Page 2 of A Whisper of Cinders

I get into bed and stare at the concrete ceiling. I can still remember my first day here like it was yesterday. I was a scared little bird, unsure of what this place might bring me. I found out pretty soon.

Everyone here goes through the same treatment. The first thing they do when you arrive is shave all your hair off. It doesn’t matter whether you are a boy or a girl, young or old, or if you have luscious curls like I did. All the hair needs to go, no exceptions made.

They say it’s some kind of precaution, and I do believe that. Kids here come from everywhere and in the five years I have been here, they were able to keep the outbreaks of lice to a total of seven times. That isn’t that much if you ask me, but I did have to sacrifice my beautiful hair for it. And now, as soon as it reaches a certain length, they shave it off all over again. It pains me every single time.

They hand you a sad blue uniform and send you to the medical wing for a check-up.

I had so many questions, a lot of which still remain unanswered. Where is my family, who are they and don’t they miss me? Occasional visits are allowed here, yet no one comes to see me. Who would do that to their child? Although, I am not the only one who doesn’t receive visits.

Another question is why I am here. I’m sure there must be other places where you would send your child to. A place with more…care and kindness, empathy maybe. Those words are foreign here.

And why are there burn scars covering my arms and collarbones?

After five years, I know everyone very well here. Yet no one can — or wants — to answer my questions. That doesn’t mean I’ll stop asking them.

One knock sounds at the wall next to my head, followed by three fast ones and two slow, soft knocks. Since you hear a lot of banging on the walls, often a lot harder than the ones I just heard, my neighbour and best friend, Amira, decided to make a secret knocking rhythm. Just to make sure we’re alright. This time it’s probably to check if I’m safe and sound in bed and not following the girl in the hallway to one of the safety cells.

She knows me too well, because that is definitely something I would do.

I repeat the same knocking pattern and wait for another knock of hers, but silence remains. I’m grateful I have someone like Ami in a place like this, someone who cares and looks out for me.

She was already here when I arrived, although I’m not sure for how long. It’s something no one really talks about, the time before arriving…here.

I was on my own for the first couple of days, the stares and whispers too loud. As soon as I saw who I was going to be living with, I knew I was different and that people weren’t that kind. I don’t know if this was a problem I had to deal with in my earlier years, since I couldn’t remember any of it. But I felt so lonely.

After seven days of fingers being pointed at my burned skin, rude comments by the patients and yet another incident during lunch, I couldn’t take it anymore and decided to eat my meals alone in the toilets from that moment on. At least no one was going to bother me there.

It was one of those times, while I sat in the bathroom, just as I was about to dig into another tasteless meal, I heard the door open, footsteps moving towards the toilet stall I was hiding in. I was sure I was going to get scolded by one of the not so friendly guards. But Amira pushed open my door, her own plate in hand.

I was ready for mean comments or a mocking laugh, but instead she gave me a kind smile and asked, “Looking for a date?” From that moment on we have been inseparable.

The other patients still have things to say about me, of course they do, but I’ve learned to ignore them and Ami will always stand up for me, no matter what.

Yet I can’t help but wonder what is out there, outside of these walls, beyond the landscape that exists of snow and ice.

And as I close my eyes, sleep calling my name, I imagine the warm sun and nature that’s full of life.

CHAPTER TWO

Cold water splashes over me and I jolt awake, eyes open wide, heart pounding loudly. I take in the concrete walls and Irene’s stern face hoovering above me.

“Rise and shine, princess.”

Her voice resembles nails scraping across a chalkboard and I can’t suppress a shiver. She is one of the not so friendly guards in Anima.

“Was that really necessary?” I ask with chattering teeth.

She tsks at me. “You do not ask the questions around here, Scorch. That’s my job.” Right. I ignore the name the other patients blessed me with in the first week of my arrival. The staff picked it up shortly after. “Get up and head to the showers. You’ve wasted enough time as it is.”

“Can I —”

“No.”

…change my sheets first. But no, it’s preferable to leave linen wet so mold settles in. Who wouldn’t want that?

Irene walks towards my open door and I stick out my tongue at her retreating back. “I saw that.”

Of course she did.