The Orphanage

This is a story about an event that happened about 2 years ago. This changed my way of looking at life and I will never, EVER trust anybody in the world ever again.

It firsts starts out with about 2 and a half years ago. I was 10 years old and my parents died. I was sitting on my bed minding my own business when I got a phone call on my phone. It was Mercy Hospital saying that my mom and dad got in a car accident and they were in critical condition. They’re going to die soon. I couldn’t get there in time so I never got to say goodbye to my parents. I had 2 sisters, one was 14, and one was 18. Ava (the 14 year old), was put in a women’s shelter downtown. My other sister, Ariana (the 18 year old), had her own apartment but didn’t have enough money or space for me and Ava to move in. So I was in St. Jude’s Orphanage. I was all alone and I had no one. I had a lot of friends at my school and I was the “popular” type girl. I was only 10 so remember, I wasn’t the smartest girl.

The first night at the orphanage was nerve-racking. We all had our individual room and the room was padded all over (don’t know why). We had bars on the side of the room revealing the room next to us just in case we wanted to communicate with the people next to us. We were let out of our rooms at a certain time of day, the morning. When we came back from school, we had to go directly back to our room, do our homework, let back out again for dinner, and then back to bed in the room. We all had these pajama type outfit and we all matched. It had black and white stripes all over them.

One day, I started hearing someone calling my name. I was sitting in my room and nobody was next door or in front of the main door. It sounded dark and deep and hollow. All I heard was, “Emmmmaaaaaaaa…” That’s all I heard. Nothing else. Just my name. What did they want? I replied with, “Hello? Who are you?” It just kept saying my name. IT WOULDN’T STOP. I just couldn’t deal with it anymore. I felt a presence almost like creeping up my back. Still chanting my name but instead getting louder every second. “Eemmmmmaaaaaa,” they were still calling my name. WHAT DID THEY WANT. “EEEEEEMMMMMAAAAAAAA!” I screamed. The guards came running over.

“Oh no, she’s doing it again,” they said.

“What do you mean? I’m doing it again? You guys are the ones trying to ‘treat me’ of my ‘illness’. What the f**k is wrong with YOU guys!?” If I haven’t mentioned this already, the guards, they are keeping me in this asylum and I can’t ever be free. I can’t ever be F R E E.


I am not in an asylum. I am not crazy. The people keeping me here are crazy. Yeah. That’s right. THEY ARE THE CRAZY ONES.