1.
As I fastened my ribbons on my scars, I gazed at myself in the bathroom mirror. Instead of seeing my hideous wrinkled face, I saw a youthful, adorable little girl. My golden blonde hair was curled and my green eyes shimmered like crystals.
I smiled at the mask of"Mercedes" or Mercy for short, I could never bear to look at my true self. I hummed sweetly to myself as I put layers of makeup on my face. Makeup is such a magical tool for me. It hides my wrinkles and aging skin. It masked Alanna Petrov, a twenty nine year old woman inching towards her thirties. Mercy's age is frozen at eight. My life was cursed with two disorders that affected my life. On the day of my birth, I was diagnosed with a chromosomal disorder called Turner syndrome. My disorder was visible with my swollen feet and hands at birth. My Mother and Father doted over me as a small child. They provided me proper hormonal therapy and treatments to help me grow and flourish. Then eventually my life went to shit when I was later diagnosed with hypopituitarism. Another disorder that stunted my growth to make me look like a little girl.
The loud sounds of meandering children echoed through the hallways of the Orphanage. Their laughter and giggles filled me with both annoyance and envy. They reminded me of myself, when I was innocent and youthful. I preferred solitude, in my free time, I would open my journal and look at my keepsakes I hid in the pages. I didn't feel like coming out the bathroom just yet, there was no need in worrying about someone barging in, I was always smart and locked the door. My routine at this Orphanage was straightforward and fit well into "Mercy"'s schedule. The time me and the children would be woken was early at six, but I always managed to get up at the crack of five to hurry to the bathroom with my bag of possessions in hand. Once I'm in the bathroom, I paint my face, wrap up my deformed breast with white gauze, wrap up my scars with the ribbons, brush my teeth, and wash and dry my hair. Normal eight year old girl stuff.
Pretending to be a child is difficult and emotionally draining sometime, Mercy's entire character is a sweet tempered, timid, girl who seeks friendship and love from a family who would cherish her. Poor little Mercy, the sweet orphan that was abused and mistreated by many. The little girl everyone adored and wanted to comfort. I've been playing Mercy for long that there were times when I would forget who I truly was. I always act like a cordial, friendly child to avoid suspection, I force myself to play and mingle with the other children. Being by myself gives me time to think. I would think about my past. I giggled amused at my memories. "I wonder what people would think if they knew the true "me."" I whispered. I write my story in this journal, I personally believe I have a photographic memory, I never forget anything. Everything that happened to me in my chaotic life was unforgettable and haunts me day and night. I had a another journal, a journal full of dark secrets and misery. But it ended up getting destroyed by accident before I came here from my previous family. I unlocked the door and scrolled out the bathroom and into the quiet art room. I sat at a small table nearby a window and I began to write down my memories in my spare time.