The Reign of the Queen of Cleaning

November weather could hardly be called pleasant, in Jennifer's opinion. Wintery frosts always seemed to come earlier and earlier, while the brilliantly orange and red trees wept as they lost their leaves. Friendly winds turned into howling moans, and the pumpkins left to rot outside after Hallow'een sat abandoned, their mischievous grins morphing into scowls at the approach of Winter.

Despite all this, it was still decidedly Autumn. Red seemed to be everywhere, funnily enough; on the trees, the grounds, it was even splashed across the sky as the new dawn approached the Rose Garden Orphanage.

Small Jennifer, seated by the Bedroom window, was trying desperately to distract her thoughts from last nights' events. Don't think about it, she'd mutter while her wide, sleep-deprived eyes searched around the room for something to focus on. The toys? The empty bunk beds? The scrawls on the wall that no one had the energy to wipe away anymore?

How could all of this have happened? It was like a frightful game of dominoes, falling one after the other, just like the set they kept in the games room. This time, unfortunately, you couldn't pick them up and apologize to Mr. Hoffman for the mess.

Mr Hoffman. Yes, it had started with him. Jennifer remembered that day clearly, as everyone got their cleaning supplies ready for their daily chores. It was eerie for the halls to be silent. No music blared through the Orphanage's halls, no blustery screeches from her headmaster demanding everyone do their part, listing his favorites while everyone smirked or sniffed.

"Jennifer!" screeched a harsh, overworked voice that entered the room. It was Martha, the veritable Queen of Cleaning of their small world. Her apron was filthier than normal and the bags under her eyes were more pronounced- while she had Clara on hand for extra help, it was certainly almost impossible to keep so many children in check on her own. She had somehow grown older, angrier and more shrewish than she had ever been seen before. At the present moment, her beady eyes were dark as she screamed from the doorway. "Stop this laziness at once! It's your turn to wash the plates, go downstairs and join Amanda" she croaked.

Jennifer watched as the old woman left, shaking her head and muttering insults. There seemed to be no other choice, so she slowly made her way to her duties..

—-

Amanda seemed more skittish than ever as she handed Jennifer the plates to put away. Her eyes darted about disturbingly in the sun-drenched kitchen, and she was sweating a little too much for someone sitting by the shade. Jennifer couldn't make out the words she was mumbling either- something about getting caught, something about letters.

It was still very awkward to be around each other- Jennifer had just been promoted in ranking, which caused any camaraderie from Amanda's part to drop instantly. Smiles turned into disgusted frowns, and there was a distinct aura of betrayal that came from her whispered insults and stares. It was quite horrid; while slightly disturbed by her, Jennifer had found the awkward, heavier girl to at least be on a more level playing-field. For a quick moment she almost thought she had someone to fight with against the Red Crayon Aristocrats, but it all seemed for naught.

"Meeting…" Amanda said softly, frowning at the last plate she handed away.

"What?" Jennifer asked, puzzled and a little annoyed by how softly her companion-turned-enemy was speaking. She set the last plate away in puzzled silence.

Amanda gave a long sigh, and paused. It seemed as though she was weighing her options. Was it better to withhold her news and get her nemesis into trouble? Or would it be worth the punishment she'd get from Meg for not sharing her information? At last, she came to a reluctant decision.

"Meeting in the attic at 10:00 o'clock. Aristocrat Club only" she whispered, and then with a whimper, she waddled out of the room.

—-

For the rest of the day, Jennifer was in a state of horrible foreboding. One never knew what the outcome of an Aristocrat meeting would bring; at this point, she had seen plenty of punishments, unfair requests, dastardly plans, and Hoffman…

She gave herself a quick shake, the horror of her memories almost dizzying as they filled her mind again. She promised she wasn't going to think about it, but something about having to go to another meeting gave her the shivers. Now that she thought about it, she noticed the other orphans were looking particularly conspiratorial lately. Diana was listening to Meg very seriously over breakfast, and Olivia had been crying a little more than usual, much to Martha's irritation.

Even Wendy was subdued and lacked any appetite. Jennifer was sure it was because of the horrible November weather at first, but when asked what was bothering her, the pale girl only shrugged.

Finally, there was no more room to dread: at 9:50pm, Jennifer slowly slipped out of her bed and looked around. The other girls were doing the same, quietly gathering papers and crayons, looking out for adults, and trying to sneak their way up to the attic where the meeting would begin. Not a soul looked or spoke to Jennifer as she followed them all up the stairs, which made her walk even darker and lonelier than she thought possible. At last, they made it to the final door and closed the world behind them.

How she hated the club room! As it was a converted attic room, it was colder and damper than almost any other room in the mansion. At the center of it, the stacked boxes seemed to only exist to exacerbate the difference in status between the lowly beggars, sitting on the floor, and the comfortable aristocrats, high on their thrones. The roses, intended to beautify and bring dignity to the decor, seemed to only highlight the violent red of their petals. Even the candles didn't bring her any warmth- they merely cast disturbing shadows in the cavernous room.

"Welcome, one and all, to the aristocrat club. We have an important message from the Princess of the Rose!" Meg announced, the flames of the candles turning the glass of her spectacles white.

Jennifer, sitting uncomfortably on the hard floor, glanced up at the very top of the throne structure. Sure enough, the Red Doll was still being used as a placeholder to represent their leader, the Princess of the Red Rose. She was always made slightly uncomfortable by it…in a way, it felt familiar to her, but she couldn't fathom how, as she barely had any memories since before the Gingerbread house.

There was no time for speculation though- Meg had given Diana the floor to speak.

There was something almost irritated and bored in her expression as she addressed the girls around the room. "It seems" she drawled, one eyebrow lifting in cruel amusement, "that our efforts to keep Martha from contacting the authorities has been for naught. It was bad enough that we couldn't catch that first letter she sent during the summer, but apparently she just keeps trying to contact the police. Thomas tells me he's caught her writing a new letter".

She paused, and looked at each person with a shrewd expression, as though expecting each and every one of them to be responsible for this slip. "With that in mind", she continued, "it's time for drastic measures. We can't have the police coming here at all, can we? I'm sure none of us want to go to jail, do we?" she asked sardonically.

A small chill went through each child. They knew what they had done, and they knew what would happen if the police caught wind of their crime. "Besides, the Princess brought up an important point: if we go to jail for this, they'll conclude we snatched the other kids too. At that point I don't think we'd even have time for jail" she hid a small smile, "I think they might just start imitating the Americans and give us the chair!".

Amanda yelped, and Meg barely held a surprised gasp. Even Eleanor's eyebrows shot up in alarm, which was nothing short of a miracle for such a closed-off soul.

"So the plan is simple. We have to make sure that letter doesn't get sent. I have decided Nicholas will go in and snatch the paper. Jennifer, " she added, with another evil smile, "will be the lookout. For once, your habit of spying on people will come in handy".

Jennifer shivered. She hated being called for these duties, for as much as she disliked the adults, as much as she definitely did not want the chair, there was always something unsavory in the activities of the Aristocrats. She could only hope for the best.

—-

It was November 24th. By now, it felt as though winter had come early and cooler winds were making it impossible to go outside. As a precaution, Jennifer had smuggled a few extra blankets for Brown to make sure the poor pup didn't freeze. She watched, with relieved, dancing eyes, as the dog bounded all over the shed in happiness as he played with a particularly juicy bone.

"Be good, Brown" she whispered, as she collared him back up and closed the door on his questioning, large eyes. Sometimes it seemed the only sources of her happiness were in the sick bay and this rickety shed. She especially needed to have Brown in her thoughts as she prepared for her mission of the day.

The Orphanage was in complete pandemonium. Martha had been absolutely fed up with the children's tempestuous moods and messes, so on that very morning, the Queen of Cleaning decreed that everyone was to bring a broom and clean this pigsty up. It wasn't particularly successful; the boys preferred to use their brooms like swords for fake skirmishes, and little Olivia was simply too small to hold such a large cleaning instrument. Still, everyone was scattered across the mansion, trying to get things done.

Jennifer slowly walked around the hallways, till she finally bumped into Nicholas. The tall, scrawny boy was looking particularly disheveled that day, but in good spirits. He seemed to see it as a game, and not the foreboding task the Unlucky Girl was convinced it was going to spin into. Despite his amusement, he didn't seem particularly enthusiastic to be paired with Jennifer.

"Well, come on then" he snapped, muttering under his breath that Xavier might not be as sneaky but at least he'd be more fun.

They both quietly made their way to Martha's room, holding their own brooms nervously while checking for any enemies. Thankfully, the halls on this wing were quite deserted and they managed to slink into the Queen's room without any trouble.

"Right", Nicholas sighed as he scanned the bedroom- it was quite small, so surely they wouldn't need too much time to finally find the blasted letter. "Right. Well. Get over by the door and keep watch, Irritating. I'm going to find that paper" and without further ado, he sprung towards the writing desk to begin his search.

Jennifer hunched dutifully by the door as she kept an eye on the lock. Behind her, she could hear the total chaos as Nicholas searched high and low for the letter. She vaguely wondered if he was even going to clean up after himself, or if she was the one who was going to have to do it for him. Probably the latter.

Amongst the sounds of rustling sheets and papers, Jennifer could hear the children laughing, chiding, and sweeping their brooms about in abandonment. No one was really getting any cleaning done, were they? The thought suddenly caused a catch in her throat as she remembered the rumors: Stray dog kidnaps kids who don't clean. She shivered. She knew what became of Stray Dog's victims. Perhaps it'd be a blessing that Nicholas' frenzy would give her an excuse to tidy up.

"What in the world?"

Jennifer looked up in paralyzed shock. Caught up as she was in her thoughts, she didn't notice Martha clearly stride in and open the door of her own room. The old woman seemed just as flabbergasted as she took in the scene: small Jennifer, hunching while she clutched her broom. Her clothes, papers and possessions strewn about as though a hurricane had passed by. Nicholas, eyes wide in surprise and halfway through looking in her closet, could only stare.

"What on earth do you two think you're doing here?" Martha screamed, holding the scruff of Jennifer's apron too tightly.

"I was…we were just…"

"When will you ever learn" she yelled, marching the girl out of the room while Nicholas trailed guiltily, "that your penchant for snooping and spying is the kind of thing that would get you in deep, deep trouble?" she continued, at this point almost dragging Jennifer across the hallway and stopping to tower over the trembling girl by the mansion's staircase. At its top, curiously looking on, were a few of the orphans, their faces blank. They slowly walked away vaguely from the banister. Meanwhile, Martha snatched the broom out of Jennifer's hands and looked down at the trembling girl.

"It's about time you learned not to touch things that don't belong to you" she said, squeezing the broom's handle in her veined, gnarled hands. Nicholas was nowhere to be seen- it seemed that once again, the Unlucky Girl would be a scapegoat for the equally guilty. "Spare the rod, spoil the child" she growled, readying herself for a first strike.

"Now!" shrieked a small, high-pitched voice.

All at once, everything started to play out slowly, like a broken film. Behind Martha were five children, all of them wearing paper bags on their heads with cut-in holes for sight. They stood, like horrifying ghouls, carrying either brooms or rope while standing in the kind of orderly fashion that would have made Hoffman proud.

"What is-?" The Queen of Cleaning had no time to finish her sentence. All at once they pounced on her like small savages, beating and tying her up as she staggered and fell to the ground. Jennifer stood, mute in panic, as the old woman was dragged like a rag doll up the stairs, her head hitting each step with a sickening thud.

There was a pause, and Martha's wide, terrified eyes locked into Jennifer's. Her trembling, fragile arm reached out to the little girl for help. Before the unlucky girl's hand could even twitch, it was too late: the Queen of Cleaning was unceremoniously pulled further up the stairs, her bony body beaten over and over by brooms as another batch of masked children waited by an open door. Soon, she was shoved into their waiting arms and the door closed behind them.

Jennifer sat on the ground, numb. She was vaguely aware of Martha's screams as the thuds continued, the hits starting to sound like sickening crunches. Eventually, even her whimpers subsided and after a brief pause, pure silence. The children walked out of the room quietly, an errant wind from the nearby open window fluttering Martha's bloody bonnet into the hallway.

From another room, Olivia and Susan crept in as well, looking stunned at what they heard.

"What happened?" lisped Susan.

Diana was the first to remove her paper bag mask- she looked very solemn indeed. "Martha wasn't a Queen at all. She was a witch. She was going to use her powers to send us all away". Slowly, more children were removing their masks; even Clara finally arrived at the scene, looking pale and shaken. "We've disposed of her. The way any other adult should be for standing in our way" she added loudly, for the timid girl's benefit.

"Thomas, Nicholas and Xavier, you're in charge of bagging her. We have an extra onion bag we could use, and I think if we leave her at the forest clearing, Stray Dog will do the rest" Meg added, a chilling, clinical note in her voice. A collective shudder went through the group at the mention of the terrifying boogeyman. The boys scrunched their faces but seemed ready to do as they were told.

"Before you do- Jennifer, clean the mess up" Diana added with a shrug as the Aristocrats and their henchpeople walked slowly up to the dormitory. Their expressions were unfathomable- what had the murder done to their small minds? Were they shocked? Terrified? Satisfied? It was impossible to tell.

The unlucky girl felt numb as she stood up and carefully picked up a discarded broom. She walked to the filth room, and with a bucket on hand, began to mop. It was a scene from a horror film: the walls and floor were spattered with blood and even bits of…something. She tried not to think about it. Come to think of it, where was the body? It didn't seem to be on the floor at all. Did the Witch escape, managing somehow to break from her bonds and jump out the window? Despite her frustrations and fear of her, Jennifer couldn't help hoping that there was still some sort of adult left in the orphanage.

Suddenly, a dark thought occurred to her. She felt herself quiver as she eyed the lone bed in the room. She hadn't cleaned under it yet.

She shouldn't have looked. But she couldn't help it. Martha was quite dead indeed.

—-

For a week, none of the children could sleep. There were fearful moans and smashing sounds coming from the Filth Room that no one could explain. Constantly, Jennifer was being sent there for a variety of reasons, sometimes to do the washing now that Martha had left, sometimes to check on the sources of the noise. There was never a satisfying explanation.

The bullying also became worse. Soon, despite being ranked above Amanda, no one would look or speak to her. They tormented her relentlessly and eventually it got so awful that Jennifer spent every spare moment either in the Sick Bay with Wendy, or by the shed with Brown. "It'll stop eventually, Jennifer" little Wendy would say between coughs, her smile angelic and pitying.

Her total isolation began shortly before December. Eleanor walked in the Filth room one day as Jennifer was cleaning rags, a small frown on her usually passive face as she took in the smell.

"Irritating" she said quietly, her voice somehow carrying above the pandemonium of suds and buckets. "It's been decided you're too filthy to sleep in the bedroom. From now on, this is where you sleep". Jennifer's mouth widened in shock, but there was nothing to be done: the Rule of Rose must be obeyed.

That night, she sighed as she saw the girls huddling together under the covers of the bedroom. They were telling scary stories: the tale of an evil witch that was vanquished by the brave Aristocrat Army, and how because of her stinky crimes, the dreaded beggar girl had to sleep in her haunted room.

Jennifer walked into her new home, the Filth Room. It was scary and dark…not to mention it stunk horribly from the laundry. But it occurred to her that finally, finally, she was away from their teasing and stares. For once, Jennifer had a small world all to herself- and unlike the Basement from her distant memory, this place felt safe. She laid herself on the bed and closed her eyes. Tomorrow, it would be another day. Tomorrow, perhaps, things would get better.

How very wrong she was.