The Blackcoat (LAMP sandersides story)

chapter one

<< Virgil pov >>

In my bedroom, I play with the crumpled up paper in my hands. It's slightly damp with my sweaty hands, smudging the ink. Although it's wet, it's not close to tearing.
There's silence. There's always so much silence. As though the people here, people like me, are god-worshipping zombies. It's kind of scary sometimes.
I fold the paper up and stick it in my pocket. I can't throw it away, I can't risk anyone finding and reading it.
Sometimes I feel the nuns eye's watching my every step. My every move. As though I'm guilty of some sort of obscure cult of devil-worshippers.
Yes, I'm an atheist, but that doesn't make me evil. I don't think I worship anything.
And the punishment here for not being a god-loving-hippie is nearly a death sentence.

Getting up, I walk from my bed to my desk. It has a lamp and a journal on it, along with a pen that's nearly out of ink.
I write a lot. I feel like someone reads my journal entries while I'm sleeping.
Sounds disturbing but it gives me a feeling of.. company.
Well, when I'm alone I don't feel alone.
I feel like I'm being watched. But not by the nuns.. by another thing.. Another.. being.
It's comforting.

Maybe it's just my orphan self, but I feel like there's a parental figure watching me in the form of something else.

While reaching for the pen, I stop dead in my tracks when someone knocks on my door.

"Virgil blackcoat.. you're needed in the office." A familiar voice tells me.

It's Pam. She's one of the nicer nuns, higher class. She gives me hope that there's nice people out there.

"Okay.. thanks" I reply as I hear her walk down the hall.

I let my hand linger on the pen sometime longer before grabbing the journal and pen and stuffing it in my bag. Usually, when kids are called to the office, it either means you're in trouble or there's people here who want to adopt you.
I grab my pullover and put it on. It's a dull shade of purple, nothing too vibrant. I look myself over a few times in the mirror, black skinny jeans, a black button up under this sweatshirt.
Pulling on my socks and converse, I tie my laces and head downstairs.

Walking downstairs, I head over down the hall to the office. I get stopped from opening the door by Pam, who gets down to my level, on one knee, to pull down my sweatshirt, wiping it down with her hands. She tucks in the ends of my button up shirt, and Combs my hair out of my face with her hands.

She's always been a sort of mother figure.

"Good luck" she offers, standing back up.
"Thank you.." I smile softly, she leaves back upstairs and I open the office door.