Page 5 of A Whisper of Cinders

“What did he look like?”

“I don’t know.”

Ami pushes the door open and holds it so I can step through. “What do you mean?”

“I only heard a voice.” Since we’re running late, the line at the breakfast buffet is short. We grab a tray and wait our turn. “I felt a presence, but didn’t see anyone.”

“Let me get this straight; you invented a boyfriend who's too shy to come out of hiding in your own mind? Fitting, considering who made him up.”

“He is not my boyfriend. He could be…a friend maybe?”

After a quick scan of the offerings — nothing new, of course — I settle for buttered toast and a pile of greyish scrambled eggs. I spot Lamia in the back of the kitchen, loading another round of dishes in the dishwasher. I quickly avert my gaze, just in case she would notice me and make a scene. Again.

Ami’s chatting with the chefs behind the counter. Everyone adores her, understandably so. I am the one standing in her way of being friends with others. I know she doesn’t care, but still, if I weren’t around, she could sit with anyone, they would probably beg her to. And sometimes, I can’t help but feel bad that she’s stuck with me.

I walk over to Mary, one of the nurses that assists Doctor Herbert. Someone who doesn’t dislike me. A bright smile is already on her face, making her cheeks even rounder. “Good morning, Maily. Did you have a good night's sleep?”

For a second, I’m debating if I should answer that question truthfully. But now is not the time, so I smile back and say, “Good morning, Mary, it was fine, thank you.”

She turns to the portable medicine cabinet on her right and opens the compartment labelled with my name. I grab a glass of water and hold out my hand, waiting for her to drop the pills into my palm.

When I first arrived, they didn’t give me any medication. But after months of sessions with Miss Sophia, the psychologist, and not a single memory resurfacing, they decided I might need some help unlocking whatever was buried. Not that it made much of a difference.

When I turned eighteen, severe migraines sprouted out of nowhere. I could barely function and had to stay in my room in the dark most of the time. It was quite a lonely period.

With it came panic attacks. I had them before I turned eighteen too, but not that frequently. Why they suddenly occurred everyday is still a mystery.

So here I am now, three pills to keep my sanity in check. More or less. I bring them to my mouth and swallow, open my mouth and stick out my tongue to prove I have actually taken them. I would never fake it, but there are a lot of people here that would.

“I’ll see you later, sweetheart?”

“Of course, Mary, I can’t wait!”

I mean it. As soon as you turn fifteen, they expect you to earn your stay. Although they would never say it like that, more something like, ‘volunteer to become a better person’.

What a joke.

Around here, there’s no shortage of chores; snow to shovel, floors to mop, meals to prep, laundry to fold. Since I was already sixteen when I arrived, I had to choose my assignment early on.

I didn’t know who I was, much less what I was good at. I must’ve looked completely lost, because when Doctor Herbert passed by, she didn’t hesitate, just asked if I’d like to help in the medical bay. I am so glad she did.

Five years later, I’d say I’ve grown into a capable apprentice and I enjoy the work too. It makes the time fly, which is very welcome here.

The injuries I treat there range from minor burns and kitchen cuts to more serious cases: stab wounds, overdoses, even the occasional self-inflicted injury. Most of the time, I can handle things on my own. But when something serious comes in, I assist Doctor Herbert.

Ami takes her medication, and we walk towards one of the tables. There aren’t many others around and I can’t help but feel relieved.

“So…you’re sure the voice in your dreams doesn’t belong to anyone around here?”

“Not that there are many men actually talking to me, but no. I haven’t heard it here, I’m sure.” I take a bite of my toast, not surprised to find that it is already soggy. “Maybe it was a one-time thing, who knows with the way my brain works.”

Ami brings her cup of coffee to her lips and takes a sip. “I can’t argue with that.”

She then, of course, talks about her dream that is actually wild. I don’t know where she gets the imagination from living in this place that lacks anything to fantasise about. And her not being a reader.

We round up breakfast and clean up our trays. Ami puts on her coat and prepares herself to face the cold outdoors. She isn’t much of an indoor person and prefers the physical labour of shovelling snow over a less intense task.

And although I wish to spend more time outside as well, my body can’t endure the hard labour she does. I’ve tried it before, the cold didn’t bother me in the slightest. My weak body and poor endurance? That’s another story.