Reincarnation was an odd thing to experience. Despite me remembering everything of my last life, the first few years of my new life are a blur. At around five years I started to recall old memories and think like an adult again.

I'm proud to say I hid my true nature well from Mama and Sister Susan. It wasn't easy to act five. Mimicking the other children didn't feel right, and I was confused about everything happening. There was hardly anytime I could be alone to process my grief.

Life as a child was okay. I didn't have to do many chores and the schoolwork was easy. But when I started to Remember, I knew something was wrong.

My home is an orphanage called Glory Bell. There are only two caregivers managing forty children ranging from one to twelve years old. Now that doesn't sound too bad on the surface. The only problem you would think of is that the caregivers would be too over worked, but they manage everything fine. They even do better at raising children than most parents who only have a single child.

However, there are several oddities about Glory Bell.

To start off, the house doesn't have a TV, computer, or phone even though they do exist. The orphanage library has books showing modern technology. The caregivers explain this away by saying our funding is low. I can understand not having a TV, but why no phone. That should be considered a necessity. What if there's an emergency and we need to call for help.

It feels like I've gone back in time. The lack of devices isn't the only thing that gives this place the feel of the nineteenth century. The architecture and furniture look Victorian and even the uniforms the children and staff wear are old fashioned. Hack, we even still use things like quills and oil lanterns. I've never heard of an orphanage being like this in the modern day.

Another odd thing is that the only adults were these two women. No other adult came around to visit or help the orphanage. No postal worker comes to deliver mail. There are no neighbors or mentions of a town. Around the house is nothing but woodlands.

Then there was the fact that we never got to leave the grounds. The children are homeschooled, but it still made no sense that our caregivers would never take us out on trips. The only time a child left was when they were getting adopted, which was also odd. Why would a child be adopted out without first meeting their new adopted family to see if they were a good match? I do not know much about the foster care system in my last life, but I'm sure it wasn't anything like this set up.

The tattoos are the most glaring sign Glory Bell was not a normal orphanage. History lessons taught me that the people branding children tended to not have the child's best interests in mind.

My mind whirled around trying to think of logical explanations.

Maybe I was born in a different country that had different rules for foster care. That would also explain the lack of modern technology. The country could be underdeveloped and be ruled by an oppressive government. That would have been the best case scenario.

There is another possibility that made me feel sick. The orphanage could be a cover for child trafficking. The children around me might be for sell to the highest bidder and I could only imagine the disgusting things their "adopted" family would do to them.

The trafficking theory became more likely every day. Adopted children never tried to get back in contact with us even though they all say they would write letters or try to visit. The other children are sad they never hear from them again, but oddly they hardly question why. Mama and Sister say they must be so happy with their new family that they don't have time to write. The children never think they might be lying.

And really, I couldn't blame them for believing in Mama and Susan. Both are the best caregivers I have ever met. They know the right thing to say when soothing upset children. Their cooking skills could rival Gordon Ramsay and any broken toy would be mended to mint condition. There wasn't any subject they couldn't teach to the children whether it be math, English, science, or anything else. Not only that but they could multitask with coordination befitting a military unit.

It's almost inhuman at how good they are at being mother figures.

If it wasn't for the tattoos on our stomachs, then even I might have fallen for their act.

MRP2D7

That is the tattoo branded on my lower stomach. Sister Susan told me they are identification marks. I asked why we needed them, and her answer was that as newborns we were put up for adoption and to keep track of all the different children the adoption center would put these symbols on us. I didn't like that answer, but I can see why that would be enough of an explanation for the others. So I didn't question her further.

There are holes in my trafficking theory. I've noticed a pattern with the children getting sent away. The ones who don't get good grades are "adopted" earlier. We start taking tests at age five. If the five year old makes bad scores during the first few months of schooling, then they leave. As the children advances the needed scores increase. The oldest child I've seen was a thirteen year old girl named Joy. She made perfect scores eight times out of ten.

To keep the children from noticing the pattern, Mama only announces who made the best scores. Once a month she'll hand out report cards on test scores, so the kids know how well they do, but she'll take them back afterwards claiming she needs them for record keeping. I only noticed the pattern because of Joy. I overheard some older children say how rare it is for a child to stay here as long as Joy, so I tried to see what set her apart from the others. Although Joy was very smart, she still got sent away at thirteen and half years old.

Needless to say, I made sure to keep high marks after figuring that out.

Why would our grades matter for child traffickers? I couldn't think of any explanation for it.

As I watched and theorized, a nagging feeling kept coming to me. Something about this situation was familiar. But for some reason I didn't know why that was for a long time.

Then during my seventh year it came to me.

It's free period meaning the children can pick what they want to do. Most of them are outside playing kickball. They love playing outside, so almost anytime they could go outside they would do so.

I on the other hand like to be alone during my free time. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a loner even though my siblings claim so. It's just that I can't act like a child all day. I need time to myself, so I don't have to wear this fake mask of a seven year old girl.

The library is the best place to relax and think. Hardly anyone comes here during our free period. I also need to do research on my new world and these books might hold some clues. I must be careful though. Mama and Sister Susan will check up on me and I can't have them see me reading books meant for older children. Have to keep appearances up after all.

Like with rest of the house, the library could easy be used as a filming location for a movie set during Queen Victoria's time. It has two levels. First level has a setting area with four tables, a coach, coffee table and four armchairs. It also has several bookshelves. You can see the second level from the setting area. A spiral staircase is the only way to get up there. The upper space doesn't have any furniture, just bookshelves lining the walls.

The only other room that's bigger than the library would be the dinning room. The area is big enough to be someone's high-end apartment. The walls are made to be bookshelves and there are no widows to let natural light in. It does have a crystal chandelier and some other smaller lights that brighten the room enough to read.

In my last life, having a library like this was one of my dreams. Honestly, if I could then I would spend all my time in here, but Mama is insistent that I socialize with the children. I don't want to rebel against them on this since they might have me sent away sooner even if my test scores are high. Can't have problem children who might get the others to act out as well. So at the most I can only stay in here for three hours a day.

The vintage coach is my favorite spot, not just because of how comfortable it is. There are two large pillows that I always lay down on with a blanket covering most of my body. Using the blanket, I hide the book I'm reading, and I have a decoy book hidden under one of the pillows. If anyone comes here to check on me, I switch the books. The coach happens to be the easiest setting space to hide the books.

Today, I'm reading an adventure book that would be an appropriate choice for a girl my age. For me to use decoys, I need books that I've actually read. If Mama or Susan get suspicious, they could ask what the book is about and if I answer wrong then my cover would be blown.

Also, I do still like reading books meant for young children. It's a good story that I know I would have loved reading as a child. The plot is about a mistreated boy training to become the best knight in his village. It reminds me of the "Naruto" manga.

Unfortunately, the Glory Bell Library did not have any manga or comics. I stop reading for a moment to think back to the manga and anime series I loved. The memories are now bittersweet.

Never did finish "Attack on Titans." Even if the library had manga, there's no way Mama would allow that brutal series to be read by her children. What was the last series I read again? Oh yeah It was "The Promised Neverland."

Then it hit me; turns out I wasn't too off the mark on the children being sold theory. I just was wrong on who bought them and what they do to them.


Notes: I'm thinking of taking the first chapter down, since I don't like how I had it in third person and this chapter is in first person. I know there isn't a rule that says you can't change POV, but I'm not sure if it worked well enough in this instance. It also doesn't help that the first chapter takes places years later. Let me know what you guys think. If I don't take it down then I might still rewrite it to make it flow better with this chapter.