The Red

Chapter 7

I bolt upright in my bed, a little squeak escaping my mouth.

What? Where-?

I look to my right. Jill is sleeping on her bed, breathing softly and evenly.

Oh. I'm at the orphanage.

Not the flashbacks, I think. Not again.

It's Stephano's fault for making me think about it. It's the newspaper's fault for putting death on my mind.

I close my eyes after I've become a little more calm. I realize that I'm sweating. I throw my covers off and walk to the door. I open it and sit at the top of the stairs.

Down below, I can hear he orphanage's only baby, Helen, crying. I can't hear everything, but I imagine Cathy is cradling her and shushing her.

I listen for other noises. I can somewhat pick out the sound of the refrigerator humming.

The flashback I just woke up from has brought everything back. The confusion, the hope, the loss, the pain, the emptiness. The wound has just reopened, the damage still done.

I allow myself to cry silently as I sit. It needs to be done now, when no one is around to see.

Once the tears come, they just want to come heavier. I listen for more sounds, something to distract me.

But Helen has stopped crying. So, I listen to the refrigerator instead.

After a few minutes, I hear a new sound. A clicking sound. That's it - a very fast clicking sound.

What is it?

I move further down the stairs, quietly. Soon there is no longer a wall to my left, but an iron railing.

I cover my mouth before I gasp. I'm not shocked, just a little surprised to see Stephano's bald head less than a foot away from me.

He is sitting on the couch closest to the stairs. Luckily, his attention is absorbed by a shiny black laptop, the screen aglow. By the looks of it, he is composing an email. The clicking appears to be his fingers flying across the keyboard.

I have a decision to make. Do I try to see what he's typing? Or do I behave and go to bed? I could get caught either way.

Before I even make an official decision, my neck is craned to see around Stephano's head, and onto the screen. The subject of his email is: "Inspection: Day 1".

Oh! Maybe I can find out if Cathy did something wrong!

My mind is doing a little victory dance. I must find out what his man is saying about my home.

My home. If someone told me at thirteen that I'd be calling Madame Catherine's Orphanage "home", I wouldn't believe them. Partially because I wouldn't have thought an orphanage could ever be my home, and partially because it would be extremely weird for someone to tell me my future emotions.

I look at the screen, grateful for my sharp eyesight. The time in the corner reads 2:37. Why is he sending a report at this time of night?

To: mark.green@umail.com
From: fanomono@umail.com
Cc: cruisinsusan@umail.com
Sub: Inspection: Day 1

I have to bite my lip really hard to hold in laughter before returning to the email.

The Cace girl doesn't seem to know much. She told me that her parents died in a car crash. I never got a chance to meet with Catherine on the matter, but I do have six more days.

The girl doesn't appear to know who we are, but something still needs to be done, yes?

I'll be sure to keep you updated.

~Fano

A chill goes up my back.

They aren't here to inspect the orphanage. They're here to inspect me. He knows what really happened to may parents. He knows.

How does he know? Who is he? What is he doing here?

He closes his laptop and stands. I scramble to my feet and begin to slowly step backward up the stairs, never letting him leave my sight. He's not directly in front of the stairs; thank goodness. But he begins to turn around, and I do my best to flatten myself against the wall, my heart threatening to pound itself right out of my chest.

I'm flooding with relief when he turns around. I have never been more thankful for carpet than during this moment, as I rush up the stairs and into the dorm.