I wasn’t always so impassive.

I still remember the day I was bought off to the Memoir. I was around thirteen at that point, and still heavily attached to Mischa. She was my twin sister and my only true family at the orphanage. We clung to each other. I was very similar to her in personality and in the way we thought. She was the only one I had.

Everyone else was too desperate to care about anyone else. We competed against each other based on appearance, intellect through test scores, and had to cater to the workers of Blue Lily Orphanage. We did what we could in order to be adopted. We were the products of the orphanage, in order to attract wealthy and well established families to adopt us. This was a common occurrence everywhere in the world after the decline of birth rates, and the rise of the verses. 

But even with the world being the way it was and is, the competition wasn't always there for us. The original director was a kind man who looked after the children equally. I remember the gifts we'd each receive, the nice meals that we enjoyed. He had a caring countenance that we all could rely on. The orphans were my siblings, and he was my father. I wish I could go back to those days when I didn't know how fragile everything was.

After his passing when I was 5, there were problems in the passing down of his position. It was meant to go to another government official. Someone the old director approved of. But due to corruption and details I can't remember anymore, the orphanage became as rotten as the rest. My small safe home became another part of the world. 

I saw the look of annoyance and anger on the second director's face. It was the first time I met him. It was a while ago, but I could still remember oddly enough. When he yanked my hand and walked me to my room, I looked at Mischa and I knew she was experiencing the same realization. In that moment, I just knew. That things wouldn't be the same anymore.

I had the belief that things would get better. I did what I could to gain back any control I could. I tried my hardest to score well. I ignored the cries of the younger kids when they were being punished. I did what I could do. For myself. If I had anything positive to say, it'd be that my saving grace was that I never clung to the director and expected love from him. I had my sister. She had me. We would never hurt each other. And that made all the difference in the way I saw things. Because the director was nothing to me. I knew who he was and what he stood for, unlike my less fortunate 'siblings' who did what they could to be loved by him. They were used like tools.

I excelled at the orphanage so I had the hope that things would be alright for me. Mischa did well too. I had hope for us to not be tools.

But the day I presented as an alpha, the next morning I was picked up by a member of the Memoir syndicate. Once again, I realized how fragile and small I was. I was passed around like a bargained toy, like some kind of currency or object that was traded. The director was all smiles despite his cold eyes. I was angry. I always felt and feel that emotion but it was a surge of adrenaline to do something back then.

I hated that dehumanizing experience so I fought back. Mischa trembled but tried to help. But we were weak kids, and couldn't resist him. We were easily captured. With my hands forcefully brought to my back, my body on the floor, he stared at me from above. The man who was sent to collect me looked me straight in the eyes. He had an overbearing stature. With a cold gaze he told me, his exact words were,

"No one else wants you."

No one else wants you. They wanted me for my verse, perhaps my decent results. That's why they took me and no one else. There were plenty of children who were capable, or else why would they be the first to come for me? If I fought back, it was even likely that this man with cold eyes would get rid of me. I know now that I had some value as an exceptional performer. But back then, I caved in to my lack of self worth. I perceived myself as a liability.

There was no where to run.

After that, he took me without much of a fight. I shook Mischa's hand off. When she saw my face,  we wordlessly exchanged a goodbye. I could read her eyes like a book. We didn't have the power. That was the last I saw of her for many years.