Key To A Goblin's Heart

I saw myself growing up. I don't know if anyone ever had the misfortune of seeing oneself as a toddler, growing up and committing stupid mistakes, all the while being oblivious to the nature of them. I, however, was the unfortunate lot. 

"Nurse Joah's Orphanage" was one of the oldest in existence. It had survived the World War, and still stood proud among the vast spread of land that was donated to it in the early nineties. Sister Erika was the head nun now, flanked by a troop of other strict disciplinaires, all of whom made sure to make the orphans into a respectable lot in the society. 

Well, atleast they tried. 

The orphanage, on the other hand, was a different thing altogether.

I didn't need to witness the flashbacks to remember how miserable my life was when I lived there. It was, a painful reminder, of the life that I had to live due to the spite of another person. I had no role to play in the workings of fate, and I wondered, if I would have been happier, had I been brought up under different circumstances. 

The Darkness would still be there, lurking around the corner of my subconscious, and I didn't think that it would have let me have an easier life. I was born into Darkness, conceived into the womb of a woman with a Dark curse, brought into the world with the help of another curse. I wondered what had made me survive all these, Wouldn't it have been easier if I had just died and Donald gave me up to that Dark Figure?

Little Victoria was sleeping on her bed, in the girl's dormitory, and her face bore an expression of extreme agony. I watched her closely, and I knew what was causing her so much pain. It was those nightmares I had as a child, the ones that had haunted me through daylight. I didn't want to relieve these moments, but some strange fate had condemned me to go through all of this again. 

Even though, I was detached from my younger self, I still could feel everything that she was going through. I remembered those dreams only too well, of Dark Castles and bleeding statues, Of screams that sounded from afar yet they encroached upon me. I could remember the knives drawn to my throat in the dreams, I could remember those spooky ghosts that would hang me upside down and torture me to the end. 

Growing up, I often thought about those dreams, and what they had signified. The psychiatrist had diagnosed me with severe PTSD and depression, but no one had a single clue as to how it all arose. They would hear about my abuse as an infant, and would pin their conclusions on it. But, how can an infant be conscious enough to develop PTSD? No one seemed to have an answer to that. 

Now, I knew. It wasn't just PTSD, it was the Darkness at the core of my existence. The Magic that Donald had used to torture me, seeped itself into my veins and thus made my childhood so unstable. In a way, he had condemned my life to that… without any fault of mine. 

This information brought me some peace, I could finally stop blaming myself for being weak enough to be scared by nightmares. All my life, I had lived in a small closet, trying to escape but being held down by the weight of my thoughts. I know what people thought about me, tough Victoria...she must be so lucky... she's so strong, she's total badass…. only I knew the weight that I had to bear every single day!

The Darkness never went from my life, even as I grew older. I only learned to fight it better, to hide in behind the curtains of fake smile and unadulterated confidence. I learned to be badass, I learned to fight back, because what else did I have to lose anyway?

Little Victoria suddenly started screaming, clearly tormented by the contents of her dreams. The dorm was awake in a moment, all lights blazed at once, and the girls huddled together in fear. 

"Who was that?" Cried the head girl, Ava... who was only ten, but still the eldest among the others. 

They tried to look around, searching for the source of the noise but no intruders were in sight. One girl ran off to call the nuns, while Ava looked under everyone's bed, trying to find the mysterious monster that might have elicited the scream. 

Victoria screamed again, and this time the girls could understand. They huddled near her, and woke her up with a slap. 

The dream suddenly disrupted, Victoria woke up confused and scared. 

"The purple monsters…..they have blood in their eye sockets and they were trying to strangle me!" She cried helplessly. 

One of the girls snorted. 

Ava had a hard expression on her face, and as she spoke, her face seemed to mock me. 

"Another nightmare! Seriously, Victoria this is the third time in a week! You really have some crazy shit going on inside that head of yours. And, you disturbed all of our sleep in this nonsense."

"Freak!" Someone muttered. 

Others followed the lead, and started chorusing, "Freak!", "Coward", "Stupid", "crazy". 

Little Victoria only looked at them, batting her eyelids in confusion as they mocked her on her face. 

"But...but it was true! I know it was true…. I didn't do it on purpose." Tears started to well up in her eyes. 

The girls weren't relenting though, and they started cat calling her.

"You are real messed up!" One said. 

"Your head needs fixing up." Another chimed. 

"She's just an attention seeker, don't pay much heed to her. She comes up with these weird dreams and wakes us all up in the middle of the night, because... well she wants us to moon over her. Poor, pitiful Victoria, so sad..whew whew." They mocked and laughed. 

Tears ran down my eyes, as I saw my younger self trying to convince everyone that she didn't mean any inconvenience. I saw her fruitlessly pleading, trying to make herself understood, while the girls containued mocking her. At last, she gave in and started crying in earnest, and this earned her even harsher treatment from the girls. 

The days all went like that. While all the others had their own groups, Victoria always roamed alone. She ate alone, sitting at the corner of the canteen as the others passed by her, some mocking her while others outright ignored her. 

The classes were even worse, because Victoria was good at them. Somehow, this further alienated her...and when she got good scores in a test, her meals would be stolen that day, her bed would be soiled and someone would put a dead lizard in her soup. 

The tortures always built up, unless Victoria would give in to her rage and create a tantrum, or run into the fight. The nuns would get involved then, and while all the other girls sided against her, no one would believe her stories of innocence. They all pined her as an unstable girl, incapable of controlling her rage and creating a toxic environment wherever she went. She pleaded and pleaded, but no one would buy her story. 

The nuns always believed in the majority, and anyway they were too busy to prode into the daily lives of any one girl in the orphanage. 

So, little Victoria grew isolated, with no one to listen to her fears and everyone ready to mock her. She decided, that since no one would be convinced of her innocence, it's better to become the very thing they condemned her of. So, she became unstable, enraged and toxic. She would fight back all the time, everyday there would be some new argument that she took part in, she would defy direct orders from the nuns and anyone who came in her way, would be made to pay a price!

As I saw myself growing up as an unstable teen, I could have nothing but sympathy for myself. A little irritation too, but I knew exactly how she felt. I know how much she wanted to just escape, to go to any place where everyone would leave her alone. She just wanted to deal with her issues peacefully. 

But peace was a rare entity. As she grew more troubled, the nuns grew more concerned. 

I overheard them saying, "We need to do something about this girl. She is not good for the environment of the orphanage, almost every day there's a complaint about her and I don't know what to do about it."

Sister Erika stroked her chin in concern, "Maybe... it's time then, to send her to foster care. I don't think we have any other way left."

The other nuns nodded gratefully, immediately agreeing to the proposition. I knew how gladly they wanted to get rid of me, and I knew that I wanted to get rid of all these too. 

For as long as I had remembered, I was an angry child. But where the anger stemmed from, I hardly remembered. I saw it now, clearly as the entire life unfolded before my eyes.