1862
I couldn’t feel the rain as it touched my smoldering skin; but I knew it was turning into a flood .As my shoes filled up with water, I ran through the back alleys that connected Brooklyn, until I finally reached the crumpling building, standing like a dark giant in front of me. I placed my locket inside the folds of the yellow blanket; as well as a hand-written note informing the nurse on duty of my dire situation. I kissed my daughter on the forehead; while gently setting the basket underneath a ledge to make sure she wouldn’t freeze in this terrible storm. I rapped on the large door, pressing my ear against the rotting wood. When I heard the patter of footsteps down the stairs I took off into a full sprint; unaware of the tears streaming down my face, as hard as the downpour which filled the streets of New York that night.
1880
Charlotte woke up to the sound of rain tapping on her window sill. It had been pouring for 3 days now, it seemed even the weather was devastated over her 18th birthday. As she rolled onto her back, the thin goose down tick couldn’t brace against the hard metal frame and a loud squeak escaped; shrill enough to wake a dead man. Charlotte lazily turned her head to look out of the attic window of the orphanage. It was then she realized it was the last day she would ever look at the roof tops of Brooklyn and the cloudy sky from this spot ever again. “I’ll miss this place”, she whispered. It had always been her home.
I decided to pull myself out of bed and get dressed; even though I knew there was no reason to. I had no chores today, and no prospective family to take me home. After I started to mature; no high society woman would want “Charlotte Furey; the audacious Orphan” gallivanting around her respectable home. The black buttons strained over my bust line and hips, pushing them to their breaking point. It is the only thing that still fits her after 3 years of being too big to wear the free donations. The old garment was her only dress. The hem is torn and shabby, the deep scarlet color has faded, and it is completely out of fashion; but it was hers. She wrapped her blonde, curly mess of hair into a tight bun, and looked at herself in the mirror. She felt a tinge of pride, at how she had grown into a woman; but immediately saddened by her dull complexion, almost matching the gray of her eyes. She knew she didn’t have a name; or a real purpose in life.
Charlotte finished putting on her black hoses, and scuffed black shoes. She knew that Daniel Shimmer would be in the orphanage main room, wanting to take her in. What would a middle-aged, balding man want with her? Nothing ordinary or something she would ever be interested in. Charlotte was about to leave her cozy nest she has come so attached to, when the old wood door flew open; it was Lady Katherine, one of the younger nuns working at St. John’s Orphanage; looking as nervous and disheveled as a church mouse, who was caught nibbling on a wheel cheese. “Charlotte,” Katherine stammered, “I have Mr. Daniel Shimmer in the waiting area, and you’re 20 minutes slept in.” I could feel my blood turn to ice; my worst fear has come true. I haven’t any money, or options; Shimmer was my only hope for survival.
As I began to straighten my dress, Lady Katherine began to whisper into Charlotte’s ear. “You know, there is another way.” I murmured back,” what way is that?” Katherine stood so close to my face I could smell the harsh bleach from her clothes, and a soft hint of lavender perfume, “Chaperone the Orphan Train, and work as a governess to any family who will take you. Lottie, you were always the brightest star in my classes, don’t let this man bring you down.” And in an instant, she was gone, bolted out as fast, and as loudly and she came. I crumpled down onto the wooden floor. My thoughts were racing, in barely recognizable sentences. I can’t become Daniel Shimmer’s mistress, I can’t become a thing to be tossed around. The man is revolting, and smells of Mint and cheap Gin. I knew what had to be done. I straightened my shaky legs, and looked once more the mirror. I didn’t realize that I had been crying until I saw the stains on my face and the sharp pain from the cold wind against my cheek. I shut the window, and wiped off my face.
