Ana returns to the orphanage a day after the competition, eyes red-rimmed, hair frayed, and barely in the loosened band of her ponytail, feeling upset and exhausted to her very bones.

So it is only natural for Ms. Jennie to take one look at her face, her smile turning into a concerned frown as she questions sharply, "What's wrong?"

Ana comes to stand before the older woman wordlessly, throat tightening with emotion at the matron's unveiled care, while the cruel woman's biting words continue to resound in her head.

"Ana? What's wrong?"

The words sit heavy on the tip of Ana's tongue, and she finds herself so very close to throwing herself in the older woman's arms and crying her heart out.

They thought me a whore, she wants to scream. What did I do wrong?

Her heart aches with hurt, but she simply bites her tongue and smiles.

"Gotcha!" she forces out a giggle and takes out the trophy and the envelope containing the cash prize from her bag. "I won!"

Ms. Jennie's eyes widen, her face transforming from worried to gleeful in an instant as she cheers loudly and pulls her into a warm embrace.

"Oh, dear! You scared me."

"I won, Ms. Jennie. I won," she says, clinging tightly to the only source of maternal warmth she'd ever known in her life, akin to a fledgling clinging to the sheltering branches of her nest after flying into the open sky only to learn of the horrors in the dark.

Ana clings to the older woman and pretends that the tears in her eyes are not of sorrow but happiness.

                             ~~~~

Two days later, Ana is startled awake from a fretful sleep when her bedroom door is thrown open with a bang.

She immediately jerks awake, eyes widening in shock to see Ms. Martha—

(the older woman had unexpectedly returned the previous night from her visit to the nearby town, face marked with fatigue, looking more tired and weary than Ana had ever seen her as she had slammed the door to her office shut without exchanging even a single word with anyone )

—marching inside her room with a worried-looking Ms. Jennie hovering behind her.

Ana blinks, sleep leaving her eyes in an instant, and she gulps, hands curling against the bedsheet in nervousness, shrinks back a little at the anger visible in Head Matron's eyes, wonders what she'd done to incur the older woman's wrath.

"What is this?" Ms. Martha questions coldly.

Ana frowns, not understanding what the older woman means, not until her eyes fall on the piece of clothing clutched tightly in Ms. Martha's hands and her heart sinks in dread.

For, in her hands is the dress Ana had worn for the competition in New York.

The one with the large paint splotch on it.

Ana had spent all of the last evening (unsuccessfully) trying to get the stain out of her dress, had scrubbed and scrubbed the cloth with detergent until her fingers had turned pruney pink, but the stain remained stubborn, only turning a few shades light.

"How many times have I told you to stop wasting your time on such frivolous activities, girl? When will it go through your thick head?" The older woman snaps, nostrils flaring in agitation as she throws the dress on the floor by her bed.

"Martha, relax." Ms. Jennie tries to soothe her annoyed superior. "It's just a stain, it'll come out."

"It was a brand new dress," Ms. Martha shouts, scandalized. "Bought at your insistence for the girl from what precious little fund we are able to collect, and this girl has no value for it. She spoiled the dress with her carelessness."

"I'm sorry, Ms. Martha," Ana apologizes, scrambling out of the bed to pick the dress from the floor, head bowed in shame. "It was an accident but I promise it will never happen again."

Ms. Martha merely sniffs in disdain. "I told you to save it for special occasions. Where did you go wearing this new dress? I do not recall receiving any letter of an event from your school."

Ana freezes, eyes flickering towards Ms. Jennie who shakes her head discreetly, knowing that should Ms. Martha learn about her trip to New York, they'd be in huge trouble.

"I... uhmn—"

"You know how young girls are these days, Martha," Ms. Jennie interjects, chuckling. "They like to play dress up —"

But Ms. Jennie is cut off midsentence, when the older woman raises her palm, eyes zeroing on the shiny trophy that Ana had kept on the desk by the window.

Ana's breath hitches and she exchanges an alarmed look with Ms. Jennie, but before either of them can speak and come up with an excuse, Ms. Martha quickly walks towards the table, snatching up the trophy, eyes squinting as she reads the label.

"New York?" she murmurs, brows furrowing in confusion, before her eyes snap towards Ana and she questions, voice lower than a whisper, frail fingers wrapped tight around the shiny metal. "When did you go to New York?"

Ana feels the color drain from her face as the stern woman's piercing gaze falls upon her. Her mouth goes dry, words failing her under the weight of the critical stare.

"New York? What nonsense! It's an old trophy, Martha." Ms. Jennie tries to brush it off, but her voice wavers and Ms. Martha smells the lie like a shark sniffing out blood in the water.

"Do you think I cannot read, Jennie?" Ms. Martha snaps before glancing towards Ana and questioning harshly. "Tell me, girl. Did you go to New York while I was out of town?"

Ana's eyes begin to flicker towards Ms. Jennie for help when Ms. Martha shouts, making her flinch.

"Speak, girl!"

Left with no choice but to speak the truth, Ana lowers her eyes and nods hesitantly. "Y-Yes, Ms. Martha."

"With whose permission?" she hears the older woman question, her voice colder than the arctic lands.

"Mine." Ms. Jennie intervenes, walking over to stand before Ana. "I allowed her to go. In fact, I insisted that she go," she announces, holding her superior's icy gaze steadily, unwilling to back down.

"And how did you afford that?" Ms. Martha scoffs challengingly, before a glimmer of apprehension streaks in her voice. "Did you take money out of the orphanage fund to fulfill this worthless girl's every whim?"

"Martha!"

"Answer me!" The older woman snaps back.

"If you must know, I used my savings." Ms. Jennie replies stiffly. "I did not take any money out of the fund nor did we do anything wrong"

"That's for me to decide and not you." Ms. Martha exhales angrily, eyes shining with disappointment as she stares at the other woman. "I will speak to you in my office, Jennie. Go and wait for me there."

"But —"

"Go!" The older matron orders firmly, and Ms. Jennie leaves after a last encouraging glance at Ana, who feels herself tremble when the harsh woman's eyes fall on her.

An uncomfortable yet familiar silence stretches between them, weighing down on her like an anvil, echoing the number of times Ana has unwittingly found herself in a similar situation with the older woman.

"You're lucky Jennie cares enough for someone so unwanted like you," the matron says coldly, "because if it were up to me, you'd have been gone from here years ago."

The words pierce straight through the tattered remains of Ana's heart.

"Now put yourself to some use and come down to make breakfast before the other children wake up. You can go to school after that."

Ana nods meekly, and the older matron turns to leave, pausing briefly near the door.

"Girl?" she calls out, without turning to face Ana.

"Yes, Ms. Martha?"

"Do not return until after dinner."

The unspoken punishment hangs in the air with an icy finality, leaving Ana to simply nod wordlessly as the door to her room shuts with a soft click.

.

.

.

Later that night, Ana returns to the orphanage well past dinner time.

Her feet are cold and hollow sounding over the tiles as she looks towards the empty kitchen, belly aching with hunger, but before any traitorous thoughts could enter her head, she turns away and tiptoes to her room quietly, careful to not make any noise that would attract the stern matron's ire towards her.

She quietly enters her bedroom and flicks on the lights, only to jump in fright, palms covering her mouth at the last moment to prevent a startled scream from slipping out at finding Ms. Jennie sitting on her bed.

"Ms. Jennie?" She breathes out, one hand over her racing heart. "What are you doing here?"

"I was waiting for you. I thought you'd be hungry," the older woman shrugs, and Ana's eyes flicker toward the napkin-covered plate of food placed on her desk.

Having survived only on water and a few slices of bread the whole day, Ana's stomach immediately growls at the sight of the food, cheeks reddening in shame at the sound, but she shakes her head fearfully.

"I'm not supposed to have dinner today. Ms. Martha will get angry at you again if she sees you here!"

Ms. Jennie frowns, eyes turning sharp for a moment before she smiles comfortingly. "Come here, child."

Ana hesitates, glancing towards the corridor uncertainly, as if afraid that the strict woman would suddenly materialize out of the shadows, before walking towards the bed and sitting by her favorite matron's side.

"I know Martha was very harsh today but don't take her words to heart, dear one," the older woman says, running her fingers gently through Ana's hair. "She's under a lot of pressure right now."

"But she didn't say anything wrong, did she?" Ana murmurs, sadness and hurt lodging like an ache in her throat. "You have done more than enough for me and I shouldn't be so careless with the things that are given to me."

Ms. Jennie sighed, cradling Ana's cold hands in hers. "These things happen, Ana," she insists. "Martha was unfairly hard on you.  She took out her frustration on you which isn't right and I will be sure to let her know that once she is calm enough."

Ana blinks, confused. "What do you mean?"

Ms. Jennie's brows furrow with distress at her question, but she shakes her head and offers her a warm smile. "You don't need to worry about it, dear," she says, before abruptly questioning Ana. "Where have you been? Your hands are so cold." The older woman frets, rubbing warmth on her skin.

"At the park," Ana answers truthfully, allowing the change of topic.

Ms. Jennie clicks her tongue in disapproval but says nothing more, simply placing the food-laden plate between them.

"Eat now!" she urges.

Ana can't help but smile slightly at the matron's motherly fussing as she reaches for the spoon, thanking her stars for the umpteenth time for granting Ms. Jennie's presence in her life.

Once the matron leaves, Ana turns off the lights and climbs under her blankets.

Sleep comes to her, eventually.

And with it comes the darkness and its shadows, the chill of her fear so thick she can almost taste it.

She dreams of it often, of the cold darkness that had been her companion for most of her childhood.

But there's something different about her nightmare that night.

The darkness remains, but the cold is replaced by blazing warmth.

A touch— like hot, burning embers over her forehead, followed by a soft and warm flicker like a pair of lips to her cheek, then a rush of air like a laugh over the shell of her ear.

The fire spreads, caressing her lower lip, her throat, sliding over her skin—

.

.

.

Ana wakes—

Alone.

The light that spills in her room is a pale silver, the moon shining brightly in the otherwise dark night, while the curtains flutter in the cold wind, the moment quiet, still caught at the edge of sleep.

The dream....nightmare... she didn't know what to name it, had felt different somehow, more vivid and visceral than any she'd had before.

Her heart beats wildly against her breast, the ghost of a touch lingering over her skin, and she finds herself unconsciously tracing the scaldingly hot spot on her forehead and cheek, while a whisper against her ear that feels impossibly more real than any whisper in a dream should, resounds in her head, loud and ominous.

"Soon."

It feels like a threat.

No.

It feels like a promise.

****