Spoiled Secrets

Chapter VI

The four children put away their dishes and headed to their dormitory. As they closed the door, they could still hear the orphans eating dinner from downstairs, and other orphans gradually entering the dormitories to get ready for bed.

After changing into their sleepwear, Meadow turned to Laurel.

"So, Laurel," she asked. "how was your first day here?"

"Oh...it was okay, I guess. Er—" Laurel replied, feeling a bit awkward. "Thank you for, uh, like, helping me out on my first day."  

"You're welcome! 'Happy to help! I'm glad it was good for you on your first day." she said. 

"I remember my first day here," she continued. "My siblings and I were nervous as heck! We were so nervous that my little sister ended up dropping her plate at breakfast, and Darwin yelled at her! I felt so bad for her, but now, we've learned the ropes!"

"Wait," Laurel said, curious. "You have siblings?"

"Yup! Two of them! Camellia and Clover, they're ten, and they're twins. Sometimes they like to sit with their friends at a different table during eating hours, but sometimes they'll be sitting with us! I can't wait for you to them, Laurel!"

"Especially Camellia!" Farah chimed in. "She and I are best friends!"

Meadow chuckled. "Anyways, Laurel, tomorrow you'll get to fully experience life at the orphanage. It can be scary sometimes, especially when it comes to the stricter maids, but I'm sure you'll get the gist of it. Like all of us have."

"Thanks," Laurel said. He couldn't help but smile. "Uh, I'm glad you guys are roommates. 'Makes things a lot more...bearable...I guess. Even though it's only my first day here."

"'Glad to hear it, Laurel," she said. She yawned. "I think we oughta get ready for bed now. 'Mind turning the lights off, John?"

Laurel lay on his bed in the darkness, thinking about his day. After packing his things, he had said goodbye to his now-on-sale grandmother's place and took a thirteen-hour train ride to the forest entrance. He remembered walking along the forest path, feeling nervous and scared, and wondering who would put an orphanage in such a remote area. He remembered meeting Ms. Clay and Charlene for the first time and marveling at the orphanage's grandeur. He remembered his discourteous meeting with his new roommates after they had shaken him out of his bed. He remembered almost gagging at the sight of the spoiled milk, getting scolded by the maid (who he now assumed was Darwin), and being told Farah's impassioned theory about psycho orphans.

He wondered about the orphans Farah claimed were psychos. Most of him just agreed with Meadow. Farah seemed like she was being overdramatic.

Still, his mind kept lingering on the image of the "psycho" orphans. Their threadbare clothing, messier hair, constantly twitching bodies, and strange dark aura. He felt a sense of danger emanating from them like they could kill him with their bare hands.

They weren't normal at all, but Laurel didn't want to assume anything. He was an outcast back at his school, after all. He related to being seen as weird just because of certain things he did or liked, and he wondered if those kids felt like outcasts themselves. He understood why they were rude to others; maybe they were just tired of always being called "psychos". Farah definitely didn't help things.

These thoughts rang through Laurel's mind, making it hard for him to fall asleep. The other three were already dozing off, and John's snoring echoed through the room. Laurel also felt weirdly energized, and then he remembered that he had taken a long nap on the train to pass the time and an additional one when he arrived here. His naps had vitalized him, and now he wasn't tired enough for more sleep. Even worse, he also had to use the bathroom.

He hadn't drunk anything since he got to the orphanage, but he drank loads of water on the train. Now it was coming back to him. As his bladder felt weaker and weaker, he awkwardly got up and tried to wake up and ask Meadow if there was a bathroom.

"Meadow?" Laurel asked, feeling guilty for waking her up.

Meadow slowly opened her eyes and drearily asked, "Laurel? Wha-what happened? Something wrong?"

"I'm so sorry, Meadow..." Laurel said. "Um, but I really need to use the bathroom."

Meadow groaned and looked at him sympathetically with her sleepy eyes. "I'm sorry, I can't help you with that, Laurel...There are no bathrooms in the dormitories and you're not allowed to go out, or else the maids will put you in quarantine. There's not really anything you can do except use the bathroom before bedtime."

Laurel's heart sank and his bladder weakened. "You don't have a bucket or anything I can use in the meantime?"

"Sorry, Laurel. Even if we did, if the maids find a bucket of pee during morning inspection, they'll get mad at us and make us clean for a week."

"W-well..." Laurel said, his unease increasing. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Urgh... the best you can do is to just wet yourself. You'll be punished, but it won't be a week-long."

Laurel was distressed. As Meadow drifted back to sleep, he began to panic and wonder what his next move should be. He went back to bed and tried to hold it in as best he could, but as hours passed, he felt like he was about to explode. He couldn't hold it in. Laurel lit a candle and rushed out of bed, out of the dorm, and into the dorm hallways. 

It was cold and quiet. The warm glow of his candle lit up half the hallway, and he hoped he wouldn't wake up the other sleeping orphans. He could hear the faint footsteps and chatter of maids outside of the dorm's curtain blockade, and a slight wave of relief washed over him when he heard the kindly maid who had served him food earlier. She had seemed like a sweet woman, and, with no options left, Laurel slowly crept up to the curtain to call out to her, hoping she would understand his unfortunate situation.

However, as he got closer, he heard something creak behind him.

It all happened so fast. Before Laurel could even turn around, someone pushed him hard and he fell, slamming into the ground. The candle flew out of his hands, and it was caught by the bloodstained hand of someone in the darkness.

The candle illuminated the perpetrator's face: it was one of the orphans Farah had claimed was a psycho. Her eyes were manic and bloodshot, and her skirt was blemished with red splatters. She was twitching like crazy, her arms and head jerking around. In one unsteady hand, she held the candle, and in the other, a bloody knife.

At the sight of Laurel, her shuddering face broke into a creepy grin that stretched from ear to ear. She raised her knife, prepared to strike him.

...

It was safe to say that Laurel didn't need to use the bathroom anymore.