Chapter 7 What happened to 'Callie' Bloom

9 years ago

After the prosecution of her father's death, young Callie spent the first three months of her new life in the St. Rita's Orphanage home in Virginia.

The First month, the little girl was numb -literally, emotionally. She barely spoke one word a day. But she always gave a cold, deathly stare to the kids who dared to taunt her, bully her, and say her name; 'Callie.' It was a name that now happened to terrify her memories and send cold shivers all over her skin.

Her late mother never called her Callie, she called her her own name instead -Serena. Her late father made sure of that. In his words, "No one calls her Callie but me! She's mine!" His grave voice still thundered in the back of her head, a haunting testament to the misery she endured in his hands.

He was possessive of her. He dictated every aspect of her life, including her education, which meant she was strictly homeschooled. He'd locked her indoors for weeks without letting her see the sun.

"The world is full of evil," He had said to her one time. "I can't let it poison your sweet, pure soul. I can't let the world take you away from me." He'd caress her cheeks as he'd speak, fanning her breath with the stench of alcohol in his breath

Seeing the sun was a reward he gave to her whenever she behaved, but it was always under his strict supervision, and it never lasted more than an hour.

However, the night was forbidden. It was a luxury she first experienced that fateful night that changed everything -the night she killed him.

Her mother, Aria Serena Bloom, is an Italian goddess who made the grave mistake of marrying an irresponsible, psychotic alcoholic for a husband, Timothy Jr Bloom. Timothy was the love of her life. He was her first kiss and her first boyfriend. The whirlwind romance led to him impregnating her when she was 17, and her disappointed parents insisted he marry her.

Aria never fought back, regardless of her doting for her daughter. She was too timid to do so, because of the hold her devilishly handsome but abusive husband had on her. But the unfortunate night she gathered the courage to – picking up a kitchen knife with trembling hands, she threatened to stab him with it unless he let her and her daughter leave.

Infuriated by her rare spark of defiance, Timothy retaliated. He wrestled away the knife and in a fit of rage, he pushed her down the stairs, killing her.

He had called the police himself, telling them his wife had had a bad fall. And Callie couldn't tell the truth even though she witnessed the whole horrific incident. Her father made sure of that. His grip on her was that strong and suffocating.

The trauma continued to linger, and the resentment continued to simmer, but the thought of killing him and avenging her mother consumed her the most. Until, finally, she did, and as disturbing as it might be, Callie felt no remorse -only a hollow sense of justice.

A new chance at a full life was given to her. But her wounds ran too deep to be easily forgotten. Too haunting to move on from. She felt like she was scarred for life. So she spent the first month at the orphanage home, numb, broken, traumatized.

The second month at the orphanage home, she turned fourteen.

"I wish to be an assassin. So I'll kill all the bad men in the world." She had boldly declared at the assembly ground, where all the nuns, reverend sisters, and children had gathered for her birthday celebration. A celebration she certainly did not request for.

The sisters, profoundly disturbed by her proclamation, exchanged uneasy glances amongst themselves. However, the teenagers erupted into laughter. Their mocking jeers and snickers stung her, making her feel more isolated and misunderstood.

"With your scrawny hands and legs? I doubt that." She had heard Roger, the 16-year-old biggest bully in the orphanage home, scorn. And the other kids burst out laughing.

"You can't even defend yourself, you're just a little, sad, messed up, ugly girl. No one's ever going to adopt you!" Roger taunted her on another day.

"Roger!" A Sister had yelled with sheer distaste for his comment, reprimanding him. "To the Chapel! Now!"

And on the last day he bullied her, he said, "Poor Callie, just because you killed your daddy and mommy doesn't make you strong! You're weak, Callie! You'll always be."

Instantly triggered and enraged, Callie retaliated, attacking him in the playground square. "Arghhhhh!" She screamed as she pounced on him. Before Roger could throw his hands up in defense, she blew him a savage punch in his eye. Then another, and another. She didn't relent, she continued until her fist was drenched in blood.

"Callie!" A reverend sister shrieked, running to her with her terror-stricken face, her eyes wide with fear for Roger.

"My God, Callie, what have you done!?" Sister Aisha cried.

Callie jerked her head towards her, her eyes brimming with hot tears, her face burning red with rage. "Stop calling me that!" She screamed in her face, "He's dead! Don't call me that anymore! Please!" She cried, throwing herself to the ground and hugging her knees, crying agonizingly.

Nobody called her Callie anymore. Rather, they said her name in full -Calista. Callie was dead. She died with her father.