The governess opened the door and with a firm knock on the doorframe announced her usual good morning. Isabelle jumped for a moment, not too disturbed by that noise that was now part of her daily life. She rubbed her eyes and stretched out her arms, ready to start a new day.

She looked at the ceiling, a few feet above her: a stain of dark mold was spreading more and more on the gray surface, swollen with humidity. She measured it with her hand: some time before it had been right between her thumb and little finger while now it was a good two spans long. She looked around: everything in that room, just like that dark spot, reflected the long history of that building, built as a Nazi school many decades before and never renovated. Moldy or cracked walls were just one of the many signs of decay surrounding Belle.

She stood up in bed and looked down at her: a few golden curls were peeking out between the covers, Jane was still sleeping blissfully, as always. She smiled, for a simple moment, then moved her gaze to the other two bunk beds, from which the girls had already slipped out: punctuality was fundamental, they knew it well. Belle, however, wasn't particularly attentive to these formalities, all those rules weren't for her.

She stretched her legs until her toes slipped out of the sheets, she savored the sensation of the warmth of dreams that slowly made room for the cold of reality; she sighed and then stood up again. She threw off the heavy blankets and went down the steps to the bed, then jumped to the ground in one leap from the penultimate step.
"Good morning, Jane... I'm sorry, but you really need to wake up!"
A bundle hidden under the covers turned away, while Belle received only a yawn and an easy-to-interpret groan as an answer. She approached and in a flash discovered a little blonde head, her face hidden against the pillow.
"Five more minutes..."
"Hurry, we're already late, even today!"
A slightly rebellious and smug smile appeared on her face as she sat next to Jane, not at all worried. The little blonde and sleepy girl stood up, stretching out her arms, her curls disheveled and her little eyes still half-closed.
"Okay, I'm up..."
She rubbed her eyes, while Belle handed her the gray slippers, like everything else in that place. She slipped her bare feet into the rough slippers and followed Belle, trailing behind her little hand that guided her, like a sleepwalker.

They reached the toilets, now empty, where the other girls had left their brushes and towels on the sinks.
"Oh, look: the bathroom is all for us, the chickens are already at breakfast!" They laughed together and headed towards two small sinks close to each other. Belle sat down in front of a mirror with rusty edges, still smiling, and turned on the tap, putting her little hands under the freezing jet. Running water was one of the few luxuries they could afford: since the new millennium it had also been given to the people's quarter, but only cold water. Electricity, however, remained a mirage: fire was still the only source of heat and light.

"Belle, do you think we'll leave here one day?"
Jane stared at the mirror, still dazed:
"You know, last night I dreamed of having a family, a real family. We were in a little house of our own, there was nothing but a little fireplace, but we were happy..."
Belle she watched a tear slide down her sweet friend's red cheek and felt her little heart melt in an instant:
"Sometimes dreams come true... The secret is to never stop believing in them. Will you promise me you'll never do that?"
Jane shook her head resolutely. Then she turned her gaze on Belle, a little more serene.
"I promise!"
"It's much better now, wash those tears away."
Belle led the way, gathering some water in her hands and rinsing her face; a shiver ran down her spine. She turned to Jane, who was undergoing the same torture. Washing herself with the freezing water in the early morning was a real shock, but at least it helped Jane out of her daily trance. It was a welcome to reality...

They combed each other's hair and put on their uniforms: tights that Belle just couldn't do to put up with, a faded skirt, a wrinkled blouse and a tartan patterned sweater, made of rough wool. Luckily they were still small to wear the bodice, and could tie their hair with a simple ribbon, after a quick comb. Within a few years they would become "ladies", what an unbearable word! At that point the morning routine would no longer be so simple.