There was a girl.
Small and frail, with deep-set eyes that seemed to absorb the dim light of the orphanage. Her tangled hair framed a pale, delicate face, and her presence was as subtle as a whisper in the night.
She was a very lonely girl.
She lived in an orphanage, ignorant of the larger world.
If the heavens had wanted, she would have lived a very peaceful life, filled with love.
But like other children in that gloomy place, the heavens aren't so kind.
The orphanage wasn't a place of refuge; it was a dreary place, where they were fed for a purpose.
None of them would ever know the warmth of a mother's embrace; visitors rarely crossed the threshold, and the silence in the halls was broken only by the shuffling of small feet or muffled sobs in the night.
Children in that dark corner never numbered more than 30. Whenever a new face appeared, another would vanish, swiftly, quietly, as if swallowed by the shadows that lingered in every corner.
