The Black Bag (Part 1 of 2)

Adoption ~ 05

End of 2006, Age 9

She could already tell that it was going to be a gray Christmas. Don't get her wrong. She really liked gray, but ever since Henry passed away, Christmas at the Institute has been lifeless.  But all in all, she seemed to be the only person who thinks so. 

She sat in the dark corner as usual, watching the other children rush noisily to the tree and unwrap their presents. One or two seemed deeply dissatisfied with their gifts and they prod one another to ask if they were fine with trading. She shook her head as Sinclair called over to said children, telling them that 'they're sticking with what they have and that's that'.

Paula - Sinclair's assistant - had noticed her inactivity and walked over to her. She placed a hand on her shoulder. "Come now, Sophie. It's Christmas. Loosen up and enjoy the holiday with the kids."

If she believed that Sophie was nervous or left out, she was wrong. It was true that Sophie wasn't well with the other children - most thought her weird and creepy even before she'd found it (not like she'd ever shown them anyhow). The girls didn't invite her to their 'tea parties' and doll role-plays, stating that she wasn't 'girl enough'... whatever that meant. The boys were fine with her at first, what with them calling her over sometimes to play tag. But they stayed away from her after she appeared to have become the director's pet. They even spread immature gossip about her being associated with Death since she kept visiting the cemetery alone.

...Then again, she might as well be so now.

Paula soon left her alone after coaxing her to no avail, thus allowing her to head off to her room without anyone stopping her. When she got there, she locked the door behind her, ducked under the bed and pulled the bag out. It was time for cleaning, anyway. After her own bath, she crawled onto the bed, unzipped the bag and removed it from the nest of old dish towels. She held it still with one arm and wiped the pallid face, gently rubbing any grime that had formed onto its skin. 

She was almost done when somebody knocked at the door. Her body stiffened: the knocks were decisive. Always five in a row. Sinclair was right outside. Before he could ask her if he could come in, she quickly scrambled off the bed, placed the head back into the bag and shoved it into the nightstand cabinet. She ran towards the door, unlocked and opened it. 

"Oh! Sophie, I didn't know that you were... well... busy." Sinclair said, turning his gaze away. "We didn't hear the shower going off."

She remained quiet. She'd forgotten that she was still naked with only a towel around her. She also paid no attention to whatever that the chairman had uttered with sheer embarrassment. Instead, she was engrossed by the stranger standing next to him: a man in middle to late 30s, short butterscotch yellow hair, nondescript build under a beige sweater and brown overcoat. As she stared up at him, she had the feeling that she had seen him before somewhere. The man smiled down at her.

"Hello." he started politely. "Your name is Sophie, right?" She nodded. 

"Well, hello, Sophie. I'm Dr. Brammer from the clinic a few streets away. Do you know that place?" She nodded again. Henry had mentioned it and even shown her the place once, but she never went in personally. So, what does this man want with her?

"That's nice. ...The reason why I'm here is because my son told me about you. Apparently you've helped him once. After he explained everything, I felt like I needed to see you."

An image of a certain boy flashed briefly within the depths of her mind. A boy bleeding from his left eye. ...Oh... That's why he looks so familiar.

"Anyway... I understand that this is a rushed offer but... I am thinking of taking you in."

 ...Wait, what? ...She wasn't dreaming, was she...?