By Sabene Rizvi

Sara. It is my orphaned name. I didn't like it. My mother and father had left me at an old woman's doorstep with a note and a blanket.

A few days passed by and the old woman died. I was a helpless little baby who needed to be cared and all I could do was cry.

One of the old woman's neighbor peeked and saw her dead and saw me on the ground lying on that blanket. All she did was call 999 and she left when the ambulance came not looking back for a second at me.

The ambulance arrived and sent the old woman to the morgue and as for me, I was sent to the orphanage.

At the orphanage, there were tons of babies and everybody looked just like me.

Four years later, a letter arrived from my mother and father that they wanted me back and they arrived at the orphanage. I was happy and thought that we would be a family again.

When my parents arrived, I noticed that they were not with each other. My mom came with another man and my dad came with another woman and they both started arguing about who is going to take me to their home and then I overheard that they were divorced. So, I said that I was not going with either of thee.

Published in the Young Nation magazine on December 3, 2016