Page 15 of A Whisper of Cinders

I shake my head. It’s been a week since I had that daydream or vision, or whatever it was that I saw in the lounge area. I look at Ami, the expression on my face making her smile slowly fade away. “Are you okay, babes?”

I take her in, my beautiful Ami. How do you tell your best friend that the place you are both living in has finally taken your sanity? “I-I’m not sure.”

The new arrivals have disappeared inside and I start moving.

“Mai?”

I keep walking, but look over my shoulder as I say, “I’m sorry Ami, I need to go to the infirmary. I’ll see you at lunch?”

She murmurs something I can’t hear, but I keep walking. I need to contain myself so that I don’t start running. My appointment with Miss Sophia is not until tomorrow, but I’m not sure if I can wait that long.

The infirmary is busy on days like this and my edgy attitude would not help the scared children that are already near the point of breaking. So I take a couple of deep breaths, somewhat calming down, and walk in when I feel like I have everything under control. Sort of.

As per usual, the infirmary is divided in three sections: the waiting area where tears roll down cheeks and hearts beat way too fast, the examination room where Doctor Herbert examines every child and the third and last room, the one they all dread the most; sweet Mary’s room and her electric razor.

She is the last one they see and they leave as a ghost version of themselves. My task is to distract the poor souls, talk to them, tell them stories. Anything to keep them from thinking about the horrors some of them will have to go through.

Every time Mary turns on the machine, shoulders move upward, and I get it. I really do, because even at the age of sixteen the sound scared me. It’s too loud, echoing against the white walls and it takes a little piece of what is familiar away from us.

“No need to worry, nurse Mary will give you a haircut similar to mine.” I run my fingers through my short, curly locks and I see some of the tension leave their tiny bodies. “It’s an unfortunate but necessary precaution, all the boys and girls here have a haircut like mine.”

I do my best to ease their fear, and talk about the pretty, snowy landscape and the frozen pond and how kind the Doctor is. I wish I knew a childhood story on days like these. But all I know is steamy romances and I’m not creative enough to create my own story.

And although my mouth doesn’t stop moving, the little blond guy that fell outside is visibly trembling. He sits at the outer side of the bench and I grab a chair and sit next to him. I do a quick overall scan, see how his hands are bleeding, and notice there is a tear in the left leg of his jeans.

“Hi there, my name is Maily,” I say softly, but he keeps his gaze cast down on his fidgeting fingers. “I see some blood on your hands, are there other injuries I cannot see?”

First, I don’t think he’ll answer but after a couple of seconds he shakes his head once.

“Can I take a closer look at your wounds and clean them if needed?”

He nods.

I stand up and enter the spare examination room, he follows a couple of seconds later. I lower the table so it’s more on his height. I grab the stool and sit in front of him, pulling the cart with equipment closer to me.

I lay out my hand and patiently wait for him to lay his on mine. His palm is grazed slightly, and although I don’t see any visible dirt, I disinfect the wound either way. “This might sting a little.”

He doesn’t flinch or pull back, or even look up for that matter. He isn’t even repulsed by how I look, doesn’t draw back as my scarred hands near him.

I continue with his knees, those obviously took most of the hit, but they aren’t in the worst shape. After a couple of minutes I throw away the dirty gauze and lower the table again. “There, all done!”

He seems reluctant to get off the table, but follows me as soon as I stand up. In the doorway of the examination room, he halts and finally looks up. “Will you…” his voice sounds raw and he scrapes his throat in the hope it will steady. “Will you come with me?”

“Of course I will.”

I walk towards Mary and surprise fills me as tiny fingers curl around mine. I assume he’s going to let go as soon as he’s seated, but he only holds on tighter. “It’s okay, little one. Your hair will only be a tiny bit shorter than it is now, it will only take a second.”

At the sound of the machine being turned on he squeezes his eyes shut, but remains seated. Mary’s steady hand moves over the boy’s head in smooth strokes.

“There you go, love. All done.” She says, whilst brushing away the hairs that fell on his shoulders. He is the last one in line, so Mary cleans up, swiping all the locks of hair into a pile before leaving to get the trashcan.

He still holds my hand and I’m about to tug him along, when his soft voice stops my movement. “Maily?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for helping me.”

“No need to thank me, it was my pleasure.”