Semua Bab MISTRESS OF THE GAME: Bab 101 - Bab 110

MARIE:THROWN AWAY.Crumbs looked like a mop that had forgotten how to be soft. His eyes were uneven now. One had fallen off weeks ago when I was hiding under the table during a loud fight. I told him I’d fix it soon, but I didn’t know how. Still, he listened better than anyone else.I pressed him close to my chest and whispered, “Mummy hasn’t done my hair in so long. It hurts to brush it now.”I didn’t like the way my hair felt anymore. It was always tangled, always itchy. Mummy used to sit me between her legs, humming, as she twisted and braided it with soft fingers and pink beads. Now, her hands trembled too much. Now, she barely looked at me. She looked through me, past me like I wasn’t there, like I was just part of the furniture.Mummy’s face was different too. Her cheeks didn’t shine, her eyes didn’t sparkle. Her mouth was always pulled down like she’d tasted something sour.I didn’t know what I had done wrong, but I always felt like it was my fault. And maybe it was. Maybe if

REJECTEDMARIEAt first, I thought my eyes were lying. The way light plays tricks when you're too hungry, too tired. But the more I stared at her, the more I knew it was really her. Mommy.She stood just a few feet away, in the aisle where they kept shiny fruits and loud plastic bags. Her scarf was crooked. Her face looked thinner than before. She was reaching for a can, checking its price, putting it back. Like everything was normal. Like she hadn’t left me.I didn’t think. My legs moved before my thoughts did. I ran.“Mommy!”She turned slowly. Her eyes blinked, like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Then they changed. They filled with something I couldn’t name, something between fear and guilt and… sadness.“Marie,” she whispered.I crashed into her, wrapping my arms around her waist. I didn’t care that people were looking. I didn’t care that she smelled different, like floor soap and old clothes. I just pressed my face into her side and held on tight.“I looked for you,” I

MARIE:The Girl with Big EyesI stared at the ceiling until the bell rang again.This time, the sound didn’t feel like a warning. It was soft, almost like a whisper that said, “Get up.” So, I did.The woman from earlier came back with a clipboard and a different smile. Less kind. More tired. She didn’t speak to me, just motioned with her head. I followed her, Crumbs pressed to my chest like a shield.We walked down a long hallway filled with doors. Some were open, others closed. Children’s voices floated out from one, music from another. I kept my eyes low.She stopped in front of a door with peeling blue paint and tapped it with her knuckles.“Here,” she said.The room inside was small and shared. Two beds. One dresser. A window with thin curtains. On the far bed sat a girl about my age, maybe a little older. She was hugging her knees, watching me with eyes too big for her face.I didn’t say anything. I just stepped in and stood by the door.“This is Marie,” the woman said, glancing

MARIE:Girls Like UsSome girls in Lockwood cried for days. Others didn’t speak at all. But a few girls like us we didn’t do either. We watched.We sat in corners. We walked behind crowds. We kept our heads down and our ears open.We learned not to flinch when the matron raised her voice. We learned what face to wear when she gave out punishment like candy. We learned how to survive with no softness left.Sheila and I didn’t call each other friends. We just… stuck close. She was sharper than me, faster. When we played games outside, she always won. When we were inside, reading old books or cleaning the halls, she would find ways to finish faster and sneak into the storage room to steal something small, like a candy or a hair clip. One time, a pair of socks that didn’t itch.She gave them to me.“They’re soft,” she said, shrugging. “You sleep cold.”I never said thank you. I just wore them every night until the heels wore thin and the softness vanished. And still, I folded them and put

MARIE:YEARS IN THE SHADOWSTime doesn’t pass the same way when every day looks like the one before. There’s no calendar on the wall at Lockwood. Only routines; wake, clean, eat, work, sleep, repeat.I stopped waiting for anyone to come for me. That’s how I survived.By twelve, my legs were longer. My face had changed. One of the girls said I looked older than I should. I didn’t know what that meant. I only knew that when I passed mirrors, I barely recognized the girl looking back.She had dark circles under her eyes and lips that didn’t smile anymore. I learned how to disappear inside myself.I got good at blending in. Keeping my head down. Keeping my thoughts secret. Because thoughts were dangerous in a place like this. It felt like if I think too loudly, someone might hear it, if I hope too brightly, someone might crush it.The hallway near the bathroom had a crack in the wall. That crack became my spot. After dinner, after lights out, when everyone else fell into restless sleep, I