door, whipping it open and yanking Millie’s body out by her malnourished arm. “Answer me when I speak to ye’, ye’ filthy ingrate!” her breath stung the dry corners of Millie’s freshly crying eyes. Sister Olga shook her a few times and repeated herself, but louder and with more vigor, “WHY?”
“I—,” the little Millie squeaked while being interrupted by a cough, “I don’t know, ma’am…” she trailed her pupils away from the Grim Reaper-esque woman, deathly afraid of meeting her eyes after such a lie.
Sister Olga clicked her tongue and shook her head disapprovingly, “Now what did I tell you about lying, child?” Her grasp tightened and her fingernails broke Millie’s skin. “Don’t make me hurt ye’, child.” She raised a filthy arm of droopy skin and knobby bone, but before she could smack the usual five or six swipes across Millie’s round face, another woman rushed in the room and halted the occurrence.
“Stop eet! She is just a child!” Baba yelped, running over to the two that were squatted uncomfortably on the squeaky floorboards.
Sister Olga made a scoffing noise, “Ye’ think I don’t already know tha’?” She threw Millie onto the floor like a sack of rotten potatoes. Somehow, Baba had an undetectable influence on the other Sisters at the orphanage. Millie liked to think it was because she was the only teacher with a heart. The other kids swapped stories—theories—of why this was. The most popular one that Millie always heard about was that Baba was secretly the orphanage children’s Guardian Angel and was in possession of the other Sisters’ souls; they conspired that Baba would only give their souls back if she caught them being good to the children. Millie was never sure if this was the truth or not, but nothing else seemed to make sense, so why not?
Millie’s eyes somehow found new tears to cry as she lay scattered on the itchy ground with scrapes now painting her right side. Baba waddled over in her fluffy skirt that made her look even bigger and kinder and knelt next to Millie, scooping up Millie’s face in her wrinkled hands, staring into her eyes with her emerald ovals.
“Are you all righ’ sweetheart?” she cooed. Millie sniffed and wiped stray snot with the back of her lanky wrist. She smiled and wrapped her tiny arms around Baba. She closed her eyelids so tightly that she saw stars popping all over, but she didn’t care: Baba saved her again. She squeezed herself against Baba’s cushiony bosom and listened to her humming the lullaby that always melted the monsters away. Life always meant something when Baba was around; it was a safe place to be. Then the humming stopped.
“Guess what, ma’ dear?” Baba asked in a gentle whisper. Millie rolled her head upwards to look into the emeralds that glimmered above the lines of laughter and love that outlined Baba’s face. “There’s someone here for you.” Millie’s eyebrows raised and her insides twisted in ways she never thought they could. Should she be excited? Should she be nervous?
Then came in a man.
He lurked in the shadows and seemed to become one with them. He stepped closer and closer until Millie’s insides seemed caught up in a knot in her throat.
He stopped.
Her looked at her and curled up his crooked mouth into a grin.
“He’s here to adopt you,” Baba said, stroking the back of Millie’s long golden hair. “And he’s from America!” Her voice seemed to fluctuate in the way Millie felt on the inside, but Millie didn’t seem so sure.
“That’s right,” came the man’s itchy voice. He held out a hand. It seemed normal, but Millie still didn’t feel right taking it. She looked at Baba and prayed deeply that she wouldn’t make her go. Baba seemed to hear it; she
“I—,” the little Millie squeaked while being interrupted by a cough, “I don’t know, ma’am…” she trailed her pupils away from the Grim Reaper-esque woman, deathly afraid of meeting her eyes after such a lie.
Sister Olga clicked her tongue and shook her head disapprovingly, “Now what did I tell you about lying, child?” Her grasp tightened and her fingernails broke Millie’s skin. “Don’t make me hurt ye’, child.” She raised a filthy arm of droopy skin and knobby bone, but before she could smack the usual five or six swipes across Millie’s round face, another woman rushed in the room and halted the occurrence.
“Stop eet! She is just a child!” Baba yelped, running over to the two that were squatted uncomfortably on the squeaky floorboards.
Sister Olga made a scoffing noise, “Ye’ think I don’t already know tha’?” She threw Millie onto the floor like a sack of rotten potatoes. Somehow, Baba had an undetectable influence on the other Sisters at the orphanage. Millie liked to think it was because she was the only teacher with a heart. The other kids swapped stories—theories—of why this was. The most popular one that Millie always heard about was that Baba was secretly the orphanage children’s Guardian Angel and was in possession of the other Sisters’ souls; they conspired that Baba would only give their souls back if she caught them being good to the children. Millie was never sure if this was the truth or not, but nothing else seemed to make sense, so why not?
Millie’s eyes somehow found new tears to cry as she lay scattered on the itchy ground with scrapes now painting her right side. Baba waddled over in her fluffy skirt that made her look even bigger and kinder and knelt next to Millie, scooping up Millie’s face in her wrinkled hands, staring into her eyes with her emerald ovals.
“Are you all righ’ sweetheart?” she cooed. Millie sniffed and wiped stray snot with the back of her lanky wrist. She smiled and wrapped her tiny arms around Baba. She closed her eyelids so tightly that she saw stars popping all over, but she didn’t care: Baba saved her again. She squeezed herself against Baba’s cushiony bosom and listened to her humming the lullaby that always melted the monsters away. Life always meant something when Baba was around; it was a safe place to be. Then the humming stopped.
“Guess what, ma’ dear?” Baba asked in a gentle whisper. Millie rolled her head upwards to look into the emeralds that glimmered above the lines of laughter and love that outlined Baba’s face. “There’s someone here for you.” Millie’s eyebrows raised and her insides twisted in ways she never thought they could. Should she be excited? Should she be nervous?
Then came in a man.
He lurked in the shadows and seemed to become one with them. He stepped closer and closer until Millie’s insides seemed caught up in a knot in her throat.
He stopped.
Her looked at her and curled up his crooked mouth into a grin.
“He’s here to adopt you,” Baba said, stroking the back of Millie’s long golden hair. “And he’s from America!” Her voice seemed to fluctuate in the way Millie felt on the inside, but Millie didn’t seem so sure.
“That’s right,” came the man’s itchy voice. He held out a hand. It seemed normal, but Millie still didn’t feel right taking it. She looked at Baba and prayed deeply that she wouldn’t make her go. Baba seemed to hear it; she
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