Chapter 1: Her
Nervous, the tiny girl barely peeked outside the door. Silence was never good. Silence was bad. The hallway was empty, which was normal, but the silence seemed to somehow become menacing laughter. Squeezing her eyes shut, gripping the side of the door so tightly it hurt, the little girl tried not to cry. Crying is bad—she reminded herself again and again until her eyes dried. When she opened her eyes, she heard footsteps. Now she froze rather than shook, because she was back.
She was terrifying. Even her breathing made the child want to run and hide. That child had long ago learned that hiding made things worse. The footsteps grew closer, and the girl hurried to her corner. Hugging her knees to her chest, she waited. Voices could be heard from the hallway, and that was strange. She was the only one who could speak freely. The other voices were male, and that was stranger. No one came here. No one cared enough to come here, and everyone here deserved what they got. One boy asked if someone would come save them, and she'd heard. She had laughed, and said no one here was worth saving. Then she'd taken the boy to Time Out. Ever since that night, he'd never spoken again. Everyone was more careful about speaking after that. No one spoke without permission. Why was it so loud? The voices and footsteps were outside the door. The girl gulped, and watched her walk through the door.
She was smiling, and that was bad. She never smiled.
"Ms. Mavis, where do the children sleep?" questioned a man. His voice was strange. He had brown hair, part of it falling onto his forehead. She hated hair like that. When Amanda first came, she was punished for her bangs. Another man with black hair, the same style on the opposite side of his face, was holding something red and spoke next.
"Yes, we've not seen any beds in the rooms you've shown us," his voice was the same strange way of speaking as the first man.
"Beds?" she repeated. The girl was also confused. What is a "bed"?
"Yes, and the fact that none of the children we've seen have spoken or smiled is also worrying," the man with brown hair picked up the conversation. The girl wondered why she should smile. And didn't he know that speaking without permission was against the Rules?
"There's no need to worry, Mr. Howell," she said, "they are troubled children."
"That doesn't answer the question about their sleeping arrangements," the black-haired man stated with a frown.
"Mr. Lester, these children have everything they need," she said. "Don't you, Megan dear?"
Surprised, the girl said nothing.
"Did you hear me, Megan?" Her smile was still in place, but the girl knew that tone—ice was the warning. Quickly, the girl nodded.
"You have everything you need, don't you?" The smile vanished and the girl swallowed.
"Y-yes, ma'am." She hugged her knees tighter.
"Phil…" the brown-haired man Mr. Howell said it quietly, but added nothing.
"Yeah," the other man Mr. Lester replied after the briefest of pauses, lowering the red rectangle in his hand. It disappeared into a pocket of his purple jacket covered in pretty stars.
"Ms. Mavis, could we interview the children here? It would be great footage for the documentary," Mr. Howell spoke to her with an easy smile, quickly dismissing the prior exchange.
"Yes," Mr. Lester jumped in, "we've done the same at other children's homes and orphanages, and it's added a layer of emotion to the film."
"Well…" she trailed off.
"We will, of course, compensate you for the time," added Mr. Lester. She didn't see Mr. Howell's mouth twitch, but the girl did.
"In that case, I suppose it would be alright," she said slowly, "would I supervise?"
"That would take away the impact," Mr. Howell shook his head.
"Could we just go around and ask them questions?" Mr. Lester pipped up, cutting off her response.
"That's a great idea, Phil! The kids would be in a natural place instead of the usual interview style you'd see," exclaimed Mr. Howell with a grin.
"Perhaps you could tell the other children we'd like to speak to them so they won't be caught off guard," Mr. Lester, the one with the small red rectangle, smiled. He'd taken the object out of his pocket again.
"That would be helpful, thanks Ms. Mavis," the other patted her shoulder, "we'll start with Megan, was it?" His face turned to the girl, still watching from the corner.
"Yes, that's Megan. I'm sure she'll be on her best behavior," she said, and turned to the door, "I'll just update the other darlings." With that, the girl was alone with two men she'd never met.
Frightened, she trembled when the door clicked shut.
"Hello, Megan," Mr. Lester smiled warmly, "My name is Phil, and this is Dan. Will you please answer some questions for us?"
The girl blinked. No one had ever asked her for permission to do anything before. The brown-haired man, Dan, smiled gently, almost like a silent encouragement. At last, she gave a tiny nod. Her grip on her knees loosened and while the wariness stayed bright in her eyes, the fear had made its exit.
"Okay, Megan," Dan said, "Phil is going to record this on the camera—" Phil gestured to the red rectangle with much enthusiasm— "and I'll be asking some easy questions. Would you mind if I came a bit closer?"
The girl hesitated, but gave a slow shake of her head. Dan blew out a quiet breath and took slow steps forward until he made cautious moves to sit cross-legged next in front of her. Phil moved just as carefully to get a good angle, and turned on the camera.
"Ready?" Dan asked Phil.
"Yep," Phil nodded with a huge grin, "are you, Megan?"
She blinked and nodded once, setting her chin on her knees.
"Alright, now the first thing to remember is that it's very important to be honest, alright?" Dan's face was serious, but he made sure to keep his tone gentle and calm. When she nodded in response for the umpteenth time in a row, he asked the first question:
"Where do you sleep, Megan?"
"I sleep here," she said quietly, in a voice soft and timid, "this is my corner."
"Do you have a blanket or pillow?" Dan could feel his stomach sinking even further. Ever since they walked through the front door, nothing had felt right. He and Phil had exchanged many an uneasy glance, and they'd only been here for fifteen minutes. Ms. Mavis gave them both the creeps. When he looked at the girl with big blue eyes in front of him, who was confused, his heart broke.
"Have you anything to keep you warm at night?" he pressed.
"No," she furrowed her brows and blinked.
"Alright," he nodded, "what's the food like here? Does Ms. Mavis cook for you?"
"We get soup," she suddenly smiled, "it's a food day today!" Her abrupt excitement made Dan smile, thought one thing nagged at him: "Food day?"
"Yep! We get chicken in the soup with our bread unless you're bad."
"What happens if you're bad?" Dan asked, even though he didn't want to know.
"You don't eat," she replied simply.
For a moment, neither Dan nor Phil moved. When Dan had his breath back, he asked, "is that the worst thing to happen?" When Megan shook her head, he wanted to find a bin to get sick in. The nausea only got worse as she spoke.
"It's worse when she hits. The food is only bad for the new ones. They haven't been put in Time Out," she hugged her knees tightly once more, "that is the scariest because we don't know how long it'll last."
"You're locked away somewhere for a long time?" Dan tried to remind himself that they were here to fix this. It didn't much help.
"Mmhmm. When she comes back, we don't know if it's to hit us or to let us out," she began shaking.
"That's it," Dan stood abruptly, and looked directly at Phil. With tears slipping down his cheeks, Phil turned the camera off.
"It's more than enough," he steadied himself, and said, "now, Dan."
Dan turned on his heel, whipped out his phone, and let out a stream of curses when he dialed 999 instead of 911. After correcting his error, the operator asked quick-fire questions and assured him that the police would arrive within ten minutes and she'd sent an ambulance just in case one of the kids was in need of treatment. When he'd thanked him, and hung up, Phil's eyes were dry. Both of them had yet to realize that Megan was crying silently.
A/N: I am here again...with another story...maybe I'll finish this one. No regular updates are going to be promised (I can't keep those promises anyway), but I do plan on adding to this. Don't know how long it's going to be or where it's going exactly, but we'll find out! Let me know what you think.