Cast Out
1180 Words
The rain came down harder now, icy drops pelting Talia’s shoulders and running in rivulets down her neck. Her clothes clung damp to her skin, and her shoes squelched in the mud. She raised her fist and knocked on the heavy orphanage door, each rap sounding louder in her chest than in the quiet storm.
For a moment, there was nothing but silence. No voices, no movement, just the hiss of rainfall and the distant crack of thunder rolling behind the clouds.
Then came the sharp, deliberate click of heels. Talia’s stomach tightened.
The door swung open, revealing the headmistress. Her thin mouth curved into something that looked like a smile, though it never touched her cold, pitiless eyes. Behind her, the dim glow of the hall lamps revealed several children huddled together, some peeking around corners, others pressed back into the shadows. A few older ones smirked, anticipation glinting in their eyes.
“Well,” the headmistress said softly, almost too sweetly. “Look who finally decided to return.”
Talia lowered her gaze. “I’m sorry, Headmistress. I—”
“Inside.” The woman’s voice cracked like a whip.
Talia obeyed, stepping in quickly as the door slammed shut behind her. The sound echoed through the entryway, final and ominous.
⸻
The headmistress stepped closer, her perfume cloying, her presence suffocating. “Do you know what time it is, Talia?”
Talia opened her mouth, but the words stumbled out awkwardly. “I… I lost track. The storm—”
“The storm?” the woman sneered. “Or was it the boy? The one you sneak away to see? Do you think I don’t notice? Do you think you can parade around like you’re something special?”
Children whispered at the edges of the hall. A few tittered nervously. Others shrank back, heads down, terrified to be caught looking.
Talia’s cheeks burned. “He’s my friend. That’s all.”
The headmistress’s expression twisted, sharp with mockery. “Friend.” She spat the word like it was poison. “Pathetic little orphan girls don’t get friends. They get charity. And yet you repay mine with lies and disobedience.”
“I’m not—”
The slap came before she could finish, a sharp crack against her cheek that sent her stumbling sideways. Gasps echoed from the children. A few laughed—short, cruel snickers that made her chest ache worse than the sting of the blow.
⸻
“Ungrateful wretch,” the headmistress hissed. She seized Talia’s hair and yanked, dragging her down until she was kneeling on the cold floor. Pain shot across her scalp, tears welling at the corners of her eyes.
“I—please—”
A boot connected with her ribs, stealing the air from her lungs. She folded inward, gasping. The laughter grew louder in one corner of the hallway, and she recognized the voices—older boys, always eager to please the headmistress.
But beyond them, the others—little ones with wide, frightened eyes—stood frozen. Some looked away, others covered their ears.
⸻
Pain blurred into memory.
She was eleven again, sneaking into the kitchen after lights-out, frosting a tiny cake with her trembling hands. The joy of surprising Kade on his birthday lasted only minutes before the headmistress found her. The punishment: three days locked in the cellar. No light, one glass of water, stale bread turning moldy by the second night. Her body had been weak, but her spirit had burned hot with shame and anger.
Another flash—kneeling on gravel, tiny stones embedding into her skin until her knees bled. Children walked by, pointing, whispering, sometimes throwing pebbles to make her flinch.
Another—sitting at dinner, her plate empty while the headmistress declared she didn’t deserve to eat. The others laughed that night too, their laughter hollow with fear of becoming the next target.
⸻
The headmistress’s hand jerked her back to the present, fingers digging cruelly into her jaw, forcing her face up.
“Look at you,” the woman hissed. “Always thinking you’re different. Always sneaking away, dreaming of something better. Let me remind you, Talia—you are nothing. You will always be nothing.”
Her grip loosened only to backhand her again. Stars danced in Talia’s vision.
“Please,” Talia croaked, coughing as pain flared in her ribs. “I’ll do better. I swear.”
The headmistress laughed, a chilling sound. “Do better? No. You’re finished.”
She ripped Talia’s small satchel from her shoulder, spilling its pitiful contents onto the floor: a comb, a threadbare handkerchief.
⸻
The children shifted uneasily. One of the little girls whimpered, covering her face. Another boy took a step forward, then froze when the headmistress’s eyes snapped to him. The moment passed, and the hall went silent again.
The headmistress leaned close, her breath hot and sour against Talia’s ear. “You will not disgrace me, or this house, another day. Get out.”
Talia froze. “What? Please—where would I go?”
“Not my concern.”
The older boys were only too eager to obey when she ordered, “Remove her.”
Hands clamped down on Talia’s arms, dragging her across the hall. She struggled weakly, ribs aching, head swimming. “No—please, don’t—”
They ignored her. The front door groaned open, and a rush of wet night air slammed against her face.
“Never show your face here again,” the headmistress’s voice cut through the storm. “You are no longer welcome.”
With a final shove, they threw her out into the mud.
⸻
Talia landed hard on her knees, palms scraping against gravel. Rain soaked her instantly, plastering her hair to her face. She spun, reaching desperately for the door, but it slammed shut. The iron bolts clanged into place.
She was locked out.
The windows glowed faintly behind the rain, silhouettes shifting in the lamplight. None of them moved to open the door. None of them came to help.
Talia’s chest rose and fell in ragged sobs. She pressed her fists into the mud, trembling, broken. She had no access to safety or anyone to contact.
The storm raged louder, thunder cracking overhead. Lightning split the sky in jagged white, illuminating her figure—small, shivering, alone.
She sank to her knees fully, the cold rain masking the hot sting of tears.
And in that hollow, endless night, with nothing but the storm to hold her, Talia realized she had truly been cast out of every place she had ever belonged.
⸻
The storm roared around her, wind and rain tearing at her, but Talia stayed on her knees, drenched and shivering, staring at the darkened building behind her. The door was shut. The windows were silent. The world she had known — her home, her friends, her safety — had vanished in an instant.
And in the hollow, endless night, only one thing remained: the storm, and the terrible weight of having nowhere to go.
- Writer
