"Priscilla, wake up you lazy bones! The hallways aren't going to scrub themselves, you know." Matron Samelis pounded on the door to the girl's room, rudely waking her up. Priscilla Dillon, 14 year old orphan, rubbed her face with one hand, and pondered the risk of angering the sour matron by going back to sleep. Her stomach grumbled in reply, reminding her of the last time she got on Samelis's bad side. She had argued with the witch about her supposedly "missed" spot on the china dishes she had been scrubbing for three hours straight. The matron had locked her in her room, and gave her no food for three days straight, and only the minimal amount of water to keep her alive.

Shivering at the memory, Priscilla rose out of bed and got ready for the day. She grabbed her unofficial "uniform" of a dingy, off-white dress and ratty old sneakers. She brushed her medium length, gold hair, and brushed her teeth. She rushed out, only to trip over the bucket and sponge that the matron left for her to start working.

"Owww… That really hurt." Priscilla was used to various scrapes and bruises, but she was disheartened by the fact that she ripped the hem of her dress. Matron wouldn't give her anything to fix it with, so she would just have to be careful when she washed it. She hated it here. She hated having to sleep with one eye open, whether it be to avoid Matron's wrath or to avoid getting her few treasures stolen by the other children, always on the lookout for their ticket out of this hell hole. She couldn't blame them, however. She would take any chance to leave if one was presented to her, no matter the price.

Getting brought out of her thoughts by a feeling of spreading dampness was not a pleasant feeling, especially with what happened next.

Priscilla's hand shook as it pressed itself to her cheek. Matron Samelis had struck her with enough force for the young girl's head to snap to the side and back again. "You insolent, ungrateful child! I went and made the water for you, taking time out of my very busy schedule, and you go and spill it all with your rampant clumsiness? You are a worthless girl. This is why no one would want to adopt you, as no one would want to adopt a child who is just a drain on their resources. You have nothing to give a family, not even a chance of attracting a suitor who could afford to support you or them. You will never be or do anything. You are an ugly, disgusting waste of space."

Priscilla began to tear up at the hateful words. Even though she knew they were most likely true, she didn't like to be reminded. Of course she was sixteen and still not adopted, even though she had been there since she was six. What else could explain the lack of potential families, even as other children came and went. She shook her head, and replaced the water in the bucket and got to work. The less attention she attracted from the old witch, the better. After all, tonight she was finally leaving this horror house and its ghastly owner. The other children had no idea, but it was better this way. Now, if Matron decided to interrogate them, they would have plausible deniability. Either way, she would be gone by daylight, like a ghost in the wind.