The Last Step

Elfina’s Perspective – Age 6

12/9/2006

The orphanage was quiet tonight.

I hugged my knees on the stiff medic room bed, pulling them tight to my chest like they could keep the sadness in. Like they could stop it from dripping out of my eyes again.

I was pretending to be sick.

Again.

I didn’t want to go back to the other kids... not tonight... not ever.

The lights were off, but the window was cracked open. Cold air touched my cheeks, and I looked out at the stars. They twinkled, like they were trying to smile. Like they didn’t know I’d forgotten how.

A tiny whimper escaped my lips as another tear slid down my nose.

I don’t cry loud anymore. I just... let them fall.

My name is Elfina. I’m six.

I live here now. In a place where people leave, and no one says sorry.