chapter 3
837 Words
One day after school, my cousin suddenly tried to snatch my doll. When I refused, she sat on the floor crying.
My aunt hurried out of the kitchen, hugging my cousin to comfort her.
"Mummy, look! She broke my doll."
The doll in her schoolbag had a broken arm and its hair was badly cut.
My aunt stepped forward and slapped me.
"I feed you, clothe you, and this is how you repay me? By hurting my child?"
That night, my uncle and aunt had a terrible argument. Auntie dragged her suitcase, threatening to leave.
Finally, my uncle approached me with a weary expression and asked gently:
"Chloe, would you like to go to the orphanage?"
Without hesitation, I nodded firmly.
My uncle sighed.
"I'll take you tomorrow."
Truthfully, I knew that if I didn't leave today, my aunt might never return—just as Mum and Dad had abandoned me, leaving my cousin behind too.
I fumbled in my pocket, pulling out three folded stars and a chocolate bar, handing them to my uncle with awkward embarrassment.
"Uncle, thank you for the doll. This is for you."
Grandma once told me never to take things for free, but I had nothing to give—only the chocolate my cousin had casually handed me and the stars I’d folded from scrap paper she'd thrown away.
Early the next morning, Uncle took me to a sweet shop and bought me a large bag of treats before sending me to the orphanage.
"I have to go to work, I can’t go in with you, but I’ll come visit in a few days, all right?"
I nodded and followed an older girl who came to meet me at the door.
I was assigned the bed in the farthest corner. The older girl helped me make it up and told me to rest for a while. Across from me sat a boy, quietly drawing.
I found the object in his hands fascinating and kept staring at it. After a while, he noticed me too.
"Would you like to draw too?"
I remained silent. He held the drawing towards me. It showed two adults and a small child standing together under a tree.
"Who are they?"
He shook his head. I guessed he was drawing his mum and dad.
"Would you like some of this?"
I pulled candy from my snack bag to offer him, but a crowd gathered outside.
"Hey, a new kid! Come on, grab her stuff!"
A chubby little boy pointed at me.
Several kids swarmed over, snatching all my snacks.
Later, I learned he was the orphanage's ringleader.
Whenever the director gave John and me tasty treats or fun toys, he’d lead the charge to snatch them away.
The carers ignored it, and the director certainly didn’t intervene. But I’ve never been one to back down.
Even if they pinned me down and beat me every time, I’d strike back at the first chance I got.
“Here, for you. I got it back.”
John did well in school, and the teacher rewarded him with a box of crayons. Those bullies stole them, but I got them back.
“If they bully you,” I told him, “you have to fight back. Otherwise, they’ll never stop.”
He took the crayons and said earnestly:
"Thank you. I will."
In the days that followed, John and I grew closer. He taught me to read, do sums, draw, and play badminton. He was the first friend I ever had.
At night, hunger gnawed at my stomach, churning acid as I tossed and turned, unable to sleep.
"Eat, quickly."
John slipped quietly from his bed and slipped a cake into my hands.
"Aren't you eating?"
"I've already eaten. This is what I hid away."
I tore the cake in half and offered him one piece.
We chewed slowly, afraid to make the slightest sound.
"What are you eating?!They're stealing food!"
They reported us for stealing, and the caretaker locked us in a dark room for two days without food.
“Steal again,” she said, “and you’re out of here for good.”
From then on, neither of us dared to steal food again.
I remember it was a bright, sunny day when an auntie with permed curls and a tall, thin uncle came in.
They took John by the hand and spoke to him at length.
Finally, she asked him, "Would you like to come home with us? You'll be our child from now on. We'll take good care of you."
I stared at John. He didn't look at me, but nodded. "I'd like that."
It felt like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over my head, stinging deep into my heart.
I walked away silently. Everyone deserves a better life, and so did he. I was happy for him.
Before leaving, he said to me, "I'll come back for you someday."
"This is where I live."
I took the note and bid him farewell.
- Writer
