His to ruin, Mine to love

Sera POV “Tell me, what did your mother look like?” A harmless question. However, it hits harder than it should have. Little Emily sat across the table, her tiny hands stained with crayon over her messy half colored sketchbook. She blinked up at me, her innocent big blue eyes filled with curiosity. If only she knew. I wanted to answer. I really did. But that was one of the numerous questions I have no answer to. My mouth opened on its own, then closed. What did she really look like? Just blank. My memories couldn't process any image. It was embarrassing, and shameful. Even the only piece of memoir I have - an old photograph, creased at the edges, half burned from maybe a fire is now gone too. Maybe it got lost from one of the numerous room changes, maybe I mistakenly threw it out with other trash, but it's all gone. All I had now were flashes. Fleeting in minutes, and blurred. Not even something to hold on to. A beautiful display of dentitions caught in the late afternoon sunlight The lullaby hummed softly from the kitchen. Bedtime stories that sounded real. A gentle arm wrapping me in its warmth, assuring me all was well. “I…don't remember”, I whispered, ashamed of what my final answer is. “I think she had blonde hair like mine or maybe brown. I don't really know anymore.” “Emily, you should go play with little Molly now.” Sister Nadia's voice came before the little girl could give back her response. In her eyes, shows curiosity. Maybe, this is what I needed at the moment…a distraction from Emily's questions. “It’s exactly 10 years today. You don't remember that night, do you? The fire.” Sister Nadia spoke in a low voice some minutes after Emily's walking step faded away, indicating her absence. Her voice, barely more than a whisper, and tone ripped through me like a scream. I froze halfway through folding the laundry, a shirt slipping from my fingers to the cold floor. The fire. They were real. Even though I still find them hazy, I vividly remember smoke. I couldn't even tell anyone I wake up some nights, choking on smoke that I thought didn't exist - they really did. “No,” I finally said, not turning to face her for the fear of the message her expression would convey. “Only flashes. Smoke. A girl's voice. Running. Then I paused. “A gunshot.” Sister Nadia exhaled loudly yet so slowly which alone thickens the tension. “You were only eight. The mind forgets what it can't handle.” “But I want to remember” picking up the shirt again to fold blindly. “I need to” this was barely a whisper. She didn't respond. As usual. I didn't need her response anymore. The silence between us tells that she remembers all, knows everything more than anyone else. She always had. I stood up from the chair and looked out the cracked window of the small laundry room. The sky, gray, that even the blind could tell the promise of another storm. Saint Evelyn's Orphanage always looked more haunted everytime it wanted to rain. And this is my…home. It has always been. For 10 years now, as far as my memory shows me. I watched children running around the yard, laughing like the world had never hurt them. I used to envy that a lot. Maybe there was a time I smiled like them too. Maybe I once skidded around a different yard too or even a playground. Maybe. Just maybe. It's two months to my eighteenth birthday. Yet, I have no memory of what my life looked like before eight. Just a name which I wasn't sure if it is really mine. Sometimes, I imagined being someone else entirely. A girl with a real family preparing for her coming of age ceremony, someone who could talk about her past without embarrassment, a college student with a scholarship and even a first…love. But I have a reality far from these. A seventeen years old with no legal guardian, living in Saint Evelyn's Orphanage with Sister Nadia as my only confidant and motherly figure. Even though she is so secretive about a lot of things that I believe are connected to my past, she never fails to remind me that I am different from others through words and actions. I remember times when there were parents looking forward to adopting me. Sister Nadia would tell them “That one is different, she isn't to be taken away from here.” I guess the difference is in what only her knows. My past. My lost memories. Still, I plan for freedom like a soldier preparing for war. I had saved every penny I earned from weekend chores for the nuns and every freebie given during the regular charity visitations. Just a few more weeks, and I will be out of here. Out of this b*****e presenting itself as a safe place. Out to find myself… who I really am. A knock echoed from the other side disturbing my trail of thoughts. So sharp, measure. Like one passing a secret message. I caught a little action from Sister Nadia, even though it's barely noticeable, she flinched. “You are expecting someone” It rolled out more like a sentence than a question. “No,” she murmured, her face saying otherwise. “Stay here, while I check”. And with that, she was gone. As soon as I ascertained that she had gone far from the laundry, I crept down the hall after her, making sure my feet made no sound that could alarm even an insect. I stopped behind a huge pillar just when I noticed Sister Nadia opening the front doors. And there in the dark, on the porch was…a man. Tall. All dressed in black. Startling eyes that looked like they had seen enough. Thin lips that might have never smiled in decades. He handed her something. A large brown paper bag. Maybe containing a document. However,not the regular orphanage documents. Sister Nadia's eye flickered towards the hallway and I hid back behind the huge pillar that could swallow me up. My heart pounded like it would jump out. Something about that man is off. Who is he? What affiliation does he have with the orphanage or should I say with Sister Nadia? I heard the sound of the doors being shut. When I peeked out again, he was gone. My eyes fell on Sister Nadia looking at the content in her hand intently and a look passed across her eyes. Just in a second and it was gone like it never came. Pity or regret? I can't tell. “Wren,” she softly breathed out that I would have missed if I wasn't reading her lips. And deep inside me, something stirred. Not for joy but fear of the numerous secrets Sister Nadia holds.