Mey waited for the moment that caretaker to move far away from the door. When she didn't so her anywhere, she looked left amd right. Back to her improvised mattress she took her blanker from the room for 10 persons. The halls were lit by phantom star. Her shadow showed up on the floor and she tried to mimick the hunched caretaker. She was evil, but is not as malicious as Scissors. To mimick Scissors it was enough a scissors which she woudn't touch. With big steps, without a sound is going up the stairs to the attic, hearing the cricket's melodies. They bring luck and sleep for sleepy persons. She was a sleepy person and she was lucky having a good place to sleep.

Large windows, covered with lila courtains which were touching the ground to hid the light. Somewhere on the ceiling it was a skylight for owls, to be more easy for them to go outside. Their place to sleep it was tree trunk, hanged there for some reason in a corner.
Where they built a small nest. Letting the blanket to fall from her hand go through soft blankets and pillows. These were placed like a low and large bed. It reminded you of a cat's bed. The tragic part was that they have to go down the stairs, not to be late for breakfast. A one delay was enough to get in troubles and then you wound end up in the fireplace's room. The punishment was to entertain the fatty caretakers, while they were eating pastries.
Refusing to cooperate means to recieve some hot coals in your head or a hot iron on the skin. Until now, she hadn't recieved such treatment, although there were reasons, and she knew they wouldn't touch her not even a second. She heard a sound coming nearby and there were two options: either an animal entered or a drunken caretaker. It was nothing new for them, and it was amusing to mix their coffee with wine or anything containing alcohol. After a minute, a scream erupted, then another and another. She hoped it was just her imagination, that no one was awake. She could check and investigate, then find out there was nothing suspicious. Alone there, in the dark, she wouldn't like it, so she woke up Ethan. Drowsy as he was, she pulled him along the corridor, complaining that she didn't feel like being a "Night Owl." A smoke started to suffocate her just taking a small breath. She coughed frequently, ran out of breath, and a quick source of air was an open window a bit further. She greedily inhaled the fresh air until she regained her senses. Ethan didn't seem affected, just sleepy and ready to return, but she stopped him, holding him tightly by the wrist. She made it clear she wouldn't let him go until he pleased her. He nodded and emphasized Tim's failed attempts at gastronomy. She doubted his words and didn't believe him.

The smoke had thickened, and they needed to get some air, the windows on their floor were wide open.

Under the moonlight, a flame was born, its tongue sticking out from the director's garage. Two figures emerged from the shadows, probably two children, holding a canister. Another silhouette caught one of them, while the other managed to escape.

The caretakers stood with dirty aprons, leaning against a wall, exhausted as if they had made a superhuman effort. The orphans gathered there to stare at the entire scene were chased back inside. The building was not directly affected, and there was no concern. Mey and Ethan ran across into their friend, Caro, who resembled with Firemouth and others too. At the shouted orders of the caretakers, they washed off their dirty clothes in the overcrowded bathroom. They couldn't exchange a word, but they quickly guessed the scheme.
On their way to the bedroom, they moved through the crowd, distancing themselves from the continued hustle among the little people. The opposite parte of the building is separated by two doors, stopped the echo of shocked voices.
First, Caroline burst into tears before boasting about her succes. The story began in the morning when the director chatted eagerly with two people in his office. The conversation flowed ahead with the most desired subject for someone: adoption. She heard her name recited, and her hopes almost grew fast.. Anyone would dream of that before the final version came first. Their legal age allowed them to leave, but where, how would they manage? The world was strange to them, full of caretakers ready to educate them with hot iron or coal. The dream shattered instantly. He refused to allow them to adopt her. Moreover, he almost threatened them with the police if they insisted. The two people didn't add a word. They whispered something about an illness she was supposed to suffer from.

Pff, he is sick! I have never been sick whole my small life! She screamed, couldn't care if she is screamed, not caring if they considered her crazy or worse. Let the night come, let it do its thing before it's too late. After lights out, full of enthusiasm, she sneaked in, imagining she had already accomplished the task. She rummaged through the old gardener's shed, pulling out a canister of gasoline and a box of matches suitable for her revenge. Caroline was impatient, not noticing the presence of another person nearby. Her breath caught, she put the objects next to her, ready to leave, but the nocturnal light revealed the danger. Tim, a distant relative, held a large bowl of milk in his hands and summoned his furry little cats. The scene was touching. Your heart melted from so much cuteness. Caroline thought she might spill it, even though when they were in trouble, she was the devil in front of him. Tim sensed her presence. His body began to tremble. He didn't want his only companions, in fact, friendly beings he cared for as best he knew how, to be "confiscated." Their fate didn't matter to the brunette, but she cared if she was caught or not. The bulb lit up, suggesting that he should help her. The first task was the fire, then to keep her secret forever. The feeling was in the air as when they were two 5-year-olds brats.

The garage didn't have a light bulb, just a gas lamp hanging from the ceiling. They didn't need to use it, so they poured gas over the car. Near it, in a puddle, they neatly placed a waxed string good enough as a wick. The small spark would go boom boom in a few seconds, and they would admire the show from outside. Her revenge would soothe her shattered soul into pieces, as if she cared about leaving this wretched place. Running sounded healthy, but it was better with a companion. They moved away from the wick as fast as they could, encountering a second light. The flaslight held by the caretaker almost blinded them, and they were about to leave. Caroline evaporated in the air before being discovered. Poor Tim was taken up and dragged inside for a special treatment. Mey and Ethan remained stunned by the new nighttime news. They could hardly think about it. Fatigue put an end to their discussions, dozing off on the floor again. Mey was troubled by the question of whether the scream she heard earlier was Tim's or not.
It was strange that nothing could be heard anymore. The water calmed down too fast. They have to move their legs and to feed their curiosity. Her intuition guided to the fireplace's room, where the punishments were carried out. The hair on your skin rose in horror. Who doesn't know about the "massacres" is trapped in the web of nightmares like a fly.
Unfortunately, the story ends with suicide. An thrown chair, a rope attached to something above and unusually it was a knife and some bite marks on the arms. The best and safest thing was to avoid passing in front of that cursed door. She doesn't believe in fairy tales, prefering to see with her own eyes, not to get lost in darkness. The celestial body superficially lit the hallways, later hiding behind clouds near Hell. Steps led her to the peephole.
It was placed too far for her to see anything through it. She felt the door coming over her. The wind, entering through a window, pushed it.
On the huge carpet in front of the fireplace, the punished one stood, being grabbed from below by a sleeve, ready to be thrown out. That brute didn't notice her at first, giving her time to help Tim stand on his feet. From behind, the monster's hasty footsteps were heard, grabbing a new prey. In a corner, they lost its trace, probably giving up the idea. She woke up the dazed one and put flour on his not too serious burns, asking him not to wipe it.

–Thanks for the care. I hope it won't hurt anymore.

–Only if you burn yourself again.

–I don't think we'll end up again there, you know the story.I

–t's just an invention. It didn't happen.

–What do you know? You weren't here back then. Now you'll convince yourself!

–What do you mean?

–It was a kid. He got into trouble every day, probably because of his scattered mind. And he was weaker than everyone else and always ended up being the scapegoat. I can't say if anyone hated him, but moking him was the order of the day. This reminds me of myself and Caroline, but Vincent, let's call him that, was also unlucky. A few weeks before leaving the orphanage, he was taken to the fireplace's room. No one remembers the cause, but he had surely done something unforgivable. The next day, after a night that seemed like the ghosts had entered with screams, I went to see if he was still alive.
Entering the room I realized that Vincent had taken his own life. Hanging from the curtain bracker, his shadow fluttered on the floor. How was it possible for him to do such a thing, or maybe those devils...? That's what we all wondered, but it was clear. He decided on his own because he hoped to find out what freedom he talked about and chose to touch this. It haunts me that if the idea had come to me earlier, he wouldn't be dead.

–Did you want to stop him?

–How?

–Were you aware he would do such a thing?

–I'm not sure. He never mentioned any way to experience freedom. I don't understand what prompted him...

–Freedom, what else.

–Would you take revenge for him?

–I think time did it in my place. One's life is paid with another, and that happened.

–Let me guess, the caretaker, right?

– Yes, and he closed his eyes tight, as always. Mey pats him on the shoulder and gives him a smile. She wanted to see him holding his head high. She would like to confess to him that he was strong, resisting the loss. She wonders what she had lost, not understanding the pain blooming within her.

© BlairAmy
#death #suicide #lost #fire #adoption #pain
PS: ...um, well, I don't know how this story turned in this way, but I promise is the last time..