Catrina lived in a rather miserable place called Mary Rickerson's Orphan Home.

The girls lived in one half of the building, and the boys in the other. There were two men, Mr. Ladderby and Mr. Froly, who owned the building. Mr. Froly was the nicer of the two, but he took care of the boy's side of the place.
         Catrina had no friends, no life, no parents, and no love. What was the point of life? She wasn't suicidal, she just couldn't think of a reason.
         She had snuck off to the beach that afternoon when the other children were getting ready for their daily run. They were not always kind to her. In fact, some of them were downright mean. It's what an orphanage can do to you, she thought. 
          "Speaking of kids," Catrina said to herself, absent-mindedly, "wasn't there going to be a new admission?" She picked at her shoe, which was coming apart. " Oh well. I guess they aren't coming today." She appeared lost in thought for a moment, then added, "Maybe they would be nice. Maybe I would finally have a friend. Maybe they would be an outcast. Like-" she paused, then admitted it. "Like me."
         Suddenly she heard a voice behind her.

The End

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