Episode 4
1249 Words
LORITA:
"Lorita... Lorita... Lorita"... Where are you?
My stepmom calls me when she returns from work. Every day, it's her daily ritual. She's one of the few people who care about me so much. It was late at night.
"Where is your dad? Is he back from work?"
"No, mom," I said with a cold voice. I was hoping he never comes back from work again. I long for a day when I would never set my eyes on my so-called stepfather for all he has done to me. No one deserves to be in so much pain like I have been since I got adopted seven years ago. All I have known is unspeakable pain. I have felt it in his hand.
As I sit alone in the darkness of my room, memories flood back. Memories of the first time I met him, of the harsh words and even harsher actions. I wonder if things will ever change, if I'll ever find solace and peace in this tumultuous life. Each day feels like an eternity, filled with fear and uncertainty. But amidst it all, I hold onto the hope that someday, somehow, things will get better.
According to the Metron in the orphanage home I was brought by two aging couples who said I was left in their farm house by someone they never met. At approximately six months, when proper documentation was done on me.
The orphanage was an austere two-story white-washes building, outskirt of Rome Italy. In the poorer section of the city, off the Plaza de Santo Vincente. It was run by Avila bethina, an sss of a woman, with a fierce manner that bellied the warmth she felt towards her wards.
According to her, I looked different from other kids, I was a young adult, full of life. But yet felt different in the sense that I did not belong to this world. I needed to experience more of life. I felt so abandoned by the people I love the most. I spent my whole nights wishing my parents would come and take me back.
I was fiercely independent child, a leader, I was a young adult who stood on her own. Who crave for adventure. I tried escaping so many times from the orphanage. But anytime I make for the run, I was caught. It dented on my reputation as a baby. No one wanted to have me as their child,because they felt I was too obstinate and over wise for my age. The foster parents kept away from me because they felt I would not make a good company for their kids. But that was opposite the case. I was a young loving child. I cared for my friends I made in t orphanage home.
They were the best thing that kept me going, we often told stories about how we are the children of presidents, actors, doctors and so on. We believed it so much with hope that our parents one day would come looking for us. Time passed, season changed. I watched my friends I grew up in the orphanage home being adopted amdv I was not given the same treatment. I got scared. Maybe destined to stay here. I started hanging out with boys in the orphanage. I popped my cherry to Pablo Toledo. It was a painful one to behold at fourteen years of age. He was fifteen years.
As I witnessed Pablo being welcomed into the embrace of a military family, a profound sense of solitude enveloped me once more. He had been my rock, my confidant, my sole source of companionship within the confines of the orphanage home. With his departure, the emptiness that followed felt cavernous, amplifying the ache of my isolation.
His absence served as a stark reminder of the precariousness of my circumstances. I couldn't shake the nagging fear that if I didn't adhere to the expectations set by the orphanage authorities, I would face expulsion once I reached the threshold of adulthood.
The prospect of being cast adrift into the world without the familiar sanctuary of the orphanage walls filled me with a palpable sense of dread.
I understood the importance of navigating the complex dynamics of life within the orphanage with caution, striking a delicate balance between asserting my independence and complying with the rules laid out before me. The uncertainty of what lay ahead loomed ominously, casting a shadow over my daily existence. Yet, amidst the uncertainty, a glimmer of hope persisted—a hope that, against all odds, I might one day find a place where I truly belonged.
On my sixteen birthday, I was called to order to a surprise visit that I am being adopted by a family. Mr and Mrs Tiger. I said to myself this is freedom. We'll. Who would have known that it would be worse than the orphanage home.
"mom, what are we having for dinner, is papa going to be available?", I asked hoping he never come back this night.
"of course, Lorita, why do you keep asking if papa is going to come back all the time?, do you miss him?"
I wish I did, I wish he gets hit by the bus, and his body is not found. But again I can't do anything about it. When he comes back it would be worse for me as usual. What can I do. If I refuse he will kill me as he has always said.
We made dinner, I sat on the couch after I had mine. My foster mom,she sleeps very early after hard work day she works in the hospital, seven hours shift everyday, why mister Tiger we don't really know what he does. He gets the visitors every day. They Come visiting after every Sunday meeting. They head to the bar or they merry at home.
A blistering sound of horn and neon bright light hit our windows glass. I went to check who came back and it is papa. My heart skipped. I became frantic. As usual I had to show the cordial relationship with him so he won't get mad at me.
He drives an SUV Mercedes Benz. Fancy sport cars and he has security men following him everywhere l always wondered how a man could be so rich and yet his wife is doing menial jobs and I don't have money. Mr and Mrs Tiger have failed to produce a son or child for themselves. I guess that has always been his pain, and why he never showed interest in Mrs Tiger wellbeing.
"Welcome papa" I said from afar and trembling.
In his brass and harsh voice
"how are you doing Lorita"
I felt trembling as usual. I became stiff due to the horrors of the night was approaching and I could not do anything about it.
Mr Tiger had his meal he went to bed.
As I got into my sheets to have my sleep, few hours later I heard a knock on my door, I began to tremble, I was scared of reliving the horrors again, somehow seeing that young handsome gentleman taking a liking in me. Sprouted some sort of value for myself and I understood that I am worth so much more. The knocked persisted and kept increasing gently. I tip-toed to the door and opened it, before my very eyes Mr Tiger was Naked.
"Get in bed Lorita"..
He said to me in a harsh it soft voice of pleasure.
- Writer
