15GA5SATA 31, '97

Dear Mom,

Today is my 17th birthday.

I should be happy but I am not. I am tired so permit my less detailed writing.

Bored out of their minds, I'm sure they were, Grandma Maggie and Grandpa Joe insisted that I accompany them to the orphanage. They said that I would be glad to be there- celebrating amongst my own kins since I was one of them now, an orphan.

We had arrived at the Catholic orphanage, a tall dank, building. Entering into the dark hall, we met a few nuns, fake smiles etched onto their rounded faces. The hall way smelled musty, the windows more or less shrouding the light. In a way, I wondered where all the money gathered from charity went. Probably to the greedy fat nuns whose bulging bodies threatened to burst out of their habits.

Grandad was once afflicted with the pastoral community so he was familiar with them. I had stood watching as he greeted everyone, annoyed I was in this gloomy place and wishing I would be back home.

"Come, let us go meet your fellows," Grandma had told me, placing a warm hand on my back.

We were lead inside a huge dining room, hundreds and hundreds of girls settled on metal chairs, their hungry gazes latching onto us.

The Matron introduced us, stating our business with them. I had tuned her out so the rest of what I did happened in a blur. The girls sang for me a happy birthday song in a neutral tone, the workers brought in the food Grandma had prepared with the help of her friends. Because I was the man of the day, I had to go around, gifting the little package of food to each girl. Everytime I made a round, a tiny voice would whisper, grateful, "Thank you kind sir."

I would offer them a curt nod, face unsmiling, anger filing me at the fact that I slaved away while they sat and took.

Eventually, I was done with the draining business and took my seat back at the table where my grandparents sat. It was time to eat.

Before we began feasting, the matron stood. How she had managed to shove her fat disgusting body out of that tiny seat, I was yet to know.

"Let us pray." Her chin had wobbled as she waved a frail arm for the girls to rise.

Everyone hoisted up, the scrambling of chairs a grate in my sensitive ears until the air finally settled, utter silence reigning. Eyes closed, fingers entwined with each other, and a great hush fell over the hall.

Following suit, I clasped my hands together, shutting my eyes but reopened them when I was sure no one was looking.

"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you..." I feasted my eyes on each and every girl. Clad in drab uniforms, they differed in shape, size and age. But they were all united in prayer.

"Blessed are you among women and blessed is the fruit of your womb Jesus. Holy Mary pray for us. . ."

A dark feeling engulfed me, sanity returning to my soul as I stared at each little girl clutching their rosaries, lips moving in worship. This was it. They were they reason why. If I couldn't be the girl that Father had wanted me to be, maybe I could mould these little ones into the girls I'd never be.

Thank you Mary for the insight and as I recall my day to you Mother, my arm is itching to do something bad. Something I am sure I wouldn't regret.

Kill one of those girls.

Till later,
Ave Maria.

A/N: Thoughts?

Love,
Nita (nwanyi oma) :)