AUTHOR'S NOTE: This historical fic is loosely based off several characters from the hit soap One Life to Live.

Also, I'd like to note that I do not own ABC's One Life to Live or the characters and I will NOT be receiving any payment whatsoever for writing this story. It is intended for entertainment purposes only.

Orphan

1893

"When a child of the streets stands before you in rags, with a tear-stained face, you cannot easily forget him. And yet, you are perplexed what to do. The human soul is difficult to interfere with. You hesitate how far you should go." – Charles Loring Brace

Marty Saybrooke was only seven years old when her life suddenly crashed, changing forever. That fateful day, her life shattered into a million pieces. Mrs. Mendallhall had came. She had to tell Marty the painful news; her parents had drowned in a boating accident.

At the tender age of seven, Marty Saybrooke had become an orphan.

"They're coming back, aren't they?" Marty asked, crushing her porcelain doll closer, cradling her lovingly against her chest.

"I'm afraid they're not, lovey. They're gone forever now. They're with the angels," stated the housekeeper.

"Wh- what will happen to me?" Marty asked sadly.

"I'll contact your aunt. She'll come," Mrs. Mendallhall promised. "You won't be alone in this world, dear Marty."

Silent tracks of tears trickled down Marty's cheeks, dropping onto her doll's sweetly painted face. "But I - I don't like Aunt Kiki," Marty said, a lump forming in her throat. "I want Mommy and Daddy. I NEED them."

"I'm sorry, child."

Mrs. Mendallhall gave Marty a tender hug. She did her best to reassure the grieving child, but she knew she had to get word immediately to Kiki. Kiki Saybrooke was Marty's only living relative. Surely Kiki would come; she would care for her brother's child.

After the housekeeper left, Marty was alone. The room was quiet. It seemed like a silent tomb.

The child walked to the piano. Her hair was a mess of blonde unruly curls. She took her place upon the slender bench. It was here that her parents had taught her to her to play the piano. It was here that they had loved her with all their hearts and souls. They had had a happy life.

What would happen to her now?

She lay her doll aside, her small fingers gliding over the keys. She played a fragment of a mournful tune, the notes reflecting the sadness she was feeling in her fragile heart. How far was Heaven?

Would she ever see her parents again? If not... how could she say goodbye?

How could she live when the only people who ever loved her had died?

*Will anyone ever love me again?* Marty was thinking.