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A failure. That's what you are. Nothing more, nothing less.
If you were as good as you claim you are, you wouldn't be stuck here with mediocres. You wouldn't be stuck here with them.
Yet—why are you still here, Xu?
For her entire life, 9 long, and lonely years, those were the only words that stuck with her, the only words that drove her insane for self-improvement. They echoed every quiet second; they lingered in her messy mind each time she tried to think clearly, and worst of all, they pulled her down to the very bottom pit of not only her heart but it also rewired her brain to think she's not good enough. She's never good enough, and to her, that was the truth.
"I'm good enough. I swear! I'll prove myself to all of you!" Xu yelled at the top of her lungs, as if she truly believed her own yawp. "I'll prove it...I'll prove that I'm better than this, and you'll regret ever throwing me away! You'll regret everything, everything, I tell you!"
Cries echoed through the empty room; there was no furniture, no walls, nothing. It was pitch black, and a taunting voice that echoed all over, along with her cries of ugly hatred towards herself. This must be a dream—a nightmare. It surely is, Xu could only hope it is.
The taunting voice muttered once again. It was a quiet whisper, but for Xu, it was as loud as a deadly striking thunder. "Are you aware of what you're telling yourself? If so, do you actually believe in it?"
The voice teased once again, followed by a disturbing laugh that repeated all over, draining Xu's ears to the point she couldn't even hear her own heartbeat—the overlapping laughs grew colder and sharper. Who are you?! No, a human could never express this much malice in a singular sound... This is inhumane. This is disgusting...
“They abandoned you, Xu. Why can't you see that? They're not coming back, not now, not later, not ever.” The voice was distorted, that wobbly feeling Xu nor anyone else could grasp. It sent chills down Xu's whole entire still body.
Xu, with her slim, shaky, and unstable hands, clutched her chest, squeezing it tightly as if trying to hold onto something—her consciousness? Her life? Her soul.
‘Why can't I breathe?’
‘Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop.’
“Xu.”
Shut up.
“It's not your fault.”
Shut up.
Shut up.
“Not all people deserve to be parents.”
Shut up.
Shut up.
Shut up.
“You poor, unlucky soul.”
“SHUT UP!”
A loud ringing bounced across Xu's mind, and her vision went pure white to accompany it. It progressed to blurriness a few seconds later, as if she were waking up.
“Eleanor!” A familiar voice shook through her. Her eyesight has gone clear, and everything is back to normal. She was at the orphanage once again. Two caretakers surrounded her while Eleanor was lying in one of the clinic's beds, with cold lighting around the atmosphere, giving a distant feel that felt uncomfortable. Xu shivered, not from the cold temperature, but from that empty and deep feeling inside her heart. It felt like she was tied down in the ocean with no way to breathe, slowly sinking, slowly losing her life while still conscious—It was worse than that. She was sweating, yet her body was cold and frozen. How weird.
“Eleanor! Dear Eleanor! Are you all right, child?" It was the orphanage's caregivers, Ms. Sybil. With a worried look on her face, along with Ms. Therese, another caregiver. They both looked horrified and worried. It looked... funny. Ms. Sybil leaned towards Eleanor with furrowed bushy eyebrows and hazel brown eyes, eager to feel relief. "It's been 3 hours since you passed out, Eleanor. We thought something terrible had happened!" The shorter caregiver babbled. Ms. Sybil; she's a funny rookie, that's for sure. She wasn't blessed with much height, standing around 4'11 ft tall. 5'1 ft with her everyday heels. She had naturally long, brown, chestnut-toned hair that reached down to her waist. And with dark brown eyes that turn into hazel with drops of yellow to complement it. She was wearing the caregiver's uniform, ironed neatly and fit her perfectly.
Ms. Therese, a more experienced caregiver, patted Ms. Sybil's shoulder gently. "You're going to overwhelm the child, Ms. Sybil." The older caregiver was taller, around 5'6 ft in height.
“I..” Eleanor muttered shyly, embarrassed even. “I am fine, Ms. Sybil and Ms. Therese.” She'd mutter, her eyes averted to all corners of the room, avoiding eye contact. Liar. She was not doing well at all. Her body heat and the sweat coming down from her forehead said it all
Ms. Sybil and Ms. Therese didn't seem convinced; they were skeptical, concerned at most. Ms. Therese's eyebrow raised in confusion as she sat down beside Eleanor's bed, her fingers tapping in sequence (finger drumming). A habit of hers when she's intrigued—or trying to seem nice and caring to discomforted children.
Ms. Therese then asked, in a soft yet suspicious tone. “Then why did you faint, Eleanor? Did you sleep well last night? Or did you 'forget' to eat again?" She said, as if she knew something—everything about the poor girl.
That. That struck a nerve.
"Why did she ask it like that? Why did she word it like that?"
The two caretakers—Ms. Sybil and Ms. Therese waited what felt like eternity for Eleanor to answer. It was silent, awkward silence. A drop of sweat fell on Ms. Sybil's face, not from the heat; it was cold inside the clinic anyway, but from the tension inside the room, the tension between Eleanor and them. Ms. Sybil's mouth gaped open, yet no words came out.
The two caregivers' eyes squinted in expectation, their eyebrows furrowed slightly. Before the two of them could utter a word, Eleanor softly let out a weak whisper. "I did eat." In that lifeless tone, Ms. Therese definitely sensed something was wrong, not from the food, not from the caregivers, nor nurses, but from Eleanor and her mindset itself.
"Ms. Sybil?" The older caregiver nudged Ms. Sybil's side. "May I have a word with the child? Alone."
Eleanor gulped. Was she in trouble for lying? Eleanor's hands closed in a tight fist, her fingers gripped a blanket on top of her lower body. Her eyes squinted in disappointment—disappointment in herself. For showing too much emotion to the point that caregivers are getting involved. "Damn it." She thought, her hands slightly shook in anticipation.
The shorter caregiver nodded her head silently, walking out the door and slowly closing it. Leaving the clinic to tend to the other children around the orphanage. It was already nighttime, and 9:00 PM meant it was the children's bedtime. The storybooks do not read themselves, and so the caregivers read them for the younger kids and teenagers who want to feel like a kid.
After Ms. Sybil left, there was deep silence, yet it rang so loud between both Eleanor and Ms. Therese. It was eerie, you could hear Eleanor's worried breaths along with the strong wind from outside the window. Eleanor saw Ms. Therese looking down at her, with a closed mouth, yet she spoke with only her concerned gaze, which Eleanor feared. It was a concerned gaze mixed with pity. Ms. Therese's closed demeanor did not help at all; it was as if she were studying Eleanor to torment her afterwards.
Well,
That is what Eleanor saw.
"Stop looking. Why do you keep staring at me? I don't look weird, do I? Say something! Why are you looking down on me!?"
"This complete silence is killing me. She knows something about me, doesn't she? If so, then why doesn't she say it already!? This irritates me. Someone, say something!" Eleanor's entire body began to shiver. She waited for someone to say something; she's not strong enough to say anything. Her gaze kept still on her hands, avoiding eye contact with Ms. Therese. If she looked anyone in the eye right now, she wou