Chapter 4 Four

Chapter 4: A Glimmer of Belonging

The first few days at St. Jude's were... weird. Not bad weird, just different. I guess I was expecting something cold and miserable-metal bunk beds, creepy hallways, people yelling all the time. You know, like in those old movies where orphanages look like prisons with wallpaper. But this place? It wasn't like that at all.

It was kind of loud, sure, and chaotic sometimes, but not in a scary way. More like... a family you didn't expect to have. Ms. Reed ran the whole place like she was everyone's grandma-not the strict, no-hugs kind, but the warm, always-has-cookies kind. She had rules, but she wasn't mean. And when she looked at you, it felt like she saw you, not just some number in a file.

My room was small, but it had a real bed. With soft sheets. And a desk. And a little lamp shaped like a bunny that someone must've left behind. I didn't even care that the drawers squeaked when you opened them. For the first time ever, I had a door that locked. No one barged in. No yelling through the walls. Just quiet. Mine.

That first night, I couldn't sleep. Not because I was scared, but because it was too quiet. No clinking bottles, no shouting, no sirens outside the window. Just the sound of the wind through the tree outside and the soft tick of the old clock in the hallway. I kept staring at the ceiling, thinking maybe it was all a dream. That I'd wake up back in that gross little closet room behind the kitchen.

But morning came. And I was still there.

Breakfast on the first day was nerve-wracking. The dining room was packed. Kids everywhere-some older, some younger. People were laughing, arguing over cereal, trading banana slices like they were gold. I sat at the end of one of the tables, clutching my tray like it might float me away. I kept my head down and ate fast, like I always used to, just in case someone changed their mind and told me to leave.

Nobody did.

Some of the other kids glanced over, but no one said anything mean. One boy spilled milk all over the table and everyone just started laughing, not yelling. A little girl near me offered me a napkin with a shy smile. I nodded, not trusting my voice.

Then, a couple days later, they sat with me.

Liam and Chloe.

I remember that morning perfectly. It was cloudy out, and I was picking at my toast, pretending I wasn't staring at the wall. Then someone slid into the seat across from me. I looked up and saw this guy-probably sixteen, seventeen-dark hair all messy like he didn't care, eyes sharp like he noticed everything. He didn't say anything at first, just looked at the plate between us with one last piece of toast left. Then he pushed it toward me.

"Go on," he said, voice low and kind of gruff. "You look like you need it more than I do."

I blinked. Was that a joke? Or... was he being serious?

Before I could say anything, this girl plopped down next to him. Bright eyes, big grin, wild red curls like a tumbleweed of energy. "He's secretly a softie," she said way too loudly, elbowing him with a giggle. "Probably planned for there to be one piece left just for you."

Liam rolled his eyes, looking a little pink around the ears. "Chloe, seriously. You're gonna scare her."

I didn't know what to do. I kind of smiled, but it felt weird on my face. "I'm Elara," I said, my voice all rusty.

"Chloe!" she chirped, sticking her hand across the table like we were old friends. "And that grump over there is Liam. Don't let his tough guy act fool you-he's basically a walking encyclopedia."

Liam grunted, but gave me a small nod. "Nice to meet you, Elara. Welcome to the circus."

That was the start.

From then on, Liam and Chloe sort of became my people. I didn't even realize it at first, but it happened naturally. They didn't push or ask a bunch of questions. They just showed up.

Liam was the kind of person who didn't say a lot, but when he did, it was usually something smart or funny in a sarcastic way. He showed me stuff like which cabinets to avoid in the kitchen (one had a loose hinge that smacked your fingers), where to hide out if you needed quiet, and how to sneak extra toast without the younger kids catching you.

Chloe was the opposite-loud, bubbly, always moving. She talked about everything: books she loved, the dreams she had, how she once thought clouds were made of whipped cream. She dragged me into conversations and games before I could say no, and somehow... I didn't want to say no.

One afternoon, the three of us were hanging out in the common room. Chloe was trying to teach me this ridiculous hand-clapping game that had like fifteen moves and some kind of weird song about a lemon tree. I kept messing up, and she kept laughing until we both collapsed onto the floor.

"You're getting better!" she gasped between giggles, "That's only the fifth time you clapped your own face!"

I rolled my eyes but couldn't stop smiling. I hadn't laughed like that in... I don't even know how long. Maybe never.

Liam was in the corner, pretending to read some thick math textbook, but I caught him looking up more than once. His mouth twitched, like he was trying not to smile.

That moment stuck with me.

For the first time, I wasn't scared of when the laughter would end. I wasn't waiting for someone to yell or ruin it or tell me I didn't belong. I just was. Sitting there on the floor with Chloe snorting with laughter beside me, and Liam giving me that small, real smile from across the room... it felt good.

Safe.

Like maybe this wasn't just a stop on the way to something worse.

Like maybe it was a beginning.

The scars from before-emotional ones, the kind no one sees-they were still there. I could feel them if I sat too still for too long. But they didn't feel like chains anymore. More like old bruises that were finally healing.

And that night, when I went to my little room and closed my very own door behind me, I didn't feel alone.

I felt... okay.

Maybe even like I belonged.

.