Chapter III

The pain woke him up. The stripe on his back was burning like fire. It was chilly in the shelter, which made Michael shiver with cold. He had a thick blanket on, but still could not get warm enough. Every movement made his pain even stronger. Without moving, however, it was almost impossible to stand the bitter and unbearable cold. Michael felt dizzy and could not get rid of the nauseating feeling.

It was the second night since he had regained consciousness. He was half awake and half deluded and did not know what was happening around him. Michael was suffering from a fever, but could not force the caregivers to send him to the doctor. Auntie Louisa never brought doctors for whipped children...

The creaking door made him aware of someone entering the room, but his mind was so shrouded in darkness that he could not tell whether a familiar body was standing in the doorway or not. The person was moving slowly and painfully, but in the end, he reached for Michal and stretched out something to him. “Drink it!” Michael heard from far away and discerned a shape of glass in the stranger’s hand. The weakened Michael almost dropped the glass, but the visitor helped him and Michael sipped some liquid.

The blunt liquid burned down his throat and Michael felt the heat in his stomach, too. The back pain died out as heavy eyelids drew over the fading walls like shades.

Sleep drifted him far away. He thought he dreamed of something, but he could not recall what he had dreamed about waking up. Michael hardly ever remembered his dreams, even though he always knew he had dreamed about something important. He could only perceive the significance of his dreams for several seconds and after that, they turned into memories.

The back did not hurt Michael that much; he was not cold either. Despite the still persistent dizziness, he felt much better. He sat upon his bed. There was no one but him in the room. He remembered someone gave him the drink. Although his mind was still hazy, it could not have been a dream. It did not seem like one, though Michael could barely remember his dreams, anyway. Michael touched his own back and felt some herbs stuck to it. He was feeling much better; it was impossible to recover so fast without medical help.

So the answers lay in the herbs and the drink that the visitor gave me,–thought Michael.

No one had ever helped Michael in the shelter and now, when he was searching for the reasons for someone helping him, he felt an extremely unfamiliar emotion that people call gratitude. Why would anyone want to help him? asked Michael himself endlessly until he realized that only by sitting there and asking questions to himself he would not get the answers. He climbed down from the upper berth of the bunk bed with difficulty, put on the clothes scattered around the room, breathed deeply, and staggered towards the door. He then walked down the hall with faded brick walls on one side and the boys’ dormitories on the other. Michael stopped at the door where the new guy was sleeping, then opened the door carefully and stared at him for a while.

“What do you want?” the new boy, with a bandage around the head, did not open his eyes. He must have felt that someone had stopped at his bed and was watching him.

“Was it you who gave me that drink?”

The kid did not answer; he was lying quietly with his eyes closed and breathing slowly.

“Michael!” He heard his name shouted in the hall and quickly closed the door.

“What are you doing here?” The caregiver’s tall figure appeared from the corner of the hall and approached Michael. The caregivers wore similar clothes in the shelter. They were all tall and slim, except Auntie Louisa. Michael wondered how they had gathered all the like-minded bastards as caregivers.

“What are you doing here?” She repeated.

“Nothing. I felt better, so I walked a little,” answered Michael.

The caregiver cracked the door.

“You should feel remorse,” she interpreted the boy’s actions herself. “Let’s go! If you feel so good, attend the academy.” The caregiver headed for the exit of the shelter after they had climbed down the creaky steps. They went out into the garden.

Academy, the old brick building, standing next to the shelter, was in no sense better in appearance if you asked for Michael’s opinion.

Attending the lessons was compulsory for children. They listened to boring subjects all day long, so Michael did not enjoy going there. He crossed the yard together with the caregiver and entered the stone hall crammed with kids. Suddenly the hall went deadly silent. Surprised at this silence, Michael first looked at the children, then at the caregiver. Everybody stared at him weirdly, perhaps surprised, but he could also feel something different, something he could not identify. They stood like this for a while. Then the teacher remembered to permit him to sit down, and she pointed to a vacant seat with her stick.

Michael tried to listen to the teacher but in vain: she was boring, talking about some tedious things. He could not understand why he had to learn about the history of the Arc De Ludgar family, why they were rightful monarchs, while other people (apart from their Lords) were to be their obedient servants. On top of all this, they forced people to be grateful for their lot. Why did Michael have to sing their anthem after each lesson and why was Lord Ryan the selectee of omniscient Rahail, when Lord Ryan’s father had killed the legitimate heir and forcibly taken over the throne? If omniscient Rahail was omnipotent too and he only had one favorite selectee, why would he give the Royal throne to him? Michael understood a few things, but he was clever enough not to ask questions. He could only think freely and used this freedom as much as he could.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Michael sat on the chair until the teacher stopped talking and they all sang the anthem together. Next, the kids headed to the hall exit, and he mingled with them, trying not to run into Derek or the other boys. He knew they would not dare attack him in the daylight, in front of the teachers, but still...

Most of the kids usually spent an hour’s break in the garden. A solid stone wall surrounded the garden so that one would not even think about escaping. Maybe that’s why caregivers paid little attention to the kids playing in the yard.

Michael loved being on his own, so he walked to the wall. He leaned against the white brick wall; it felt cold; he then slipped down and slumped on the ground.

“She was my sister”, said Simon and his chin trembled.

“I know”, replied Michael with a lump in his throat. He had not finished the sentence when he saw the right fist coming his way, however, he did not move. This blow was unusually slow compared to the previous ones, but still...

“Stop it, Simon, it’s not his fault at all”, Derek sounded as if he was angry with himself. This was the first time he had ever said anything in Michael’s favor. The first and the last time...

Michael felt the firmness of the wall, and he looked ahead into space. Remnant winter clouds covered the Sun in the spring sky. Huge sycamore trees behind the shelter swayed in the wind idly, still giving off the cold winter smell. The faraway building domes could be seen between the waving branches of the trees. The domes radiated something wintery, something that could barely blend into spring. Suddenly, he wished he were in the harbor. He wished he could watch the sea waves and let his feelings sail into the open sea with them...

Elaina was picturesque that night. She had bluish, slightly scared eyes. Her leaf-colored hair was slightly tousled after a nap. She looked slim and transparent in the candlelight.

“Only these have blue eyes”, Louisa’s emotionless voice was heard distinctly. “He has excellent features.” the hand turned up Michael’s chin, “but today I need a girl”- the stranger was holding the walking stick in his right hand...

Still sitting on the grass, Michael felt a chill. Shivering violently, he walked away from the wall and headed towards the shelter. There still was some time left before the lesson started. An ugly building, one of the ugliest buildings, was empty. Most of the caregivers were in the garden, not afraid of getting caught. Michael ran down the corridor and opened the door without knocking.

“It was you then”, Michael no longer asked a question the boy with a bandaged head, lying in bed. The boy opened an eye that was green and deep and, without saying a word, he closed it again. Michael walked to the window. He stood quietly for some time, then turned around and walked back to the door.

“Why didn’t you scream?” the question made him stop in the doorway.

“What?”

“When you were being punished... I was watching from the window. Why didn’t you scream?”

“I don’t know... It’s not that simple to explain...”

“I think you do.” awkward silence followed these words, disturbed by the slammed door.

“Where do you sneak off to?” Elaina asked him for the first time. She had just arrived at the shelter and had not even been on the Sunday trips. They went off to the harbor and Michael wandered away from the group with nobody noticing it; at least, that’s how he thought...

He was lying on the bed, still fully dressed. It was cold. The spring had set in only on the calendar; darkness and biting chill were peeping through the window. The moon rarely escaped from under the thick clouds and if it did, it soon hid behind them again, as if it had seen something embarrassing. There was something that disturbed Michael, something that had nothing to do with the cold.

“May Rahail, dammit!” Michael muttered quietly and got up. He quickly put on his shoes and opened the door. Although the hall was lit with candles, the light was not bright enough. He slowly strolled down in the pale, flickering lights of the dimly lit hall. Leaving the room, he realized it would be difficult to find the right door. He was not sure whether it was the third or the fourth door, and reaching the far end of the corridor, he counted the doors from there. When he approached the third door, he listened to the noises behind it. He could hear people’s breathing, which meant it was not the right room. He crept to the fourth door, stopped and listened again, then carefully opened and then quietly closed it behind him.

The light pouring from the window was so faint that Michael could hardly see the shapes of the furniture.

“I know you are not asleep,” said Michael softly.

“Why are you here?” He heard the question also asked in a soft voice.

“You asked me something today!”

“Yes, I did.”

“It’s difficult for me to answer...”

“I know, at least try...”

“It’s a long story...”

“Start from the beginning.”

And Michael started...

He did not start with the episode of the fight. He started from his Sunday trips and ships. Then he mentioned a girl named Elaina, connecting the fights to her. One night that girl was taken from the shelter...

Michael realized he had stood up while talking. His voice was trembling, and he felt a lump stuck in his throat. Despite the tremendous effort, it was extremely difficult to hold his emotions back.

He continued talking about everything that was happening in the shelter. He told the boy how once every month someone would come to the place and take the girls of 12-13 away.

The caregivers knew everything, but did nothing to avoid it. They punished kids for slight misbehaviors by making them stand on grains for hours...

“That’s why I did not scream then.” Michael stopped talking. This silence gave him the feeling of both emptiness and freedom. Michael waited for a while before he noticed he was sitting on the stone floor again. When he was about to stand up, he heard the other boy speak, “My name is not Michael. I am Lucius. I just read that name on the list and gave it to the caregiver when they asked me.”

Still sitting on the floor, Michael looked up at the bed.

“Why did you lie?”

“It’s not that easy to explain,” he smiled.

“Try it,” replied Michael.

Lucius did not explain himself that night. The silence continued for a long time. Michael got up from the floor, walked to the door, and slowly opened it so that he could sneak out, but before he left he asked calmly: “Why did you come with that trio to beat me?”

“I wanted to feel something, but it didn’t work out for me.”

There was a scream, the morning scream, slightly different from all the other sounds. Michael had not slept that night and in the morning he heard this loud scream, the sound somehow similar to the shattering of the glass, or rather, to the window pane breaking in the empty house...

That night, or that morning, to be more precise, the whole shelter was up, both the caregivers and the children. Michael tried to make his way down the crowded corridor. The scream had already quietened down, but he instinctively knew which way to go.

The sun had already risen, and its rays poured through the window, brightening up the room. Michael could see a sheet hanging down from the ceiling like a rope and on this rope. The open eyes were tinted blue, and the body looked slim in the sunlight too... thus it can’t have been because of the candlelight...