Chapter 1
Oritheme scrubbed the filthy tiles of the orphanage's only bathroom in silence. Dirt filled the edges of each tile like the dirty fingernails of a construction worker. She dipped the sponge into the bucket of soapy water before heading for the bathtub. "Pick it up, Oritheme, we haven't got all day here. The man will be in a few minutes, and I want this place spotless!" A knock is heard from the door. In the distance, she can heard the mistress ushering in the guest with much pleasure. She sighed. It had been five years, five she had spent living in this dump of a place. At the mere age of seven, Oritheme had been whisked away from her family in the up skirts of Thailand and abandoned at the orphanage. Since then, she had become the main maid of the place, scrubbing, cleaning and rubbing away at the building's past.
Before becoming an orphanage, it was originally a hospital of the elderly and ill. People from all over the region came for the finest treatment they could find all for free. The grandfather of the head mistress had been the founder of the hospital. He had believed that everyone even poor should be able to afford health care. Sadly, the government had thought differently and shut him down. But for the few months it had been open, the hospital had many splashes of liquid everywhere. What had always interested Oritheme was that every stain had a story. Maybe a child was born or maybe someone had just escaped death by a few centimeters. You never did know.
A bell rang, making her jump. "Children!!" yelled the headmistress, "A man has come to chose one of you to be his new daughter. Line up please." The running of children was heard throughout the two-story building. It was what happened every time a person came to adopt. All of the kids would go crazy, thinking this would be the day, the day they got to leave. But this visitor was particularly special. He was an American, a person from the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave, as they call themselves. Oritheme felt sorry for the children. The feeling of hope, the hope to belong was in each of their hearts, she knew it. And then when the person looked at you, looked into your eyes and saw the hope and then passed you by like a rotten piece of fruit. All but one of them would feel like that in a few minutes. As for her, she had given up hope a long time ago. It's not worth, she thought, to have that feeling and then be squashed. Not worth the world.
She walked to the end of the line in the lobby, and looked at the American with little interest. He had simple brown pants, a white shirt and a worn out brown jacket. Brown hair was combed to the back of his head and his hands were in his pockets. "This is Mr. Matthew Brown and he will chose one of you to take to the United States!" the mistress looked very perky. Not a surprise, thought Oritheme, she wants to get rid of us. Matthew, which she figured was in his 20s, and then looked down the line of children. His eyes passed each one like nothing except one. Oritheme. She stared straight back. "That one." He said, pointing to her with a crooked finger,
She was furious. How dare he point at me! Like he's at one of those supermarkets where you get to choose the fish you buy! "Alright children, back to work. And you" The mistress looked at Oritheme. "Go pack." Oritheme walked to her room, located in the back of the house and started to put all her belongings in a suitcase of hers. She glanced at each one as she did so. Pants, shirt, pants, skirt, pants, more shirts, another shirt, pants, locket. She stopped at the locket. The only thing valuable that she owned. She had received as a birthday gift from her father. Her real father. Her mother had passed on that year due to cancer and he had wanted to give her something special. Even after she was whisked away, torn from him, she kept it. In it was a picture of her father smiling. Mesmerized for a couple more seconds, she put it on.
Oritheme then headed back to the lobby and entered the headmistress's office. "There you are, Matthew. Oritheme is all yours." She swallowed hard. Why does she make it sound like my death sentence? Mr. Brown looked at her in awe. "Well, come on then, don't you want leave?" Oritheme paused, "A little." He chuckled, "Then let's go." As he pulled her rather forcefully into the car, she took one last look at the orphanage. He closed the door of the car. Memories ran though her head like mice running for cheese. When she arrived and the reason seemed like light years away from the present day. The car drove off.