The orphanage was silent except for the steady drip of water echoing somewhere in the distance and the faint breathing of the sleeping children in their cold rooms.
Mia lay on the thin cot, her small body curled beneath the threadbare blanket. Moonlight spilled in through the barred window, casting silver patterns across the cracked plaster walls. Tonight, the night felt different — heavy, electric, as if the air itself was holding its breath.
Her heart thumped painfully in her chest, pounding like a wild bird desperate to escape its cage. She had waited for this moment for weeks, maybe months. Every night she had rehearsed the plan in her head: how she would slip out when the guard's footsteps faded down the hall, how she would squeeze between the rusted bars, how she would disappear into the dark city beyond.
Now, with trembling hands, she pushed the thin blanket aside and sat up. The chill of the room crept into her bones, but she barely noticed.
A glance toward the door showed it was slightly ajar — the guard must have forgotten to close it properly. A small mercy, a whisper of chance.
Mia crept forward, careful not to make a sound. Her bare feet felt the rough wood floor, splinters digging into her skin. Each step was slow, deliberate, a dance with fear and hope.
She reached the window. The rusty bars loomed like cold prison walls, their paint peeling and flaking away. She had been eyeing this gap for weeks, the narrow space where the metal bent slightly outward, just wide enough to slip through if she was careful.
Her hands shook as she tested the opening. It was tight, but possible.
Outside, the city waited. Dark and sprawling, a world she had only glimpsed in fleeting moments through the orphanage's high windows. The streets were whispered stories and distant lights, a dangerous place for a child alone — but freedom was calling louder than fear.
Mia took a deep breath, the cold night air filling her lungs. She pushed one shoulder through the gap, then the other. The metal scraped against her skin, biting and unforgiving. For a moment, she was stuck, heart hammering so loudly she thought it would burst.
But with a final squeeze, she slipped free.
Her feet hit the cold ground outside with a soft thud. She didn't stop to look back. There was no safety in the orphanage anymore. No warmth, no kindness — only loneliness and walls that closed in tighter with every passing day.
The night wrapped around her like a cloak, shadows swallowing her small figure. She pulled her coat tighter, though it did little to keep out the chill.
The city streets stretched ahead — cracked sidewalks, flickering streetlights, the distant hum of cars and life. It was both terrifying and beautiful.
Mia took a tentative step forward, then another. The cold bit at her cheeks and fingers, but the fire inside her burned brighter. She was free.
Her mind raced. Where would she go? Who would she find? What awaited her in the darkness?
But for now, all that mattered was that she had escaped.
The city was nothing like the quiet orphanage she had left behind. It was alive — noisy, chaotic, and overwhelming. Cars honked in the distance, voices echoed down narrow alleys, and the smell of smoke and food mingled with the cold night air.
Mia's steps faltered as she wandered through the maze of streets. Every shadow seemed to watch her, every sound felt like a warning. She hugged herself tightly, shivering not just from the cold but from the crushing emptiness inside her small frame.
She had nowhere to go. No family, no friends. Her parents were gone — taken too soon, leaving her alone in a world that had never truly been kind. The orphanage was the closest thing she'd had to home, but even that was suffocating now.
A stray dog barked sharply nearby, breaking her reverie. She pressed herself against a rough brick wall, closing her eyes to hold back tears she had no strength left to cry.
Mia's fingers grazed the worn edges of a small, faded photograph in her pocket — a precious remnant of a life she barely remembered. Her mother's face smiled gently back at her, but the warmth was gone, stolen by years of silence and loss.
No one was coming for her. No one was waiting.
The chill deepened as the night stretched on. Mia found shelter near an old, abandoned bakery where a torn cardboard box offered the slightest refuge. She curled inside it, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms tightly around herself.
Exhaustion tugged at her eyelids, but the weight of loneliness kept her awake. Questions swirled like a storm — What would happen next? Could she survive the cold streets? Was there any hope left for a girl like her?
Her dreams were restless, haunted by memories of empty rooms and locked doors. Outside, unseen eyes watched from the darkness — silent, patient, waiting for the right moment to step into her fragile world.
The first light of dawn was weak, barely filtering through the heavy clouds that hung low over the city. Mia shivered beneath her threadbare coat, but the cold was no longer the sharpest pain she felt. The weight of loneliness pressed down on her chest like a stone, heavier with each passing hour.
She stood slowly, muscles stiff from the night curled in the cardboard box. The city was waking, the distant rumble of engines and murmurs of early risers stirring the streets to life. But for Mia, the day was no less uncertain than the night.
Her bare feet ached as she stepped onto the cracked pavement, each step tentative and unsure. She had nowhere to go, no one to turn to. The photograph in her pocket was a brittle thread to a past she barely remembered, a past now forever closed to her.
The orphanage was gone from her sight, but not from her mind. The gray walls, the cold dinners, the quiet loneliness — it was all stitched into her like a scar. And yet, as she walked, something inside her flickered: a fragile spark of hope, faint but persistent.
Mia hugged her coat tighter, her breath catching as a sudden noise startled her — the distant clatter of footsteps, quick and purposeful. She glanced around, eyes searching the shadows for their source.
But the streets were empty save for her.
Still, the feeling of being watched lingered, an invisible weight on her skin. She pressed forward, weaving between alleys and side streets, her senses sharp, every nerve on edge.
She didn't know where she was going. All she knew was that she couldn't stay still.
Her journey had just begun.
******Wandering in the street*******
The sun was just beginning to climb when Mia found herself standing at the edge of a bustling market street. The noise was overwhelming—a sharp contrast to the silence of the orphanage and the quiet of the night. Vendors shouted, selling everything from fresh bread to worn clothes, their voices weaving together into a chaotic symphony.
Mia's stomach twisted with hunger, each scent of food slicing through her like a cruel reminder. She watched from the shadows, small and unnoticed, clutching her coat tightly around her. Her feet ached, and her thin shoes offered little protection from the rough pavement.
She wanted to move closer, to ask for help, maybe even to buy something warm to eat. But the fear knotted deep inside her throat. What if they rejected her? What if someone took her back to the orphanage? Or worse?
Instead, she kept to the edges, watching the world she'd only glimpsed before from locked windows and barred doors. Her eyes traced the faces passing by—some kind, some indifferent, others hardened by their own battles.
As she rounded a corner, Mia spotted a small park with a few scattered benches. She slipped onto one, pressing her hands together to warm them. For a moment, she allowed herself to breathe, to imagine a life beyond survival.
But the city was relentless. A group of teenagers laughed nearby, throwing scraps of bread to the pigeons. Their voices echoed, sharp and careless, reminding Mia that she was invisible here—just another shadow in a sea of faces.
The hours dragged on. Mia wandered, trying to memorize the streets and find a place that might offer shelter or safety. She avoided the main roads, slipping into alleyways when the crowds grew too loud or the looks too cold.
Her mind replayed memories of the orphanage—the quiet meals, the locked doors, the loneliness—and yet, she knew this new world was even harsher.
As dusk began to fall, Mia's steps slowed. She was tired, hungry, and scared. But somewhere deep inside, a quiet determination grew. She had escaped once. She could survive this too.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the city transformed. The bright noise of the day gave way to an eerie quiet, broken only by distant sirens and the occasional shout. Shadows stretched long across the cracked sidewalks, swallowing the edges of the streets where Mia walked with growing caution.
Her stomach ached fiercely now, a relentless reminder that the night would be colder and emptier than she had imagined. She hugged her coat tighter around her, trying to hold back the shivers.
Mia moved with the instinct of someone who knew they must keep moving to survive, but exhaustion tugged at her limbs like a heavy chain. She searched for a place to rest—any place that wouldn't ask questions or demand proof of belonging.
Near a darkened doorway, she crouched low, pressing her back against the rough brick. The cool night air whispered past her, carrying the faint scent of something she didn't recognize — danger, maybe, or just the city's endless secrets.
Her thoughts spun, memories of locked rooms and empty beds mixing with the sharp reality of the streets. She missed the orphanage, even with its loneliness. At least there, she had walls to protect her.
A sudden noise startled her — footsteps approaching fast. Her heart leapt into her throat as a shadow appeared in the alley's mouth. The figure paused, eyes scanning the darkness.
Mia froze, breath shallow, every muscle tense.
But the figure didn't come closer. Instead, the shadow slipped past, disappearing into the night.
For a moment, Mia let out a shaky breath. The city was watching her, always watching. She was small, vulnerable—but she was here, and she was still standing.
Curling back into a ball, she closed her eyes and let the exhaustion pull her under.
The dangerous world outside the orphanage walls was waiting for her, but Mia had survived the first night.
Author pov: Hi guys, my name is Ruby A.A, this is my first time publishing a story, please feel free to say you mind about this chapter