I watched the smile deepen on the face of Mother Teresa as I was called to the front of the line, my heart thundering in my chest. There were so many eyes on me and I had never felt so self-conscious. In the shadow of her passive-aggressive demeanor, a conversation unfolded. She feigned sweetness, saying, “Rue, dear, aren’t you looking stunning in that uniform? A perfect fit, just like the life we have provided for you here.” I resisted the urge to scoff, keenly aware of the underlying sarcasm, replying, “Thank you, Mother Teresa. I try my best to follow the rules and look presentable.” That was the only way to respond to her, with respect and humility. She was the owner and head of the orphanage. She owned us all. With an air of false concern, she continued, “Rules are crucial, especially for orphans like you. We must mold you into refined individuals, even if some need a bit more molding than others.” She cast a devious smile at me. I suppressed my frustration, nodded, and
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