Chapter 3

The orphanage wasn't a home-it was a war zone. Every day felt like surviving the trenches, and I was just another pawn on the battlefield.

From the moment I woke up, Sister Agnes was already waiting. Her presence was like an oppressive shadow that followed every inch of me. It didn't matter how much I tried, I couldn't escape it.

I stood in line with the others, my feet cold against the concrete floor, my stomach tight from hunger. The others, with their wide, empty eyes, didn't even look at me. They had their own battles, their own fears. But the whispers always came, and the reason was simple: I stood out.

I didn't look like the rest of them. Even in this world where beauty meant nothing, my face had caught the eye of Sister Agnes-and that meant trouble.

"Get those hands off your hips, Iris," she snapped, her voice sharp like the crack of a whip.

I stiffened, straightening up quickly. The others avoided looking in my direction, careful not to draw attention. Sister Agnes was always searching for someone to pick on, and today, it seemed it was my turn. Again.

Her boots clicked with purpose across the room as she stepped closer. I braced myself, knowing there was no use trying to talk my way out of it. The others were smart-too smart. They had learned long ago that saying anything could make things worse.

"You think you're special?" Sister Agnes asked, her voice calm but full of venom. She towered over me, her eyes scanning my face like she was deciding where to start tearing me apart. "The other girls might be able to hide under the radar, but not you. No, you had to show up here with your pretty face and get everyone in trouble."

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my breath steady as my hands balled into fists at my sides. That was it, wasn't it? Sister Agnes hated the way I looked. She hated that I caught attention, even though it was the last thing I ever asked for.

"I was looking the other way when you first came here," she continued, her voice lowering, icy and dangerous. "But the longer I have to stare at you, the more I realize you need to be taught a lesson. Everyone else here-" She paused, glancing around the room, watching the others cringe away from me, "they have been molded into good, obedient girls. But you..."

Her fingers twitched. The tension in the room was so thick, it choked me.

I braced myself as she raised her hand. A loud slap echoed through the hall as she slapped the book I was holding out of my hand. It flew to the side with a crash, and I could already feel the heat of a stinging, humiliating tear trickling down my cheek. But this was a daily occurrence, and at this point, I knew better than to fight back.

"You don't even deserve to sit at a table with the others," she spat. Her hands gripped my arms like iron, pulling me towards the nearest corner, where the others wouldn't dare approach. "Maybe you'll learn to stay out of trouble if you're isolated long enough."

I took the punishment without a word, the humiliation burning through me like fire. The other girls avoided even the smallest eye contact. If they had any empathy, it wasn't worth it. Empathy would get them punished too, and that meant silence.

Eventually, Sister Agnes pulled away from me with one last glance. Her lip curled. "Get back to work."

The cold stare in her eyes as I limped to the workbench said it all: she wasn't done with me. She'd never be done with me. Not until I was broken and alone in ways that could never be fixed.

As I huddled in my corner, the heavy weight of everyone's stares pressing against my back, I could feel a shift. Not just from them, but from something inside me.

Something sharp, painful, that told me everything was only just starting. I wasn't just going to be one more name in the ever-expanding list of girls who let the orphanage grind them down.

But I wasn't foolish either. In this place, standing out meant pain.

So, I chose to keep quiet. To obey. To shut myself off.

Every part of me burned to push back. But I was too smart to show that. In this world, staying hidden was my only means of survival.

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