Chapter 6
Viper
Sister Blair has yellow teeth and a crooked smile.
I have only ever seen her face, but I know she’s scrawny.
Her bony elbows stick out under her habit, and skinny ankles flash when she walks.
She reminds me of the serpent she talks about on Sundays.
The one who slithered through the garden and told Eve to eat the apple.
Eve was smart to eat that apple, even if she’s the reason we’re all doomed to be sinners. I would have eaten that apple too, because who doesn’t want to know things?
When I told Sister Blair this on my third day at the orphanage, she sent me to see Sister Isla, the Headmistress, which meant I had to say prayers over and over while kneeling before the altar.
“Sinful, dreadful boy,” she had whispered, lips curled back from her teeth like a mean dog, shoving me to the ground so hard my knees hurt. “All this dreadful sin is going to be your downfall.”
I think she might be right, because I have to do that a lot. Pray for forgiveness.
But not anymore. No more kneeling before Father Rupport’s altar, staring up at that wooden dead-eyed statue.
It didn’t look like the gentle Savior Mum talked about.
This one stared through me like I didn’t even exist. But, I’d take a hundred hours kneeling in front of Father Rupport’s altar over even a few seconds in the special room with Headmistress Isla.
She always brought me there when I needed my soul cleansed.
But I don’t have to worry about that anymore either. Not the school, the purging room, or Headmistress. Not even snakes or prayers.
Three days ago, a tall, dark-haired man picked me up from the Boy’s school. He told me his name was Fallon, which sounded like a girl’s name. Headmistress said he’s the only one I’ll have to please now. Fallon told me he was my father when he led me to a shiny black car, which is an outright lie.
My father is dead.
Just like my mum.
Cancer. That’s what got her. It ate her up on the inside and took her away from me.
Last year, Mum was pretty and laughing, then Father Odon was putting her in the ground and I was sent to live at Saint Theresa’s School for Boys.
The social worker said I had no family, and boys and girls who have no one to claim them get sent to homes where they wait for new parents.
I didn’t want a new parent. I wanted my mum, but she was dead.
Placed in the ground in a plain wooden box.
I cried a lot, worried about bugs eating her body.
I hated the thought of squiggly worms eating her eyes.
When I told Father Odon my fears, he said that her soul now floats in the heavens.
Her body was here, feeding the Earth, but she was in Heaven with God watching over me, making sure I am safe.
But I’m not so sure about that. Or maybe she got lost on her way up there because it seems no one is watching out for me anymore.
Because if there were, I think someone would punish the Sisters that live in the boy’s home. Sister Blair may have gross teeth and swears I’m a terrible boy, but she’s nowhere near as mean as Headmistress Isla.
But I don’t have to worry about her anymore, though. As Sister Blair likes to say, I have bigger problems right now.
My new father brought me to a new school, and I don’t think I’m going to like it here.
So far, I like nothing about it. Especially this room. It’s dark and cold, and I’m really hungry, since I haven’t eaten in days. The emptiness makes my stomach rumble over and over.
Pressing my hand to my belly, I push in hard to stop the pain.
I open my eyes, leaving behind the images of the school, Sister Blair, and Headmistress Isla, and the prayers, but I’m met with darkness, so I close them again.
Not like there’s anything to see in here.
I’m alone, nothing besides the rats that crawl over my feet if I sit too still and the bugs that find their way under my shirt.
There’s no furniture, just old walls with peeling blue paint.
I only know they are blue because I saw the pretty color right before things went dark.
My new father shut the metal door after he told me to stay still and quiet. When the lock snapped in place, I knew I was in trouble. When the lights went off, I didn’t even bother with prayers.
I still don’t as I curl up tighter, pressing my back to the cold wall, letting my head fall forward.
The ache in my belly has grown, so I know I’ve been here a few days.
I can tell because that’s how long Sister Isla would keep me in the purging room, asking for forgiveness as she stood behind me, whispering prayers intended to cleanse my soul.
Even though she said my soul was cleansed I don’t think it really was, because every time I left the room, I felt dirtier than before.
I’m dirty now. And cold. But at least I’m not sweating like in the purging room with all the candles. But piss still wets my pants leg. I tried to aim for the floor, but I can’t see anything, so it splashed back on me.
I glance toward the thin line of light under the door, wondering when Fallon or that boy will return.
The first day Fallon brought me to the new school, he led me through the large metal gates and empty halls with torn vinyl floors.
He told me I was going to learn how to be a soldier, but I had to pass a test first. My real father, he’d been a soldier, but I don’t think that’s the kind Fallon meant.
I hope not because my da died as a soldier, and I don’t want to die.
I’m only six.
My mum would have been twenty-four.
She was pretty. Not like the sisters at Saint Theresa’s.
Pretty like a winter day. Pale, with bright eyes that looked like the sky.
I don’t remember my da. He died before I was born, Mum said. But I saw pictures of him, and I have his face. Mum said I have her eyes and lips, but everything else was my da’s through and through. I even inherited his temper.
That growly, painful feeling winds my belly up again, and I wince, but I refuse to cry any more.
The first day here, I cried. Then I fell asleep long enough that when I woke, I knew it was the next day. I knew because the tiny line of light from under the door was a different color, not the blue fluorescent light like before, which meant it was daylight.
The second day in this room, I sat in my corner where he told me to sit and sang the songs my mum used to sing to me, but I sang them in my head so the boy who comes to stand by the door every few hours wouldn’t hear.
When the boy asked me if I was alive, I didn’t answer out of spite. If he wanted to know, he could open the thick metal door Fallon locked and see for himself.
Fallon. My new father has to come back soon and unlock that door. I’m not stupid. He didn’t give Sister Isla all that money to fix broken things at Saint Theresa’s if he planned on letting me die.
Another one of my da’s traits, my mum said I possess.
I’m nosey. But it’s only because I like to know things. Information, Mum said, is as valuable as gold and can get you out of any situation. That’s why I listen a lot.
On the second day, I moved around a bit. My butt was numb, so I stood up, using the wall to guide me, and walked the entire room, counting each corner as I went. When I came back to the fourth, I sat down and took off my shoes to rub my toes.
They are still cold, my whole body is, but it’s no worse than the ice baths Sister Isla gave me.
A grating sound to my left snags my attention away from thoughts of Eve and apples and repenting for sins I haven’t even committed.
It’s the sound of metal scraping metal, like when he left and locked the door.
The door swings inward, and a bright blue-tinged light casts a long line over the concrete floor.
I blink, trying to focus, but my eyes sting, so I press them closed really tight, willing tears to soothe them, but nothing comes.
I’m too thirsty.
“Syn.” His deep voice makes my shoulders tense, as does the word.
He keeps calling me that, even though it’s not my name. Makes me wonder if Headmistress told him I was full of bad things, so he thinks it’s my name now.
I open my eyes. They land on a bright metal belt buckle, then travel up the buttons of a gray vest over a white shirt, like those fancy men on TV wear, to the tie at his neck. It’s pale blue, like his eyes.
“Fallon,” I say, but my voice cracks. “Can I come out now?”
The light from behind him only catches half his face, but that’s all I need to see to notice the way his brows turn down.
I wonder what I said that was confusing.
“I’m right hungry.” My belly growls as I push myself up, knees trembling, but I don’t feel nearly as bad as when I left the purging room. He frowns, so I say, “Some bread?” I tack on a please to see if that will help.
Fallon’s face twists weirdly. Like he’s not sure what to make of my words.
He speaks differently, so maybe I sound as strange to him as he does to me.
His pale blue eyes slide from my face down to my belly.
I drop my hand from my stomach, not wanting him to see me hurting. It always made Sister Isla smile.
I have a feeling Fallon might smile too.
“Come with me.” Fallon holds out his hand, and I think for a minute before taking it. He locked me in here. I don’t trust him. I didn’t trust any of the sisters either, but I had to take their hands and do what they said or be punished.
I’ve already been punished. For what, I’m not sure. But if I don’t listen now, he may walk out and shut the door again.
So I take his hand.
“Where are we going?” I ask, daring a look at my hand in his.
His skin isn’t as fair as mine. He has large, strong hands, with long fingers.
My hand looks fat and small in his. I wonder if my real da had big hands like Fallon’s.
I wonder if I will when I’m older. Sister Isla always said I’m going to be a big, strapping man.
Maybe that’s why she always paid me so much attention.
“Am I getting food?” I ask, and can’t help but press my belly again. I feel like bugs are in my belly, eating my stomach.
Fallon stops in the middle of the hall and looks down at me. “You’re a curious boy.”
His face has that strange look again. I’m not sure if he thinks I’m odd or if I ask too many questions. So I nod. “Yes, sir.”
That strange look slips off his face, and he frowns. I forget to ask if he wants me to call him Father, Fallon, or sir when we start walking again.
“Am I going back to the room after I eat?” I ask, as he guides me down the hall. I point back behind us to the open metal door. “Back to that room?”
The hallway looks just as it did when Fallon led me through the new school the other day. Dull. Paint chipped in places.
“No, syn,” he says, glancing down at me.
It’s the same look Sister Blair would give me when she would take me back to my room after my cleansing.
A little uneasy and wholly bewildered. Like I was a beast set free of a cage and she wasn’t quite sure what to do with me.
“You’re going to have your own room, and go to classes with your brothers. ”
“Brothers?” I’ve never had a brother, and I’m not sure I want one now.
He tells me he’ll explain later, so I bite my tongue, not wanting to make him mad. If he gets mad, he may put me back in that room.
We take a left, then another left. Then a right. A few small windows with bars over them show that it’s daytime outside like I thought, but the sky is dull gray like it’s about to rain.
We turn onto a long hall with rows and rows of metal doors. Fallon points to the door with bubbling gray paint and rust spots. “This will be your room.”
“Will I get locked in there too?” I ask. I don’t like the idea, but at least he didn’t mention a purging room, so maybe it won’t be too bad here. Unless he’s waiting to tell me that part. Keeping it secret, like the sisters did. “In my room, I mean?”
Fallon stops again and places a hand on my shoulder, guiding me through a door with a white outline man on the front.
A bathroom.
My stomach twists.
“Let’s get you clean clothes,” he says.
I look down at my clothes, wondering if I can convince him I don’t need a cleansing.
They aren’t very dirty, just some streaks of dirt and dust, mostly around my knees and bottom.
Besides the pee on my leg, they’re pretty clean.
My arms are grubby, and I would bet my hair is a mess, but I’m not too filthy.
It was only three days. I’ve endured far longer during a purging.
Besides, I didn’t make a bowel movement, and managed to hold it, which I’m glad.
It would have been terrible to sit in that room with the stench, though I have a feeling the rats and bugs would have been happy.
Headmistress Isla always made me clean my waste after my penance.
Even though my knees and body were sore, I did it without complaint or a single tear.
I want to cry now, though, and I have to bite my lip to stop it from trembling.
From the center of the tiled room, I watch as Fallon gathers supplies.
White bar soap.
A white towel.
My breathing turns heavy. My belly twists for a different reason. Needles start pricking the tips of my fingers and a dull sound hums in my head. Like the devil’s snakes are in there whispering.
This is why I stopped praying. Bad things just seem to find me no matter what I do.
Fallon turns the water on and then points to the shower stall.
“Take a shower,” he says, then gestures to a stack of grey clothes. “Put on your uniform and then meet me in the hallway. You have ten minutes.”
He walks to the door, and my heart jumps.
“You aren’t going to cleanse me?” I ask.
He stops just before he reaches for the door. When he turns to face me, his brows are pointed down again, like two black lines making a V. “Do you need me to bathe you?”
I shake my head so fast, a curl falls into my face. “No, sir.”
Fallon nods, gaze moving up and down, but not like how Sister Isla always did, then leaves.
The second the door slams shut, I rush forward searching for a lock, my heart beating so hard I feel it might rattle right out of me. When I don’t see one, my hands start to shake, but then Fallon’s deep voice says from the other side of the door, “Ten minutes, syn.”
My shoe slides over the cracked white tile as I take a step back. My eyes move to the stack of clothes, then the running shower.
Ten minutes.
I had better hurry before he changes his mind.