Whispers After Dark

Chapter 8

I looked in her direction, trying my best to mimic the expressionless faces of the children around me. The chilly atmosphere gave me goosebumps from head to toe as I was engrossed on my way out. Emily continued with the other children without looking for me to hold hands. As the children emptied the room, Roy walked behind them, most likely guiding them to bed.

My stomach churned from her unusual request. I mean, after all, everything after supper had been scarily unusual. I silently praised myself for looking calm and composed, when in reality, I was terrified. Today had been a hectic day, and just as I was ready to knock out for the day, Mrs. Chamberlain wanted to do another task.

Walking in her direction, she set a fish in front and beside her. Motioning to observe a demonstration once more, I slugged over to stand in front of the other fish.

"Charlie." Her voice was sweet but demanding. This was no time to be sarcastic with her.

"Yes," I replied obediently. Unwillingly accepting my fate to continue another procedure on the fish.

"It's time to stitch the fish up. Watch carefully and follow." There was no enthusiasm or sweetness attached to her words. Just direct instructions.

She began the demonstration. Her method was more medieval, but it made sense. Using catgut, an absorbable material made from the twisted intestines of sheep, was a similar material used for sutures many years ago. After stitching up the fish, the material would absorb into the skin, leaving an unopened appearance in the belly of the fish. It was genius to completely ensure the disappearance of the powder. With its interior stuffed, it would only raise suspicion if the rib was not detectable, but it was unlikely there would be any thorough examination of a fish.

It was disturbing, to say the least. I could feel my supper at the edge of my throat, ready to projectile vomit from any squishy feelings. We worked in silence, with the sound of catgut being pulled through holes in the fish skin capturing the only echoes in the room. After finishing the surgical operation on each fish, I moved on to the next.

Mr. Chamberlain and Roy were nowhere to be seen. I was too terrified to take a peek at the door. Running through those doors was futile now. I was barely able to keep my breathing steady. I prayed Mrs. Chamberlain didn't notice my shaky hands. I could feel my sweat trickle down the side of my face. It tickled, but any unnatural movement would make me suspicious.

With time passing, my body calmed itself. Mrs. Chamberlain hadn't said a word since she showed her demonstration. Her hands flowed each time she followed through a hole. Finishing the stitching, she knotted up the end, placed it in a bucket, and restarted on a new fish. We'd been at it for about an hour now. I had only just realized the cumbersome amount of fish that had been implanted with the powder.

What was the powder? Why was it kept hidden? Why did the children need to be sedated? Questions surged through my head, each one left unanswered. Suddenly, a thought popped into my head. What if Mrs. Chamberlain was also drugged? Yes, it would only make sense. She would never do any of this to her children.

It was an inferior thought, but my intentions were pure. Had she also been sedated, her actions would be done unwillingly, and maybe she would help Emily and me escape. After all, there was no way we would stay in an orphanage that drugged its children. I don't know how I would tell Emily about this. Maybe I shouldn't. It could only make her worry more, and God forbid she cried, I would not forgive myself.

I took a quick glance at Mrs. Chamberlain. Her eyes were more thoughtful and bright than the bland faces of the children. Her smile emanated a serene beauty, and she chuckled at my sarcastic comments; had that all been fake? My face was flushed with disgust. This orphanage was too good to be true. The strict rules enforced by Mr. Chamberlain were set to regulate the behavior of the children and stop any actions of uncovering their dark secrets. The field view from Mr. Chamberlain's office was probably an extra precaution to monitor the children outside, not losing sight of anyone.

A sigh of relief overcame me as Mrs. Chamberlain knotted on the last fish. I had never been up this late, and my drowsy eyes and bobbing head were evidence of that. I'm sure Mrs. Chamberlain noticed that I could barely keep my head straight when she told me to go to bed.

"Mhmm," I muttered, unable to speak properly. I was too exhausted to notice my improper etiquette to the headmistress.

As I made my way out, the door flung open with Mr. Chamberlain standing at the doorway. It was enough to open my half-closed eyes. I moved towards the door, with my eyes set outside in the hallways. I caught a side glance from Mr. Chamberlain as he walked inside, ignoring my presence. Turning the corner, he wasted no time to confront his wife.

"Did I not tell you to keep Charlie out of the stitching?" His voice was stern, demanding a reply. I would imagine his angry face, with his stern brows and clenched jaw, maintaining eye contact, surely making Mrs. Chamberlain uncomfortable.

I etched closer, my weariness making it difficult to keep my eyes open. Their words were almost slurring in my mind. I rested my head on the wall to keep myself from falling over. It made it easier to listen as well.

"We don't have much time. He could come any day." Her voice was calm like it always was. It was like she expected him to lash out.

"He got into a fight today. It was too risky. You should have waited till tomorrow," he growled.

I had never heard him angry, but I could imagine his teeth grinding and hands clenched into a fist. Suddenly, I heard the sharp crack of knuckles making contact, and the loud thud of Mrs. Chamberlain's body hitting the floor. She gasped, and my body wanted to rush around the door frame and protect her. I reminded myself that I shouldn't have been listening in the first place.

"Let's not forget who's in charge 'ere, Margaret." There was a roughness to his voice, hinting at his simmering frustration. But beneath the rage, there was a sense of control, a deliberate restraint that kept his anger from boiling over completely. He still had use of Mrs. Chamberlain before he could dispose of her. Maybe he thought of people as objects, play toys even, mingling with them for a little bit, until he threw them away when he got bored and moved on to another toy.

I closed my eyes, preventing my mind from picturing Mrs. Chamberlain's face at this moment. Lost in my thoughts about what had happened, my dozing head thumped against the wall. It woke me up. My eyes widened, and I panicked. It was loud enough for the couple in the room to hear my presence. I sprinted down the hall as I heard Mr. Chamberlain's footsteps creeping up behind the door to see the intruder. Turning the corner to the expansive bedroom filled with snoring children, I grabbed my mat, the only one left in the pile, and jumped under the covers. The fear from earlier had accumulated and my body began to release its worries. I was shaky, my body shivering from fear. Rolled up into a ball, it didn't make me much warmer. I was too afraid to take a peak. It was like a horror film, the monster staring down my neck as soon as I would lift the covers. It was best to remain hidden and inconspicuous. Closing my eyes, it felt like hours before my mind wandered off to its imagination.