Spoiled Secrets

Chapter VIII

John and Laurel screamed in horror and Meadow looked as though she was about to faint. 

"WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED, LAUREL?" Farah cried, her face aghast and terrified.

"MISS SERENITY!!!!!" John yelled, running towards a maid standing by the curtains alongside other deeply concerned orphans who had noticed Laurel.

Meadow regained her composure within a second but her hands and voice shook as she grabbed Laurel's shoulders. "Laurel, what happened? What happened to you? Oh my goodness, there's so much blood... You need a nurse, now. Miss Serenity! Miss Serenity, please help!"

She laid Laurel on the ground as the maid, John, and the other orphans returned. Laurel recognized the maid as the kind one who had served him food the day before. Now it all seemed like a dream. 

"Oh dear!" she cried. She pulled out a walkie-talkie from her waist apron pocket and called for other maids. "Injured orphan—severely injured! Send nurses here quickly! There is blood all over him and he's as pale as a ghost! Hurry! Hurry!"

Laurel tried his best to speak, but it was then he realized how tired he was. The pain on his face thrashed his head and neck like a million hornets were stinging into him at once. A sudden fatigue overcame the rest of his body as he struggled to find the energy to move. He wanted nothing more than to collapse and sleep. He didn't even know if he would awaken alive if he fell into a slumber. Maybe the only reason he didn't bleed to death was sheer stubbornness. But he had to let them know.

The slightest bit of movement in his lips sent coursing waves of pain throughout, but just before he blacked out, he muttered in whispered breaths, "F-Farah...Farah was...right...she was right..."

And amidst the panic and clamor, two soothingly quiet voices— man and woman—seemed to overtake them all. And in his delicate ears, they whispered his name:

"Just remember we love you, Laurel."

...

Laurel awoke in a soft bed. He was surrounded by cushy pillows and covered in a silky white blanket that enveloped in him warmth. His body, once caked in his dried blood was now smooth, and he wore a light cotton gown. Laurel's head, once pounded by pain and agony, was replaced by a mitigated, stinging sore. With one eye covered in bandages that sealed his wound, he groggily opened the other as he slowly took in his surroundings. There stood Farah, John, and Meadow. Farah, as soon as Laurel opened his eye a centimeter, leaped in excitement. John was hugging Meadow and wasn't facing his direction, but as soon as he heard Farah, he escaped Meadow's grasp and jumped alongside Farah.

"You're awake! You're awake!" Farah hugged him tightly around his neck and John smiled widely, his pilot cap bouncing up and down on his head.

"Aghh..!" Laurel yelped, his wounds flaring up again.

"Farah! He's still injured! Get off of him!" Meadow commanded.

Farah quickly jumped back and profusely apologized, but her eyes glimmered with delight. "I'm just glad that my new friend didn't die! Eeeee!"

It was now in the early evening. Orange rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains. He seemed to be in an infirmary. Laurel had slept through breakfast, lunch, and the daily activities. Some second day...

"That was bloody scary!" John said, his young voice quivering. "Miss Serenity reckoned you would have died if we didn't act quick enough."

"Who knows what would have happened?" Farah added.

"Speaking of what might've happened, what did happen, Laurel?" Meadow questioned, her eyebrows furrowed in suspicion. "Tell me—why on literally your first night—you nearly died? The maids found blood on the second floor and inside a pile of crates. What the hell is this all about?" 

Laurel gulped, not wanting to recount the memory, despite taking nearly all of his strength earlier that day to do just that. But now that he was safe and not on the verge of death, he was hesitant. Nevertheless, he knew it was necessary.

"Farah was right," Laurel said.

Farah raised an eyebrow. "I was right about what?"

"The psycho orphans,"

All three of their eyes widened, albeit with different expressions. Farah seemed triumphant that she was right in her self-proclaimed theory. John seemed shocked and in fear. Meadow seemed skeptical but it was overtaken by dread.

"Laurel, don't tell me—"

And he told them. He told them all about needing to use the restroom and leaving the dorm room to ask a maid. He told them how he was knocked to the ground and stared into the horrific, bloody face of the psycho girl. He told them how he was chased all around the dorm halls and the precise shot of the girl's knife through the side of his face. He told them about hiding for his life in the pile of crates and waiting for the girl to admit defeat.

The three of them stayed quiet the entire time he talked. Even Farah, who had been celebrating her intelligence, looked disturbed at Laurel's account. After Laurel had finished, she asked in a trembling voice, "What...what did she look like?"

"I didn't really pay attention to that...but I think she had brown hair..?"

Farah snapped her fingers. "That's Gladys—Gladys Clark. She's the oldest girl who sits at that table." Her voice turned to seething. "She's the worst of them all. She's a year older than me and she used to bully me all the time when I first came here. Besides the bullying, I now have an even better reason for hating her stupid guts..."

Meadow seemed to have a hard time comprehending the entire thing. "Laurel...that...that can't be true! It just can't! You can't have...you couldn't have..."

"You don't believe me?" Laurel asked, his voice flickering with defiance. "It's not just Farah yammering anymore—" "Hey!"  Farah said. "—I actually got hurt! It's not just what you think is unfounded evidence anymore; you have a witness!"

"Laurel, it's not that I don't believe you, it's just..." Meadow said nervously. "It's just...are you sure you weren't sleepwalking and didn't just fall down the stairs—"

"I KNOW WHAT I SAW!"

John stepped back in shock. Meadow and Farah looked terrified. A nurse in another room even checked through a door window in confusion. Laurel realized what he had just done and reprimanded himself for getting angry. Can't his stupid self say anything right?

"I-I'm sorry, Meadow..." he said quietly, hanging his head. "I shouldn't have yelled. It's just...that. I know what I saw. I know it's not fake or a dream. I know that I'm right. I know that Farah was right. And now I know that we can't just stand by and do nothing. What if someone else gets hurt? We need to do something."

Wait. Backtrack. What are you doing? A voice in Laurel's head spoke. You're a skinny, loser, teenage boy who only knows how to garden and random facts about plants. Don't try to play the hero.

Another voice in his head spoke. You just survived being murdered! And all by yourself. I'm pretty sure you can handle at least a few dangerous things. And besides, that's no excuse to let people die. You need to do something.

Meadow looked at him worriedly. "Laurel..." Hesitation twinkled in her eyes.

"I agree with Laurel," Farah stated confidently, her face now filled with determination. "We need to do something. We can end their little 'games' and finally bring peace to this damned orphanage."

"Yeah!" John joined in. He raised his toy plane in the air and pretended it was a shooter aircraft gunning down psycho orphans. "Take that, Gladys!"

"Now let's calm down, now. We don't where to even start!" Meadow said.

Farah winked at Laurel. "We'll find out—together! Ya know, Laurel. I'm starting to like you!"