The car ride was a tedious and long journey. It was also a tense and silent one. No matter how many times I had struggled to retrieve an answer of our destination, my two brother's kept up their charade and awkwardly shrugged off the question. Looking back, I should have realised something was up, but how does a four-year-old mind comprehend the matters of complex adults? The hesitant walk up the untidy garden path was no better. Trikes, toy blocks and odd bits and pieces littered the clean-cut lawn: a tell-tale sign children inhabited the rickety house. I still remember that day so clearly. I can't forget, but for years I have been pushing it to the back of my mind, forcing it to stay trapped in a facade of blurry memories. Sam's grip on me had been tight.
The elderly woman who greeted us donned an apron covered in unknown muck and food. Grey hair clasped in a bun and soft wrinkles lined her pudgy face. Reminiscing, nothing about Matron had changed. During the encounter and the exchange of hushed words between Sam and her, I was more focused on the dozens of children I could see racing past in diapers, squealing and clinging onto pacifiers, and bottles. Such an exotic and strangely homely environment compared to my relatively unusual lifestyle. "Danny?" Sam's gentle voice dragged me out of my reverie. He kneeled down and gripped my hands in one of his. "Dean and I, we're going to leave you here for tonight."
Upon the distress suddenly marring my face, Sam quickly continued. "It's just for one night. We have some business we need to take care of. Can you do this?" I still recall his soft voice, wavering with each sentence. Sam's usually bright hazel eyes were dull and welling with unshed tears. It had struck me as bizarre. "No!" I'd clung to Sam as though he were a life ring - my only device to stop me from drowning in an array of uncontrollable emotions and harsh memories."It's just one night. I'll collect you tomorrow. While you're here, you can play games, paint, and do jigsaws with kids your own age." he reassured. Sam squeezed my hand and brushed away the stray hairs floating in front of my eyes. I didn't want them to leave. Not like Mommy and Daddy left me. "No! Stay!" I cried and butted my head on his shoulder.
Matron had stood quietly nearby, patiently waiting out the last time I'd see my brother - unbeknownst to me at the time. "Don't cry. Look. I got you something." Sam pried himself away from me and from his shirt pocket, withdrew a fine silver chain with a little locket hanging on the end. I stared in awe, my grief and worry temporarily forgotten. "There's a picture of us inside. You can wear it and you won't be sad anymore." Sam explained and reached around to fix it on my neck. I plucked at it and fiddled with the locket until it sprung open. Inside, a minute photo of me in Dean's arms and Sam on my side was revealed. Dean's 'baby' was our seat and despite all the torment we had endured, smiles were plastered on our faces. "I'll see you tomorrow. You be good, Danny." I found my face assaulted with Sam's kisses. "Love you." he whispered and rose back to his full height.
Before the true realisation that I was to be left with this large woman in a house filled with rowdy kids hit me, Matron had taken my hand and was encouraging me to wave "bye-bye". With a last watery glance, Sam took shotgun in Dean's car. Not a minute was wasted before the engine revved and they tore off out of the driveway and down the street. The smell of fumes and the feeling of helplessness was all that filled me. I hadn't finished waving before Matron lead me inside. Our car had already disappeared into the distance by then. That was the last time I saw my brothers. It's surprising what you remember when you're young. I guess bad memories have a way of lingering with you.
When the anticipated time of my brother's arrival came, I was so excited, I kept needing to go to the toilet. Matron was always there, trying to pull me way from the front window to 'help' her make dinner, or play with the other children. Now at my age, I realise her sole and good-intentioned purpose for doing so. I reluctantly left the window at six to half-heartedly eat dinner, always straining an ear to hear the deep rumble of the Impala. Bedtime soon came and while the others were jumping on beds upstairs so the floorboards creaked, I was slumped by the window, near exhaustion, but still waiting. That night was the worst.
Worse then the disappearance of my parents. Worse, because I knew my brothers had abandoned me. I just didn't want to believe it. I went to sleep with a heavy heart. For the next week, I sat hopefully at the window. It soon became a place everyone knew where to find me. Not even the introduction to a new child could distract me. Then, nearing the tenth day of being brother-less, I stopped. I simply stopped caring, waiting, hoping. It had all been in vain. They were finally free from the burden I was.
Matron all the while was still there an using a firm and kind strictness, persuading me to eat when I was too upset to try. She forced me to mingle with the girls and play dollies like a 'good little girl'. She even went as far as giving me an extra scoop of ice-cream during meal time to cheer me up. A loving soul, Matron is, but still all her efforts failed to distract me. At the age of nine, the period I became rather rebellious and difficult, I managed to sneak into Matron's office and catch a glimpse at my file. Labelled clearly on a thumbed piece of paper was written: "Dannielle Winchester has seemingly erased memories of her family from her mind…she no longer waits by the window…"
That's exactly what I did. A sponge wiped a clean slate of my brain and became anew. I no longer had any family. As far as I'm concerned, I was given up to Matron at birth and have no family. So, here I am. Eleven years later, fifteen years old and meandering through my uneventful, pitiful life. Despite it all, the locket still hangs from my neck.
