1 PROLOGUE

Growing up in an orphanage but not being an orphan isn't always easy, from being bullied by the other orphans or coworkers of your mom to being hated for not being an orphan like them. Though the orphanage got some pretty nice people to stand up for me when mother wasn't around. My beautiful, nice, one in a million mother, Isabelle Johnson. I've always felt like I was a kindred spirit with some of them while some I avoided totally.

The orphanage La Abyss was said to have been built by a French man in the eighties. The orphanage is a really big one and it is the government that pays it's workers since the French man left, it isn't something to dispense easily. Most the workers were educated, at least having an o level certificate. My mother was one of the senior staffs because she's a graduate from the varsity which earned her respect from patrons and visitors alike. For a child that has never met his father, I was relatively happy.

I was four years old when mother got pregnant again. You might wonder why I said again, mother had a miscarriage the previous year and I've never seen a man with her, my mother couldn't have been another virgin Mary, that was sacred. I was young so I didn't understand any of those things and frankly, I didn't care. Mother always shunned me when I told her I wanted a daddy so naturally I stopped asking though I later on met my biological father after mother died. I always wish he hadn't shown up to scar me with his presence for life.

My mom's pregnancies somewhat diminished our worth, especially after her second pregnancy and nobody was coming as her boyfriend or father of the child, they started calling us all sorts of names. The backbiting that was no louder than an ant's step turned into a beehive's buzzing though nobody dared to say anything to her face. Mother was always worried about me affected by all the noise but she never brought home a daddy so there was no silencing it. I hear her cry herself to sleep sometimes. For an unmarried woman to have a child and be pregnant again with no family or spouse was not a good place to be at all.

Call it intuition or otherwise, even if I heard something bad about my mother or being insulted and bullied because of her state, I never say anything, never expressing my feelings or thoughts. I became a recluse at a very young age living in my head. We lived in a mini flat not far from the orphanage but only a handful of people ever visited. My mother pretends not to be affected by everything at work but in the confines of her home, all facade crumbles.

Mother's best friend and only constant person in our lives was a banker. They have been friends since their university days and like mother, she was unmarried but with no kids or pregnancy which had always made me curious as a child. She hated mother's job at the orphanage, hated her coworkers and was always giving the talk about how mother was wasting her degree, youth and time. They'd always argue about this at all meetings.

"You have a lot of potential, you're just getting wasted here", Aunty Sarah would say fuming;"Do you know how many jobs I already got for you, jobs that pay ten times the salary you get at the orphanage".

Mom almost always fires back with something about the fact that the kids at the orphanage need someone to always be there for them, that she enjoys her job and it is her responsibility. Well, this was true until after she got pregnant the second time and everybody started judging her. Mother would snatch any opportunity to change the conversation and Aunty Sarah always let it go. My friends as at then were some of the kids at the orphanage, no parent outside wanted their kids to associate with me cause I was the " prostitute's child" but I didn't care. I was just four and they already passed judgement so strong. At that age, as long as I've got my cookies and sweets, I was in heaven. The bullies never got physical, just verbal but I never let it get to me.

Mother got heavier by the day, life was sweet and the little kiddo living in oblivion that I was, I was happy. At that point in anyone's life, good food and loving is all that is needed, not the materialistic stuffs we end up pursuing. The first five years of my life was unforgettable. Mother was always hungry though she craves for a certain type of food and I was her assistant devouring machine. Mother said we were eating to make the baby grow healthier and I ate as much as I can. Funny enough, we never lacked for anything though I didn't think of this then, for a single mom who has a job that could barely feed us for a month, we were doing pretty well.

Regardless of the rumors and the backbiting everywhere, we always had help at the orphanage as well as home. By the time I clocked five years, mother was eight months gone and we did celebrate it, just the two of us with some cakes and ice cream, every moment with my mother was fun. My beautiful, fair, kind, one in a million mother.

Six weeks after my birthday, mother went into labor and didn't come out, neither did our supposed very healthy baby. I was in the neighbor's car that faithful evening, he has taken us to the hospital. I saw her cry in pain, I saw her get carried into the hospital and heard her say she'll be fine...

...That was the last I heard from her and later on, Aunty Sarah said she turned to an angel.