come for me

 

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January 4th, 1939

Mother dropped me off today. What is today? She said she was sorry, and left me with a woman. A woman with claws. At least, that's what the other children say. The headmistress Eleanor.

 The cook gave me some chocolate after Mother left, but I gave it to the sickly one, Agnes. She coughed all day. Some of the boys are saying that a war will start soon. I only believe Charles. Him and Agnes are the only ones that are kind to me in this strange place. There are holes in the walls where some of the children hide their sweets. Agnes asked me to put the chocolate there so we can share it later. I hope the mice don't get to it first. I wonder when Mother will come to get me. The headmistress has lots of yummy foods in her office- I saw today. But the boys are saying that the food is made out of misbehaving children. In fact, one of the boys went missing a few years back. Charles told me that he was a troublemaker. I hope Mother comes to get me soon. The boys are cruel here. I shall start writing letters to her everyday. Unless she comes to get me. 

I hope she comes to get me. 

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January 8th, 1939

The chocolate went stale today. Can chocolate go stale? I've been here only three days and I wish Mother will come. The boys are telling me that a man killed her. A man! It's just been the two of us for ages. I'm sure that she'll come soon. Perhaps she has some buisness to attend to. Charles thinks that Agnes is dying. I hope not, but Charles has been right ever since I got here. He guessed that I have no father, and he guessed my name before I told him! Agnes is being moved to another ward, and I feel sad. Many of the children here are sad a lot. They say that their parents are never coming back for them, and neither is Mother coming back for me. But I know they are wrong. They have to be.

Today the clawed woman called me into the office. The food smelled delicious, but I didn't dare try to take any. She says, Elizabeth, how are you doing? And I just stare at her. How does she expect I am doing? Without Mother, I am alone. She takes my dress away and gives me a new one. It doesn't look new, though. It is grey and stained and smells like cows. Cows! She also gave me a nightdress, but it isn't much better than the day dress! It is all stiff and itchy. I miss my old clothes.

Mother better come for me soon.

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January 10th, 1939

Mother didn't come today. Charles is starting to warn me that she might not come at all. Maybe she won't. The boys are taunting me so much that I just started staying inside of Agnes's new private ward. Agnes is getting worse. She could barely speak today, but she told me I should go out to enjoy the air. The air inside of the big old house is musky. I saw mould under the sink yesterday, and I'm warning the boys to stop talking about taking food from Eleanor. Even worse, they are threatening to tell her that I am the one stealing from her. Yes, there is someone stealing from her. It isn't just food. The thief is taking jewellery and valuables. I suspect that it is the cook, but I will never say anything because she is so kind to me. Yes, kind! Perhaps she also wants to end up pinning it all on me. Charles is starting to call me Beth. It's making me feel special, because no one else calls me that.

Agnes found this journal today. She looked through it and put it back, and later confessed that she did so. I'm glad that she did. She is a good friend. I'm wondering whether she will ever see Polands beautiful mountains again, and now I feel miserable again. It isn't fair that she has to be ill, when the rest of us can run and play, although I don't feel like doing that lately. When I am not thinking of my two friends, I am thinking of Mother. Although I am only fifteen years old, Mother always told me I am wise beyond my years. I keep repeating her final words to me in my head. Perhaps if I repeat them enough times, I'll find out why she left me here with these horrible children and strange headmistress. 

Today the maid was cleaning outside my room and I heard her sniffling. Sniffling. What a strange word to write down on paper! Such a strange word in general, but it describes what she was doing rather well. She was not crying, but still making sad noises. Sniffling. See? Strange.

Dear G d, I hope Mother comes for me soon.

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January 15th, 1939

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January 16th, 1939

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January 18th, 1939

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January 20th, 1939

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January 25th, 1939

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February 2nd, 1939

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~

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