Chapter 4, Ethan

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Chapter 4

ETHAN

“Nice smooth talking peanut butter, you really had her eating out of your hand, or was she eating your hand? What do you think Jacob? You seem to be the one for love.”

“Oh I don’t know Matt, she seemed like she really wanted to fuc-“

“That’s enough the both of you. Go play yourself to sleep like you always do, or have you been helping each other have some fun at night?” At that, the two of them went bright red as they stammered to find a comeback, with that though, I rose from the table and excused myself from the dining hall to retreat to the garden house, seeing that there’s always some sicko’s trying to have sex in an empty room. As I round the corner, I bump right into Lyra. ”Lyra… I’m so-“

“Don’t even bother apologizing for asking the question, what happened in the past stays there, it’s not like I care what they did to me anyway.”

“How do you know I was going to apologies for that? I could have apologized for being drooled over, or meeting the monkey who by the way act the same as their name.”

A giggle bubbled out of her with that last comment, trying to hold it back and compose a stern face again, it didn’t work. Now would be the perfect time to get to know her, seeing she laughed and was openly friendly to the monkeys. “Come on, I’ll show you around if you want, guessing you don’t know what an Orphanage looks like from the inside. What you see here is a picture in front of a painting.” Grabbing her by the hand before any protests could be made, I pulled her along as we zig sagged through hallways and up flights of stairs. The further away from the twins we got, the less embarrassed I felt. When we were on the very top floor of rooms, I lead her into a bedroom and to the furthest bed, where a shelf hung. Dropping her hand and ushering her protests, I start pushing the bed and shelf aside, where a door with no handle was revealed. It used to be my favourite place to hide in when I lived in this room. The kids would always ask what I was doing but I’d always say that I dropped something behind the shelf. I know almost every single knock and cranny of the building from always skipping classes that the Sisters would teach. I’d memorized every detail and dent in this door, yet I hadn’t found the handle for three years.

Reaching out and behind the shelf I’d just moved, I pull out a set of diamond picks that had been stashed under the garden shed’s stone floor. Carefully, I pick the lock under where the door handle should be. As I work, Lyra watches in keen interest but with a hint of suspicion. Finally when I hear the click, I pull the top peg of the door’s hinge while still applying pressure to the picks. Just like that the handle popped through the door and into its correct position. Placing the picks in my pocket, I reclaim Lyra’s hand and close the door behind us. We weave through the dark passages until another door stands in our way. Reaching into my pocket I produce a very small and rusted over key, praying the key still works from the countless years of use. I place the key into the hole and turn, unlocking the door. Heading through, it leads us out to an open roof garden, sheltered by two walls, one behind us and the other on our left, facing the street. Breathless Lyra stands in the doorway as I make my way around all the plants making sure there’s no weeds and they’re still healthy and strong.

“I’m guessing you enjoyed your tour?” I ask as I watch Lyra slowly enter the garden after me. Now I remember why I couldn’t stop thinking about her all day, “Ya I guess, at times I had my doubts to where we were going, but now…” Lyra says as she starts walking around the plants, inspecting each and every one as I stay stationary in front of a dormant lily. The last time I was up here, wasn’t so dormant. The lily is quite beautiful but sadly dangerous, with its white petals and light streaks of red. When I had originally discovered the garden, the plant hadn’t been dormant and had eaten a helpless rat that had been scurrying along the brick line. Weird enough that had been in the middle of winter, with it being just at halfway through Autumn, it’s still safe to be near the deadly lilies.

As I lean myself against the stone bricks that line the garden bed, Lyra asks “So, why did you basically drag me up here? Apart from the beautiful garden, it looks unknown and almost uncared for. What’s your game?” Lyra says as she eyes off the lily behind me.

“You’d rather stay down there with around 100 bodies pressed up against you as you shuffle your way through a sea of people trying to get out of the dining hall? Even if, you’re wanting to go in the other direction, you’d be squashed. But ya there’s more than just ‘dragging’ you here, I want to know why you’re so hostile to me when you’re kind and caring to others?”

Laughing, Lyra then stares at me long and hard, “have you ever moved more times than you can count? Had to make new friends then say goodbye as you leave them behind? Have you moved school so many times, each is worse than the last?” Staring at the floor instead of her hidden face I say “Oh, I guess not. I’ve always lived in the same place with a continuous flow of new people always around me for over 10 years. I’ve slowly given up trying to maintain friendships, I’ll make a newbie feel welcome but that’s it. Those who have never been adopted are the only ones I would stick my neck out for. The rest I guess are just guys who you can stop and chat to.”

“What happened with you then, what made you live here?”

Staring off into the distance memories flood my mind, “Mum killed herself, dad died from the plague.” Shrugging I continued, “He’d gotten what he deserved.” Silence spread between us as we stood in the garden, savouring the moment of peace as the sun set.

Breaking the growing silence I ask, “Who gave you the gash on the side of your face?” Looking up, she stared at me, stunned like a scared animal. The leaf she’d been playing with falling out of her hands. Was it really that horrific for her that she was too scared to tell me what happened? Or was it because I’d asked her the question? A quiet hiss sounded behind me, before I’m able to turn around to see what might be the source of the sound, red petals encase my hand in a matter of seconds. Shit, and I thought it was dormant till winter. Lyra’s yelp of surprise or fear- or was it both? - shot through the air as she rushed over to help me. Yanking on my arm made the flower hold on harder as it dug two thorns into my wrist. I curse under my breath as a fire leaps through my arm with spikes of ice dancing along my skin, causing me to pull harder. No matter how much I try and pull away from the searing pain that’s spreading up my arm, my attempts of escape are useless. A sweet soothing voice in my head separates me from the pain, whispering “Release hold on light.”

Suddenly the plant spits my hand back out, causing us to both topple backwards. Looking up towards the lily, the petals slowly turn from red with white streaks back to white with red. “What the hell was that?” Lyra asks as she knelt next to me. “I have no idea, I’ve never liked that plant, but I’ve never wanted to get rid of it either.” I say as I rubbed my hand and arm. My whole arm feels cold to the bone and my hand feels numb. “Maybe we should tell someone what happened-”

“No, its fine, I’ve been bitten by much worse.”

“Hold on, it bit you? I thought I was trying to eat you!” Lyra said with panic lacing her voice.

Sitting on the ground I burst into laughter, earning a glare from Lyra. “What? It was the first thing that came to mind! But now that I think about it, it does sound really funny.” Laughing along with me we sit there together as we laugh out all the fear and adrenaline that was pumping through us only moments ago. After our laughing fit, we sit there for a moment longer just to let ourselves relax and breathe in the fresh scent of living green and earth. Looking over towards Lyra, her emerald green eyes gaze at something in the distance. Catching me staring she turns to face me. Sighing, I try and get up but tumble back down as a wave of dizziness passes through me. Catching a glimpse of Lyra, concern lines her face as she watches me. “Are you sure you shouldn’t tell someone?”

Facing her, I say “yes, what’s happened here should stay here. Your foster family is probably waiting for you to come back so they can leave. Not many can last long in here, without living here.” Walking to the door with Lyra in front, just before I close and lock the door, I glance back at the garden with the sense of longing for the greenery. As much as I want to stay, I can come back up after I drop Lyra off. We leave the garden we weave our way back down stairs and through passages, locking everything up like we’d never been there.

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