polite.

“You're welcome. Why aren't you playing with the other kids?”

Even though I badly wanted to because I didn't want to chase away a couple who might be interested in me away, we were also told not to lie. I sighed, looking over his bright eyes to where his wife was still in conversation with the headmistress. “I can’t run for long, and sometimes, when it's cold I can't run at all and then I have to lay in bed for a while.”

“Is that it?”

The way he said that made perk me up, like he was expecting worse, like that didn't put him off from me. “Yes sir.”

He smiled and patted me on the head gently. Then he went to join his wife.

An hour later, after saying goodbye to the other kids, I was on my way to my new home.

I could scarcely believe it all the way there. Even after they'd shown me my room and I'd slept in it, it felt flimsy, like a dream I would wake up from.

When I woke up the next morning, to see my feet still in the slpiiers they'd given me, I knelt down and prayed.

They were very good to me, reminding me of my life before that stupid fire. They smiled when I was around, asked me that I wanted to have for breakfast and let me— wanted me to, even — sleep early.

And two months later, when I'd begun to accept my new life, I was abducted from the yard as I played.

I trashed and screamed, visions of me being stolen from this picture-perfect life lending me a strength I usually didn't have.

That was the last time I saw that house again, the last time I saw my room, my toys, everything. I hadn't even gotten to call them Dad and Mom yet.

I did see my foster parents again, however, when I was sixteen and I was tasked with killing my first targets.

They were my first.