Disapprovingly, he enunciated every word. “That. Is. Not. What. The. Board. Is. For.”
He walked back into the middle of the room. “Line up!”
The children jumped up and I knew he would find out it was Alexia. Robert knew it too. He looked on petrified for his sister. As he was about to speak, I did it for him. I wasn’t scared of Father. “It was me, Father. I wanted everyone to know who I was and that I was ready to love my new home.”
Father came down to my height with that walking stick.
“Well, well, boy. Aren’t you just adorable?” He could obviously sense the lie. He screamed, “Hands!”
Still dressed from the evening before, I quickly thought on my feet, aware of what he was looking for and wiped my hands against my already dirty clothing. Father knew what I was doing and gave me the death stare and laughed as I put my hands out.
“A warm welcome then, think yourself lucky you aren’t getting the cage for that.”
Then he came down on my hands with an almighty crack of his cane. Fire embodied my hands. Pain felt. I exhaled sharply but I had said to myself in the car the night before that I would not cry, and I meant it. My eyes watered, teeth chattered from the pain. Whack. He hit me six times.
“You know the rules, children. Don’t speak with a forked tongue, like a serpent. Don’t ever lie to me.”
Father looked at me both disappointed with my lie, but proudly for not breaking under the pressure. He muttered that what he said in the car was true, turned around and left.
The room was silent again, other than the chattering of my teeth. My hands were shaking so I paced up and down to take my mind off the pain. I looked at the board again and the arrow looked nothing like a cross. He just wanted another excuse to inflict pain for his own twisted pleasure.
“Seb.” I wasn’t really listening. “Seb!”
It was Robert. He came over to me with a face softer than when we were first introduced. “You didn’t need to do it. I would have said it was me and gone to the cage instead.”
I muttered a little, he came over and put his arm around me, then hugged me. He said he was lucky to have a little brother as strong as me, and that his sister had a new protector. He whispered his sister was all he had, in a childlike yet deeply loving fashion.
I suspected everyone had a similar story of grief and abandonment to have wound up here. Impressed by my bravery and unwillingness to quiz me the night before, the other children made up for it there and then and kept asking me question after question, curious who their new brother-in-arms was, and where I came from.
I shared what I knew about my parents and exhibited the watch I had, with my hands still shaking from pain. I struggled to press the button to open it so they could see the image of my mother inside, and it just resulted in more questions being asked.
“How did you get that in here?” Alexia quizzed with shock. “None of us have stuff like that.”
I told them the truth. I told them about the policeman that had the watch and how I took it back. It made some of the children laugh, thinking I had stolen it.
“You’re like Robin Hood!” one of the children proudly spoke up.
“Or a pirate that found treasure,” said another.
“You’re so cool,” said Alexia.
Smiling at the flattering comparisons of adventurous do-gooders and riotous sea-faring highwaymen, I felt quite proud. I didn’t have many friends growing up, as I was normally solving puzzles with my mother and out on family days. Here, I was like yin and yang in this new group of friends, brothers, and sisters. I was the cool one. It felt quite good; I’ll admit.
I continued my story about staying with Miss Battersby, then being with Madame. I said I was left in a cold cupboard with a dusty dog-bed. Three of the other children said they stayed in the same place; and like a brotherhood of lost and unfortunate souls, we bonded from the shared experience.
I told them I refused to let the watch go when she tried to take it and when she finally did, she eventually returned it.
“You are like a magician,” the first boy stated.
“How did you?” the second spat out.
“You are so brave, like a knight,” said the third.
I mentioned I angered Father in the car, then had a showdown and stared him right in the eyes before telling him I wouldn’t love him, which is why I said the blackboard was me.
Almost all the children were in shock at the revelation, and the fact Father hadn’t punished me by taking it and instead gave me advice on keeping things that were important.
In the space of a night, I went from being terrified by the glazed eyes in the room, to sharing experiences of hurt, pain, and strength, with the children around me.
We talked quietly for a while, only quietening down when it sounded like people got close by.
After feeling every emotion in the air while living with Madame, to the drive, and the walk through to my new bed, the atmosphere changed. For a short, sweet moment, I felt joy and elation. I was happy to have found similar lost souls and was determined to make the most of my time here.
I closed the watch to protect the image of my mother, much like I had protected Alexia from her inevitable punishment. My hands were still tingling from the beating I received but were feeling a little better.
The tutting of Father’s stick could be heard coming down the hallway. I stood and looked at the door, ready to once again show my bravery to the children by standing proud and tall. Then the tutting got quieter, as our room was clearly never the destination and he had bypassed us.
Other footsteps could be heard, and a beautiful young woman welcomed us instead. She was like an angel, with flowing black hair, a petite frame, and stunning smile. The children seemed happy to see her and she was welcomed by hugs from some of the kids. As soon as she was done greeting everyone, she could see I was the only one who stood back.
“Who might you be?” the mysterious woman questioned.
“That’s Sebastian,” Alexia said as she released her hug from the woman.
She walked up to me and extended her hand to me as though to shake it. She had a soft perfume scent that was so magnificent and so pleasurable, I’ve never found anything that compared.
Whether this woman was a flower in the desert and my senses were amplified in her presence, I’ll never know. All I know is everyone’s guard was down and all the children felt safe with her. If they felt safe, I knew I could as well.
She reached out, and with beautiful pearl-white teeth, she smiled at me. Her warm smile put me at ease, and I felt the love she had for the children here. I felt her passion, her pride, and her sheer adoration for the lost souls in her presence.
“Hi, Sebastian. I am Mallory. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
She sounded so proper. Her accent was very strange to me and not what I was used to. I could only mutter out a weak, shy hello. I felt so allured by her presence.
“Sebastian, you were the lovely lad I heard was coming last night. Cyril–”
The children reacted at his name and she didn’t notice.
“Left to get you but I had to go home before you arrived. You look exhausted, my little lamb. I think we will get you cleaned up and in some new clothes.”
She was probably the closest thing I had to a mother and I had only just met her. She shared a number of similarities to my real mother but was much younger. She couldn’t have been much older than twenty-five. She talked and her voice was soothing. It was soft and her accent accentuated the beauty of her words. She announced to the children it was time to eat and led us out of the dormitory.
Walking down the hallway behind Mallory was much different than with Cyril, err, Father. The room felt brighter, unlike the feeling of being devoid of joy the evening before.
I was learning the layout of the building following her. Seeing new rooms, new hallways, and then she opened double doors leading to a large canteen area. Some staff members were working behind a counter, clearly preparing
food for us.
It didn’t seem so bad after all. My welcome may have been tough based on how Father acted but this was the closest thing to home I was going to be able to get without the actual thing.
I was curious how often kids came and went within the facility. I didn’t ask as I felt as though I would be touching on sensitive ground after the situation the night before and truthfully didn’t want to disrupt the positivity going around the room.
Mallory spoke with the staff serving food and laughed, and the place felt rather joyous. To hear the sound of laughter felt good. I felt the elation in the room. The kids all felt at ease and were smiling as they ate from their bowls and plates depending on the choice they made at the counter.
Whatever happened the night before had to be an anomaly. This felt great, we got food, options on what food, and the people around us genuinely seemed to care.
As we ate, we laughed and engaged in mindless small talk, after all, we were kids; we were then told to go out in the garden and play.
We had so much fun. I was kicking a ball with Robert and Alexia, when suddenly, another boy Timothy tried to muscle in and ruin the enjoyment whilst screaming inanely. He kicked the ball with such force that it went to the other end of the garden and into a colourful bed of flowers.
The kids froze and I chased after it, unsuspectingly. I hadn’t realised I had crossed an invisible line. The rules of the garden had not been explained to me. I skipped along after the ball, realising it was the first bit of fun I had been privy to since my real father pushed me on that swing.
As the garden stretched on further, I ran past an outhouse with a small porch on it. It was immaculately decorated with flowers, varnished wooden panels, and rather pleasant on the eyes, unlike the dreary hallways the previous night.
I looked back to admire and from the corner of my eye, could see the other children had stopped. I challenged them. “The last one to the flowers is a rotten egg.”
No one reacted and I pushed on and started to clamber through the flowerbed to retrieve the ball. A small cross was in the soil beyond an array of beautiful flowers, including daisies, chrysanthemums, carnations, and a large, beautiful amaryllis. Each brought a splash of colour and happiness to the dreary garden, decorating the cross; seemingly a small memorial site.
Then he came.
I had never seen him before, but he had a chilling look about him. His face was full, with hamster-like cheeks, meeting to a pointed chin. His hair was bright white and wire-like, pointing out in all directions but kept in control on the top of his head thanks to a trilby. His face had layers and layers of wrinkles, stacking on his angered forehead like building blocks.
He grabbed me by the arm with such force that I protested with a whimper. He picked me up and raised me to his face.
“You dare come to my end of the garden and ruin my flowers! I should ruin you, boy.”
As he spoke, spit left his mouth through his missing front tooth and covered my face. I felt it splashing on my face as I recoiled in fear at the reprimand I was receiving. I thought Father had an evil look in his eyes, but this man was just as bad, only I felt a different kind of danger with him. He spoke as though he had conviction in his words; like he would hurt me. My fears hadn’t seemed unfounded, as the kids were quite quick to stay in what I learned to be our part of the garden.
As he shouted some more and showered me in sputum, it only served to alert Mallory, who was quick to run up to help.
“Get off of him,” she shouted as she slapped him on the side of his arm. Still at his eye level after being picked up, I kicked him in the stomach and he didn’t just drop me, he threw me to the ground so hard I twisted my ankle.
He swore at me and Mallory looked at me worryingly, assessing whether I’d been hurt. The strange man turned his attention to her, grabbed her by the wrist as she swung at him again and bellowed across the garden, “Don’t you dare touch me, you worthless slut. Maybe I should teach you a lesson later? I’ll get him to bring you to my cabin.”
Mallory immediately settled down and the strange man whispered in her ear. Her eyes widened in fear and I sensed how uncomfortable she was. She lowered herself to her knees to check I was okay and raised my leg. My ankle hurt badly, and I said as much. It started to throb, and she asked me where all my other bruises had come from. I said I didn’t know but had a feeling it came from the beatings Madame gave me, or the incident in the car with Father the night before.
The strange man, in the eeriest and most suggestible method possible, commented that being on her knees was the only thing Mallory was good for. I didn’t get the reference. He left and clambered back into his outhouse.
She looked on confused as to the origins of my bruises, clearly worried for me, as though she’d seen it all before. That’s when I knew she was going to look out for me, and I could trust her implicitly.
Without even thinking, I put pressure on my tender ankle to straighten myself out and jumped in to hug her. She seemed to appreciate it and I felt her mood change, as I held on as tight as I could. “Now, now, my little lamb, let’s get you inside and have a look at that ankle.”
The short belief I had, that this place might not be so bad seemed to quickly come crashing down. The mask was falling and the evil face that sat behind it was beginning to show. I’d enjoyed nothing more than a few hours of enjoyment and the only spark of decency and humanity seemed to be Mallory, and the kids I shared a room with.
She led me to a small office, and then lifted me up on to a gurney. A slight creak suggested just how old it was and the cushioned panels seemed tacky and worn. I looked over at an impressive, large medicinal cabinet. It was very ornate, with large glass panels revealing the contents inside. Held together by a small lock that Mallory could release with the small key she wore around her neck. She went inside and grabbed a bandage. I was asked to stay put and she left the room briefly.
It was peaceful for a while. I jumped to the floor and felt fire tingling up my leg. It didn’t seem so bad before, but the adrenaline was obviously pumping. I went over to explore the room, accompanied with a slight limp. I looked into the cabinet to see a wealth of different medicines and didn’t think much of it. I couldn’t read what most of the drugs were, as the names were too complex for my young mind. In fact, I could have sworn the labels on the bottles were just another complex cipher left behind by my mother.
My mother…
I pulled out the watch and pressed the button to see her face. It hadn’t been more than about a few weeks since the incident and I clearly felt quite raw. It made my heart sink thinking I was never going to see or speak to them again. I wondered how they would react knowing how I felt.
As I looked down at the watch, a slight glint out of the corner of my eye revealed a small air vent, at ground level. It was a slightly loose vent cover, and I pulled it back to reveal a small diary. I looked down at my watch and something in me felt that it was a weakness, an anchor that could be used to exploit me; and it felt prudent to hide it in that safe place, hoping it couldn’t be found.
I flicked through a few pages of the diary and tried to read some of it. A lot of the writing was tough to read and my abilities at that age were far beyond my years, but still not quite as honed as I would have hoped.
An excerpt from the diary read:
He did it again. He used me and I feel dirty. I want to hurt him as much as he hurts me. Thankfully I cannot have children again, since the last time. Just as well, because the thought of fathering his ilk makes me sick to my stomach. But I feel like I have to be here. I have to keep the kids–
At that point, Mallory came back in the room and rushed over to me, frustrated. She was panicking, as I had clearly stumbled upon her own treasure trove of memories.
“You shouldn’t be reading that, Sebastian.” She quickly pulled everything together and hurriedly closed the pages in front of me. “I told you to stay put,” she said in a raised voice.
The sadness in my e
yes clearly hit home and she quickly apologised for shouting and said that it wasn’t my fault.
“I… I’m sorry, Mallory,” I said, upset I had let her down and read her private thoughts.
She hugged me and said she obviously hadn’t kept the diary hidden well enough. She laughed and called me her little detective, a comment with hindsight, was suitably apt.
I pulled out my watch and showed Mallory the contents. “That’s my mummy.”
Mallory was flabbergasted. “How did you get that in here?”
I explained that Father let me keep it, much to her shock. She covered my hand with hers, keeping the contents nicely shielded.
“But I wanted to keep it safe. I don’t want someone to take it from me out there.”
“Oh, my little lamb, you beautiful little boy. Of course, you can hide it here. I’ll keep it safe for you. We can have our own little hiding place. Pinky promise?”
I stuck out my pinky and her full cat-like smile filled me with such hope. I hugged her again and she kissed me on the forehead, stroking my head like my mother did. It was my little slice of heaven, that moment. The safest I had felt in a long time.
“Now, where were we?”
She had left the room to grab some frozen peas. She wrapped the peas in the sheet of bandage and wrapped it around my ankle. The sting after jumping off the gurney, then the contrast of ice was mildly pleasing. The icy sharpness on my skin was enough to take away from the pain in my foot, leaving me quite placated.
“Why are you here, Mallory?” I asked innocently.
“I grew up here, Sebastian. Well, not here as in this building. This town. I never knew who my father was, but my mother knew the proprietor–”
“The who?” I interrupted, quizzically.
“The person who owns this place. He gave me the job and when she died, I was taken care of, at first. But, over time, things changed. That’s when I started to write in my diary. I couldn’t leave though, because I learned to love all of you.” She pressed on my nose and smiled as she said that.
“I take care of all of you children because I know what it feels like to have no one around. So, how did you end up here? If it’s okay to ask?”
Dancing With Devils Page 7