Page 5 of Taken By Sin

I tilt my head down, knowing I shouldn't be asking this. "Aren't I leaving today?"

The question doesn't seem to faze her, as she lifts her gloved hand. "Your exit doesn't change the chores, Miss Finley."

I feel like complaining and sulking about my 'exit' not being voluntary. Leaving isn't what I want; this place has always been my home. Despite the strict rules and the punishmentsthat come with them, the knowledge of an unknown vast world beyond these iron gates terrifies me.

She sashays down the hall, ignoring me.

Chores have always been a part of our lives, which is acceptable. In a communal living situation, everyone needs to pitch in. However, when I turned eighteen, things changed, and I was given double the workload. The sisters kindly allowed me to stay... until today.

But I have nowhere to go, no experience with work, so how will I get a job?

I start with the list immediately: first is bathroom duty. Maybe this is a good thing, to keep my idle mind from racing in thought.

The tile floors are covered in shadows, which makes it harder to clean. I wish I could rip open some curtains, but our restroom contains one solitary window that's shaded by thick trees.

As I spray the cleaner on my reflection, I wipe it down, seeking insight into myself. Where will I go, and what awaits me? My dull black hair frames my pale blue eyes and golden skin. Even though I'm rarely outside, my skin maintains a warm glow.

I take a moment to observe my reflection, realizing this is the final time I'll see it in this mirror, the last moment I'll scrub this dim bathroom. As I switch off the light and pull the door shut, I'm uncertain if I should feel relieved or just... sad.

I sweep through the house, cleaning the foyer and floors, the tearoom and halls.

I smile at the girls who pass by, but I maintain my distance,unable to form relationships any longer. It seems the moment we grow close, they get adopted.

I'm happy for them, but as they go, I'm all alone again.

That's how it's always been, though.

There’s no particular reason for why I've never been given a family, no bad record as to why no one chose me for adoption when I was younger.

Simply put, no one wanted me.

I had no time to be a bad kid, I was brought here when I was four months old and raised by nuns.

I think about my parents. What made them drop me off? Or was it someone else I was in the care of, a grandparent, a guardian? A lot of girls come in from Child Protective Services.

Perhaps my parents are still out there. They may have been poor and desired a better life for me. Still, I feel deep resentment for whoever brought me to this orphanage every day.

It's the only darkness I harbor, but I allow light to fill my soul.

The thought gives me pause, and my head whirls.

I leave the sponge on the ground, waiting until I hear the absence of footsteps pattering down the hall. Then I trek down the stone stairs, into the basement of answers.

This thought has crossed my mind a few times this past week, and with it being my last day here, I'm going to do something I've wanted to do for my entire life.

Something I was too scared of following through with, too worried about the repercussions I would receive at the hands of the sisters for breaking into their office.

I, like every other girl who has come through this orphanage, have been curious to see our folders.

A quick peek into my earlier years, no matter how small, is more than I know now.

I slip off my shoes, anxious that the black leather soles might reveal my location. The dim corridor is silent, and I press myself against the wall. I fear that my racing heart will give way to my first act of true rebellion, but what do I have to lose?

I tried this when I was ten, and I got as far as I am now. I didn't know it was bad to be curious, but when Sister Catherine found me, she made sure to pop my hand and bring out the ruler to punish me for my crimes.

She looked at my teary eyes filled with questions and before she sent me to my room, she gave me one piece of advice: It's better to make your own truth in your mind.

I hope in this instance, in my case, that the truth can set me free.

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