Whispers After Dark

Chapter 15

 I mustered up the courage to talk to Emily about our move today. I didn't find pleasure in telling her that we had to keep moving, but it wasn't safe for her. All I wanted to do was keep her happy but being susceptible to danger and harm here, it wasn't right for her. Last time, she had fallen ill for several days before we left.

She was enjoying herself on the field, being chased by several of the younger boys. Her laughing and screaming were the loudest today, as she couldn't shake her chasers off. I didn't want to interrupt as she looked so joyful but it was inevitable. She had to find out sooner or later.

"Emily, can I talk to you quickly?" My voice was sweeter and higher pitched. I know it wasn't easy news and I would do anything to make it more bearable.

Her panting became quieter as we walked to a secluded area of the field. Being far away from the other children was a lesson I had learned from the past. This part could get messy.

I knelt down to my knees to reach her eye level. I cocked my head sideways slightly to appear more friendly. I forced a small smile on her, which she returned with a wide grin from ear to ear. All things I learned from past experiences.

"Emily..." I trailed off my sentence. I didn't know what to follow it up with. "I know this orphanage is good in a lot of ways, but-"

"Right! Everyone is sooo nice," she interrupted.

My face grimaced from her excitement. Her cheerful attitude was just making this harder than I had wanted it to be.

"Yes, but I don't think it's the right place for us at this time. We're going to have to move to another place." I held my gaze on her, capturing the change in her expression. She was no longer grinning and her attitude had shifted to confusion.

"What do you mean, brother?"

"We can be here much longer. There's a better place for us."

"No!" She screamed. Her brows furrowed in discontent. I knew she wouldn't agree with me, but I had to convince her. The Chamberlain Orphanage was too dangerous for us. It wasn't safe for her.

"Why do we have to keep moving whenever these places don't work for you!" She was starting to get louder, and her eyes were already tearing up. I knew it was coming, but it still hurt to see her so angry with me. I kept my face down to avoid eye contact.

I had no words to explain. I couldn't tell her about the drug operation that was going on behind the scenes. It was too dangerous for her to know. I wouldn't put that burden on her.

"Why do we always have to move, Charlie? Why can't we just stay here? I finally made some friends, and I like it here!"

Her eyes were beginning to tear up and she tensed her shoulders. It was a sign she was about to throw a tantrum.

"I do, Emily," I replied, trying to choose my words carefully. "But it's just not right for us here. We need to find a new place we can call home –"

"Why Charlie?" Her voice was beginning to crack, and I could see her confusion turn into frustration.

I sighed, feeling the weight of her anger and sadness. I wished I could tell her the truth, everything about the drug operation and sedating the children. That staying here was dangerous. I couldn't bring myself to shatter her world even more.

"I understand, Emily. It's just that... there's a better place for us out there." My forced smile had faded away. I felt like I was lying to her.

'I don't want to keep moving, Charlie!" she yelled, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I want to stay here! I don't want to leave my friends!" She stomped the ground from anger and looked at me teary-eyed. Her face held a frown, and she was unable to stop her tears from flowing. She didn't bother wiping them either. Maybe to show me that this was all my fault.

Her outburst tore at my heart, and I reached out to comfort her, but she pushed me away. "It's always your fault! We always have to leave whenever you don't feel okay."

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my own emotions in check. "Emily it's not like that. I just want what's best for both of us. I want us to –"

"Best for both of us?" she scoffed. "What's best for me is to stay here. I don't want to go with you." She choked on the tears from her anger.

She buried her face in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably. "Why can't we have a home here? Why can't we both be happy here?"

Unexpectedly, she stared back, waiting for an answer. Her eyes didn't wander past my face, and I couldn't explain this feeling. It wasn't like being judged or found guilty, but when you're caught for saying something you shouldn't have. I felt ashamed.

I had no answer. I stared at the ground in front of me. Humiliated that I would propose such an idea to her. Why did I think to bring it up to her right now? I cursed my foolishness.

There wasn't an answer I could give. I didn't have one. Instead, I sat in front of her, listening to the deep wails of her tears, ones that I had heard many times in the past, but each time, my heart ached with an increasing amount of pain. It didn't make it easier to listen to her suffering.

I wanted to hold her hand, hug her, and tell her it was going to be okay; I just wanted to console her. With each attempt I made to comfort her, she backed off, not wanting what I had to offer. All I could do was wait for her tears to subside.

She looked up at me, her tear-stained face smudged her hands, her eyes filled with both anger and betrayal.

"You know, maybe if you tried to make friends, you'd actually like these places."

I reached my hand out to hold hers. I don't know what the purpose would be. I just wanted to be close to her. She nudged it away and started walking towards the other children.

"Don't be a loser, Charlie."

Her words cut deep into me. She had never said such hurtful phrases to me. Her normal cheerful attitude held back feelings of envy. I was too stunned to talk back to her. My mouth remained open, begging for my voice to yell her name, rush over to her, and tell her it was all a mistake. That I didn't know better. That I was just confused and exhausted. My mouth shut in silence and I dropped my hand in surrender.

Under the dimly light-clouded sky, I rested my body and mind. I had told her about leaving before, but she was never so adamant about staying. Regardless of her persistent efforts to remain here, she had been spiteful with her words. Surely she had learned it from the other children. Despite my efforts to be in denial of her new behavior, it was heartbreaking to hear her be so hurtful.

I lay down on the soft grass, my uneven dirt stabbing the back of my head.

I'm done.