I don't remember much of my childhood, which in and of itself could be a blessing in disguise. My dreams seem to have blurred fact and fiction, but from what I do recall, a patrol found me covered in blood, barely clinging to life, drifting in and out of consciousness near the remains of what was once my parents. I was three then, and now that I’m turning eighteen, I can barely remember their faces. I often try to force myself to remember my childhood and how I wound up at an odd orphanage, but I am met with an impenetrable wall. I cannot remember the details of my parents’ faces, but I can, however, remember songs that my mother would sing about a fierce princess who would save us all. Growing up, I wished that I were that princess, but that was a destiny not meant for me.As for me, now, I am turning eighteen. I was raised in what I thought was a human orphanage, like many others. I was always picked last for everything and never got adopted. At thirteen, I was an outcast among outc
Last Updated : 2025-10-17 Read more