Am I scared, or am I just anxious? Why am I touching the cold surface of this chair?
It's so cold here. Why are hospitals always this freezing?
I look at everyone's faces. It doesn't really matter; they all look the same—even mine. Worried faces all mirror one another; only the lines on their foreheads differ.
Tick. Tick. Tick... Tick.
I see Sarah's hands gripping the armrest of the chair tighter with every passing second. The time bomb finally explodes.
"Can somebody please stop this clock for once!" Sarah's voice booms through the hall.
A larger hand suddenly lands on Sarah's small one. Miss Mary speaks gently, though her tone is undeniably firm. "Do you think screaming will help, Sarah?"
"But... I'm sorry."
"There is no need to apologize for venting your emotions, but observe the place you are in. Imagine you were a patient undergoing treatment; you could harm them by causing such a commotion."
"But still," Sarah whispers, "it was going so well until now. It was perfect."
Max, who is sitting calmly in his chair, pats Sarah's head softly. "Rem will be fine. He just fainted."
But...
"Trust me, crybaby."
The door opens, and a doctor in a white coat and round glasses pushes through, a gloved hand on the frame. He walks straight to Miss Mary.
"What was the cause of his fainting?" Miss Mary asks.
The doctor's face is a sight to behold; he is visibly shocked. "What an unexpected question. I don't get people who go straight to the problem.
Usually, you ask me how he is doing first."
I wonder why the doctor has such a smile on his face.
"If he wasn't fine, only a lunatic would have such a calm demeanor," Miss Mary retorts. "I know he fainted, so the only query left is: why?"
"Aren't you a sharp lady?" The doctor chuckles.
Miss Mary isn't the type to fool around. "I said, tell me the cause."
I can tell that the squinting of her eyes and the tightening of her face is never a good sign.
"Okay, okay. Come with me to the relative's chamber. Kids, stay here for a while until I talk to this gentleman, and no commotion."
"Why isn't Kit with us? Why did Miss Mary leave him at the house?" Sarah asks.
It's a clever question. I'll give her that; I was observing it too. Dang! Why didn't I ask that?
"He is prohibited from going out of the house or the garden," Max answers. He is always so eager to answer any query.
"No, what is the meaning of porh... ib?"
"Prohibited," Max cuts Sarah off mid-sentence. "Prohibited means when you are not allowed to do something. In this case, it means Kit is not allowed to leave the house or garden. In your case, Sarah, you should watch your pranks. The way you're going, by the time you're eighteen, you'll be in a cell where everything is prohibited."
Sarah's tongue is always wagging, and Max's tongue is always sharp.
Time passes rather quickly while listening to their chitchat. One hour, then two, then another. We arrived around 11 a.m., and it is now close to 3 p.m.
What is Kit doing at the house? There are guards at the gate. It's shocking how an orphanage with less than 6 members needs security.
The door of the chamber finally opens. Miss Mary walks out with purposeful steps, and there is no sign of that smug doctor.
"Let's go." She holds the hand of Sarah, who had fallen asleep due to the long debate with Max.
I want to ask what happened behind that door. I know, seeing Max's face, that he has the same question. For some reason, neither of us wants to ask. She grabs Lily by the hand and carries her gently, as if trying not to ruin her sleep—or perhaps she just didn't want to listen to her rambling.
I can't blame her; we are all tired.
As she starts walking down the hospital stairs, I can't hold myself back. I don't speak to Miss Mary—I'm not that dumb—but I carefully ask Max in a low voice: "Why didn't you ask her?"
He instinctively questions back, "What?"
"What happened to Rem!"
He blinks at me and, with his signature smug expression, replies, "Have some sense, Erebus. If the adults wanted us to know, wouldn't they have let us enter the relative's chamber?"
With a last shred of hope, I cling to my final argument.
"You could have at least tried."
"Never put your hopes on someone else for your own bidding, Erebus. If you want to know something, ask it yourself."
I reply sternly, with the stubborn energy of youth: "You are not 'someone'—you are my brother."
"Flattery will get you a long way, Erebus, but not today."
Miss Mary has carried Sarah for a long time; we can even see saliva dripping from Sarah's mouth onto Miss Mary's freshly washed sweater. The roads are empty today, for some reason, as if something had sucked the people out of their natural habitat.
Well, I am right about certain things, indeed. Swarms of people have gathered in the middle of the road. Was it an election rally? There are expensive cars there that I have never seen, smelled, or touched.
"What is happening here, Max?" I ask softly.
There is no reply—not a single word. As I turn to face him, to my astonishment, Max isn't there at all.
I am lost!
I was observing those cars so intensely that those three fled away like birds.
As I begin to calmly panic, I see a huge digital screen displaying the event I am now lost in:
'PUBLIC APOLOGY OF SIR VLAD'