Confession of a Serial Killer

Chapter 2

I curled my toes while rubbing my hands to ease the cold. I tried to warm myself with my thin clothes and thin blanket. I hate it when it's cold. Every time the rain pours or the wind blows, I couldn't sleep. I have to fit myself in this tiny blanket to keep my body warm.

The leaking water from the ceiling is not helping. I just want to sleep well but it seems like the world can't give me that even for a second. I closed my eyes and tried to swallow the growing pain in my stomach. Why would someone as frail as I experience this kind of life?

The soft whimpers from my right stirred me. I looked at the child trying to figure out what to pull in order to cover up his body. Now that I noticed the uneasiness of the child, I looked around. I'm not alone.

All of them look like they're in a devastating state every time it rains. The room was too small for all of us. Fifteen children were sleeping including me. I heard the weak moans of the children because of the cold. Even if I wanted to share my space, I couldn't.

The soft whimpers on my right continue.

"As long as you can provide, give," I remember. I sighed silently and decided to unwrap the blanket on my feet. I then moved a little and covered the child with it. I'm old enough to endure the cold. I should act as a big brother to all the kids around me.

A soft smile carves on my face when the whimpers stop. I was satisfied when the child looks like he found peace in his sleep. I'm glad that even if the world is cruel, I made a child sleep great.

Now that there's nothing that can keep me warm, I sit uncomfortable. I began to wonder what happened that made them live like this. This is not what it looks like before. Everyone had enough space, the food was great, and there was a room large enough for them. There were blankets, pillows, and even floor heaters to ensure that they could sleep comfortably at night. But everything changed when the owner of the house became sick.

Her son decided to send her overseas for medications. Although we were against the idea of Lady Monica leaving the house, we couldn't do anything to help her. We're penniless, and without the house's support we're already dead.

Mr. Augustin, Lady Monica's first born took the responsibilities of the house. During the first month after Lady Monica left, we were fine. Donations flooded the house when sponsors knew that the lady of the house went away for her health.

Little did we know, after a month everything went down. Mr. Augustin became a drunkard and often left the house unattended for days. The money from the government became his pocket money for the casino.

I once saw Mr. Augustin drinking in the street when Veronica, our big sister asked me to buy some medicines for Francis. I even heard him brag about the money he received from Mr. Faulks, the house major sponsor.

I told Veronica about this but she told me to keep quiet. "Mr. Augustin would get angry if he knew you saw him," Veronica said.

Growing in an orphanage is not easy. Lady Monica always tells me to be kind and as the older brother, I have to protect the younger ones. I always give what I have even if it means I will be left with nothing.

I grit my teeth when the wind blows. The unrepaired windows, thin walls, and cold floor couldn't help me to keep warm. The child besides me, Harold, moves.

I smile when I saw him going back to sleep as if the cold doesn't bother him anymore.

In the house, there are 15 kids including me: seven are boys and eight are girls. Veronica is the oldest among us and she's 15 years old. I am turning 14 next month and the oldest among the boys. Harold is the youngest, he's six years old.