Through the Broken Window | Teen Ink

Through the Broken Window

January 26, 2016
By Bublebee18 BRONZE, Battle Ground, Washington
Bublebee18 BRONZE, Battle Ground, Washington
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

The window was small, and the sills were rusted. There was glass on the sills and the floor underneath  the broken window. It wasn’t an accident that the window was broken, it was broken on purpose. The window was just big enough for me to fit through. For the first time I was thankful that I wasn’t tall like Yaya or Shu. However I did get a few pieces of glass in my shins, that I ignored, not wanting to look weak in front of the caretakers. You may call me heartless, or even inhuman, for doing what I did without thinking or feeling, but, before you judge, you should know the facts. Then tell me, would you care, or be scared?

It was a normal day at the orphanage, well as normal as it got anyway. Sitting around doing nothing, just staring blankly at the wall in front of me. When one of the caretakers came in and said she needed help. Yaya, being the kind of girl she is immediately volunteered. “No” the caretaker said in Chinese, “I need someone who can see.” That only left me and Shu. Yaya and Fen were both blind. And there were babies, but they couldn’t walk. Shu however was quickly cut because she couldn’t walk, she was in a wheelchair. The only one able to help, was me. To help with what I didn’t know, but was about to find out.

“You know the old man to the left of your room?” She asked. “Yes” I knew which guy she was talking about because a week earlier I had stolen his shampoo that he hides under the stairs. I didn’t tell her that of course. “Well, he’s dead. He hasn’t come out of his room for at least 3 days now, maybe more, and he won’t answer his door.” She didn’t even try to mince her words for me, an eight year old. She just told it to me straight.  Dead. If I heard that word today about someone I knew, it would immediately make my blood run cold. Back then however, I could have cared less. I hadn’t the slightest notion that it was extremely sad, or freaky. It was just a word to me.

So there I was about to go through the broken window, not caring about the body that lay limp on the bed, not really noticing actually, I was there on a mission to make the caretaker happy, nothing else. Today though, I think it would be unnerving to crawl through the window of a dead man’s window. I think I would regret stealing his shampoo, but I had no idea what fear was, or regret, maybe I did. Maybe I just had learned to block it out and to shut down, when something frightened me. That’s what comes with living in an orphanage for eight years, no parents caring about how you feel or if you are scared.

Now that you know my reasons for not caring about someone dying, do you still think I’m heartless, or inhuman? What would you have done in that situation? Would you have gone along, or just be creeped out? We have parents that care about us, we should be thankful for that today. We take so much for granted now, and only think about what we get, that we don’t spend nearly enough time being thankful for what we do have. While we are trying to see if we can get that new computer today or some new clothes, somewhere else another kid is trying to find a place to sleep and food to eat so they don’t starve to death.



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