Thursday, June 8, 1933
How did that happen? And what happened? One moment, I was bloody and in pain; the next, I was healthier than ever.
Tom woke up the next day on the cold, hard bathroom floor. He had fallen asleep while cleaning. Luckily, he had wakened before Mrs. Matthews could find him.
His body was like it had been weighed down by a hundred extra pounds; his eyes drooped, and he felt like he was trying to walk through thick mud up to his head.
Why was he so tired? And more importantly, what happened last night?
He tried wrapping his brain around it, but every thought made less sense than the last. Had the fight even happened in the first place?
Yes, it happened (don't call the fight). I KNOW it happened.
Then how did my body heal? The only possible answer is ... well ... magic. But that's a stupid answer.
Tom sat up from the floor, his muscles aching in protest, and leaned back against the wall. His heart was pounding in his chest from even that tiny movement.
He furrowed his brow in thought and chewed on his bottom lip. It doesn't make any sense. How could that have happened?
(ask chatGPT for potential solutions he comes up with)
Was it ... Was it God?
No, it can't be. That doesn't make sense. But what else could it be? Either I'm going insane, and I was never beaten in the first place, or someone intervened.
Tom was used to solving challenging problems. But this one seemed so ... impossible. As if he couldn't solve it even if he tried.
The door slammed open, and in walked Mrs Matthews.
"Why are you just sitting on the ground, boy?"
He shot a glare up at her. "Because I'm tired." His voice came out as a croak. "I'm taking a break after working."
"Oh, is that right? Well, why isn't this floor spotless?" Her saggy face, wrinkled with thousands of lines and mottled with dry skin, glared at him.
"It IS clean. There's no way I could have done this any better than it is now."
"Well, if this is the best you can do, you need to work for longer; maybe it will beat some common sense in you."
She walked over to a bathroom stall and inspected every inch of it. There was dust along the top ledge thing. And the toilet rim was ... well, it certainly wasn't clean. Tom had fallen asleep almost immediately after getting into the bathroom. He had tried to clean, but keeping his eyes open had been so hard. It still was. Even as Mrs. Matthews turned back around and glared at him, his eyes drooped, and his body sagged as he was still sitting on the ground. Her eyes narrowed at the sight, and her lips thinned.
"As your work is not done. I expect you to continue to clean until it's spotless. And you will only stop once the job is done. No breaks whatsoever."
("Stand up when you talk to me." she snaps. EARLIER)
Tom swayed on his feet at the prospect of staying awake even a minute longer. "What about breakfast? Do you expect me to skip that, too?" he asked condescendingly.
"That is exactly what I expect you to do, boy. Now get to it!"
Tom's eyes narrowed. "I will NOT be doing that. I will eat. And I sincerely doubt you can keep me from eating."
His heart wasn't in it, his brain was too muddled, and his body too sleep-deprived. He longed for the all-to-familiar rage that was decidedly absent in him. At least then, it would give him the energy to deal with her trash.
"You will. Because otherwise, I'll more than double your chore time."
Tom didn't know why he didn't protest. Maybe he was even more tired than he thought, but he knew he didn't want to deal with Mrs. Matthews. Even if that meant doing chores. At least then, he could be by himself and think. He could deal with the aching hunger until then.
(describe hunger earlier).
His stomach growled, but he forced it to submit to his will -- or, more accurately, Mrs. Matthews' will. Even the thought of that made his nose curl in disgust. He turned from Mrs. Matthews, grabbed the cleaning supplies from the cool, tiled floor, and started cleaning. He noticed her smirking before she withdrew from the room.
Don't you wait, Mrs. Matthews. I'll have my revenge soon. You can smile all you want now. Just wait until I have my energy back. I always get my revenge.
But at the same time, it felt like he was surrendering. Was that the right thing to do? Just give up?
Tom stopped arguing. It was giving him a headache. God, he wanted to just sleep.
He scrubbed the floor with weak arms, which made the tasks take twice as long. His arms ached from tiredness, and his stomach was practically screaming in his ear to make him go and eat.
And his head, his skull, was on fire. The cut on the right of his forehead kept reopening and bleeding, sending trickles of warm blood down his forehead. The sight of blood, as it dripped to the white floor, brought back memories of last night's encounter with the alleyway boys. He shuddered and closed his eyes. It's over. They're gone. They can't hurt you. Not ever again.
I'll train myself. I'll do whatever it takes to ensure that never happens again. I'll make sure to kill anyone who so even thinks of causing me harm.
He wiped the twin drops of blood from the floor and washed his forehead in the sink. The blood swirling in the drain. He felt with gentle fingers at the wound and winced as he touched it.
His skin had split open in the mirror for about an inch and a half across his forehead.
His stomach screamed at him again, and it grumbled in protest. "Why do you do this to me?" it moaned out.
God, I'm going insane, aren't I? I'm acting as if my stomach could talk. He shook his head, amused but too tired to smile.
I should just go and eat regardless. I'm too hungry and skinny to skip this meal.
It might get me in trouble, but at least I would get to eat. It could stop this feeling in my stomach.
Are the other children wondering where I am?
He thought about it briefly and concluded that they probably weren't. A few may notice. Maybe Anita would.
Tom gritted his teeth at that thought. Am I really that weak? Where I can't stop my attraction to her? It's soft. I don't need to think about girls now. There are far better uses of my time.
He scrubbed at the floor and the streaks of dirt across it. His body ached horribly, and each movement was slow and shaky. And his mind, it felt like he couldn't even think. Each thought was slow and muddled in his brain (show this happening earlier when he was thinking.)
He scrubbed at the floor, and his body became increasingly tired. And he didn't even notice as he set his head on the cold floor and dozed off to sleep.
Three hours later, he was still cleaning. He had fallen asleep twice, and luckily, Mrs. Matthews hadn't come in to find him dozing on the ground. But despite sleeping, he felt no better rested. In fact, he felt even MORE tired.
What's happening to me? Everything was so simple only a day ago. Well, not simple, but simpler. I shouldn't be this tired. I missed most of the night's sleep, but I also slept today. I shouldn't be this tired.
Now that he thought about it, he had first felt tired right after he had found his body to be completely clean and healthy. A wave of fatigue had washed over him, and ever since then, he hadn't been able to stop the tiredness in his bones.
He had to force himself to keep cleaning; his body was practically aching from sleep deprivation. And something profound inside his chest was burning and searing.
The door flew open, and Mrs Matthews marched in. She took one quick glance around, and her nose curled. "Not good enough. What did I tell you about this being spotless?" She peered down her hawk nose at him. "Keep cleaning until until this is spotless."
She whipped around and marched toward the door.
"No." Tom stood up on shaky legs.
She whipped around, and her lips thinned even further. "What do you mean, 'no'?"
"I'm not going to stay in here cleaning. I'm going to eat." He started walking toward the door. But Mrs. Matthews moved to block his way.
He glared up at her with all his hate.
Mrs Matthew's face twisted. "It's clear that you're under a delusion. Seeing as how I have not given you permission to leave this room. You --"
"Shut up."
Her eyes bulged, and her face turned almost purple. She stood over him like a hawk. Her image now would have sent shivers down anyone's spine except Tom.
Tom's rage wasn't fiery. It was cold, icy cold. Like his mind had frosted over, and every ounce of warmth had been zapped from his body. But his mind was still slow and dull. Each thought took twice as long to realize, and he would like nothing better than to eat all the food in the cafeteria and then fall asleep with a contented sigh. But it seemed as if he would have to fight for it.
"I'm going to the other caregivers." Tom's voice was icy cold.
"You will most definitely NOT be doing that." She dug her claws into his thin arm and squeezed, causing his arm to seize in pain. But he kept his face blank. He would never dare to show weakness in front of Mrs. Matthews. He would rather die.
"I'm going, and there's nothing you can do to stop me." Tom started walking away, entering the alleyway before Mrs. Matthews started yanking him back. His arm flared with pain again.
Usually, he would have been able to withstand her strength. He could easily walk to the caregivers while dragging her behind him. But with his body in such a weak condition, he could barely make any leeway.
The icy cold fury was freezing his heart, covering it with a layer of subzero frost so frigid he felt his heart wither into pure ice. He didn't feel the need to punch her, lash out, or do anything. He felt in control, POWErFUL. Despite his body's state, he felt as if he could do anything.
"Tom's magic turns his rage "fiery," like, and he can't control it. It is extremely intoxicating and difficult to control. His "natural" rage is icy cold and gives him a sense of clear-headedness. Where he can see his options and choose the best one. This is because his mother used the love potion on Tom Riddle, making him be born through evil magic. That, along with the inbreeding, led him to become a sadistic person. But his rage is the way it is because of the loveless relationship he was born from)
"Let me go. Or the consequences will only be worse for you." Tom's voice was icy -- albeit the effect was weakened by the apparent tiredness in his voice and the way his body sagged.
"Boy, if you don't stop RIGHT THIS SECOND, you'll be doing chores for the next year of your life."
Tom didn't stop. And Mrs. Matthews let out a low, faint growl from behind him. What an animal. It'll be a pleasure to make her homeless after I fire her.
"Stop right now! Or ... Or you'll do them for the next five years. No, TEN YEARS!" She was huffing, and her wrinkled hand was sweaty.
"Your threats mean nothing to me." Tom shot a glare back at her and redoubled his efforts. He still wasn't able to drag her any further -- his body was too weak.
"Thomas," the voice of another caregiver sounded from in front of him, and he whipped his head over to her. "What is the meaning of this?"
Tom begrudgingly stopped. He had gotten what he wanted anyway.
(Tom's magic has slowly and permanently increased his intelligence since birth. This phenomenon has never been seen before)
"Mrs. Thomson," Tom made his voice respectful. "May you please gather the caregivers? I would like to speak with them."
It had taken some convincing, but Tom had gathered the caregivers in the main office room. Mrs. Matthews did not care to hide her continuous look of disgust. Tom had to fight the urge to roll his eyes.
A long, mahogany table was in the middle of the room, around which all the caregivers and Tom were sitting. It was most definitely the best table in the building. The top was glossy and a deep, rich brown. The patterns of the wood looked like swirls and whirlpools of the ocean.
The table was bare. And large windows on the left side of the room, shrouded by gray curtains, let in an ambient white light. Showing the dusty air. Bookshelves lined the far wall, and the floor was a dirty yellowish-white. A cheap metal chandelier hung directly above the table in the middle of the room.
Mrs. Matthews was at the head of the table, with Mrs. Hudson to her immediate left. Tom had tried to take the opposite head of the table, but Mrs. Gardner had taken that seat.
Tom was in the middle of the table, with all the caregivers staring at him.
"Can someone tell me why we're having a meeting right now?" Mr. Boyd, the only male worker, said. Sitting across from Tom, he rolled his eyes at the sight of Tom sitting in the oversized chair.
He didn't work directly with the orphans. Instead, he worked at finding other orphans and funding to keep the orphanage running. An ornate monocle was affixed around his left eye.
"Because Tom has raised some concerns." Mrs. Gardner said from the other head of the table, her voice confident. "And as we agreed, we would always take matters like this seriously."
Mr. Boyd leaned back in his chair and stared at Tom.
Mrs. Matthews' voice came from his left. "And what? Are we meant to waste time at every moment where a child wants to waste our time?"
"Mrs. Matthews, you agreed to this, did you not? If you want to change the guidelines, you can petition, but until then, we will hear out Tom."
So official. I mean, c'mon, they work at an orphanage. Do they always act like this in meetings? Does it sate their inflated egos?
(Tom had combed his hair down earlier to cover the cut, as it was rather high on his forehead)
A gasp came from his left, from Mrs. Berry. "Tom, what happened to your head?"
Her hand pushed away his bangs, causing him to instinctively shy away from her, revealing his head cut.
There was a murmur running through the table. And Mr. Boyd affixed his monocle closer to his eye and leaned closer in his chair.
Mrs. Matthews shook her head lightly. And Tom said, trying to keep the tiredness from his voice. "This is from Mrs. Matthews."
Mrs. Berry gasped again, her hand shooting to her mouth.
(Mr. Boyd is in a clean suit, with a pocket watch hanging from his coat pocket. He has a wrinkled face. And only hair around the sides of his head; the top is entirely bald.)
Ms John said, "Please do explain."
The table leaned in closer; some of their eyes were skeptical. But some, like Mrs. Berry, seemed willing to listen.
Tom's eyes shot to each and every person. He felt oddly confident in this position. He felt powerful. He was only six, yet if he was right in what he was to believe, Mrs. Matthews would no longer be working here after today.
"Well, it started yesterday. I was doing my chores --"
Mrs Matthews' sharp voice cut in. "You were off spreading more rumors, not doing chores."
"FIRSTNAME, let him tell his tale. You can talk afterward." Mrs. Hudson patted Mrs. Matthews's shoulder. The word choice of 'tale' was not lost on Tom.
Tom's cold eyes traveled to Mrs. Matthews, and their gazes warred against each other.
Tom forced his eyes from Mrs. Matthews. And moved them to different people. Was showing his confidence the right thing to do here? Or was it better to act scared and weak? Both have benefits, but it's too late to switch.
"As I was saying. I was doing chores when Mrs. Matthews stormed in and was yelling at me and falsely accused me of spreading rumors of her --"
Ms. RANDOM cut in. "We'll be the judge of whether that accusation was false or not."
The coldness in Tom's heart chilled further. And he had to fight from shooting an icy glare at the woman.
"Oh, let him talk. This will all go faster if you don't interrupt him at every moment," Mrs. Hudson said. And Ms. RANDOM muttered something.
Well, thank you, my enemy. You may have some common sense in your mind.
"Yes, please refrain from interrupting," Mrs. Gardner said. She looked at Tom. "That refers to you, too, just so you know. Don't pick up on our bad habits." She smiled lightly.
"I would like to say that I was NOT spreading rumors, despite what Mrs Matthews may have you believe. I repeatedly told Mrs. Matthews this, but it seems she couldn't control her anger enough to see logic --"
"Boy, keep your --"
"Mrs. Matthews! As I just stated, do not interrupt." Mrs. Gardner said again.
Is this how they always act? Or is it just me. He would have smiled at the thought but was too tired to. "She dragged me to the door and pushed me out. She said not to come back to the orphanage until lunchtime."
Some of the caregivers glanced at Mrs. Matthews. But they said nothing. Mrs. Berry opened her mouth to speak but then thought better of it.
"I went into the city, and I got lost. Which is why I came back late."
Mr. Boyd narrowed his eyes.
"When I got back, Mrs. Matthews dragged me by the ear to the bathroom and told me to clean it for the rest of the night. She pushed me, and I fell and hit my head on the side of a sink -- which is why my head is bleeding."
A twinge of shame coursed through my body. An old lady like Mrs. Matthes had done that to me. "When it was morning, Mrs. Matthews told me to keep cleaning because she didn't think it was clean enough. She made me skip breakfast, and then when it was lunchtime, she told me it wasn't clean enough either and made me skip lunch. That's when I came to you all."
"is that all?" Mrs. Hudson asked.
Tom shot a glance at her. "Yes."
"Tom, what time did you come back in?" Mr. Boyd's brow was furrowed.
"I'm not sure, sir. But it was dark outside." (make him use sir and ma'am before)
Mr. Boyd glanced at Mrs. Matthews. "What time did he come in?"
"2A.M." Mrs. Matthews growled.
Mrs Gardner asked, "Why did we not know about him being out of the orphanage, FIRSTNAME?"
"It was not a priority," Mrs. Matthews said. "I didn't feel the need to worry you when there were OTHER things that needed to be attended to."
Tom's brow furrowed. What other things?
"Tom," Mrs. Gardner said, "you said you were lost? How did it take you most of the day to find your way here? Could you not have asked someone?"
"I ..." Tom racked his brain for an excuse. "I didn't want to approach anyone. They wouldn't know anyway."
"First name, let's hear your side of the story." Mr. Boyd said.
She glared at Tom while she spoke; Tom stared back, his eyes drooping slightly. "A child approached me about how she overheard Tom spreading rumors about me. These rumors ..." Her face reddened. "Were HORRIBLE."
"What were the rumors? What did Tom say about you?" Ms. John asked.
Mrs. Matthews' glare strengthened. And her face rapidly twisted uglier and uglier. "I will not say them."
"OK, well, don't say them," Mrs. Berry said. "But I'm inclined to believe little Tom here. He's trustworthy, I know it." She smiled at him, but Tom was too tired to smile back.
"And why would you believe HIM?" Mrs. Matthews' voice was whip-harsh, and Mrs. Berry jumped slightly. "He is a child -- a lying, disrespectful, horrible little child. And I know he was the one spreading the rumors."
"Let's not forget that Tom said he would get Mrs. Matthews fired." Mrs. Hudson said.
Tom opened his mouth to protest, but Mrs. Matthews jumped in faster. "Exactly! Tom has always shown a lack of respect for the rules. And it is becoming increasingly apparent that he will only get worse."
"I did NOT spread rumors about you."
That's all you can say? Think. Think of something clever, something that will convince them. I can convince them to fire Mrs. Matthews today.
But his mind was so slow; each thought made him sleepier and sleepier. All he wanted to do was lean back in his chair and doze off to sleep. But he had a job to do and would see it through to its finish.
"Lies."
"Mrs. Matthews," Mrs. Gardner said, "please tell us the rumors he was supposedly spreading. How are we meant to believe you if you are unwilling to give us the full story of what happened?"
Mrs. Matthews' face reddened further, but she spoke confidently, her eyes dangerous as she glared at Tom. "He said that I was somehow behind Ms Robinson's crashing."
Tom's heart stopped, and his eyes bulged. No. No, could that be true? No, it can't be.
Ms. John gasped. "What a horrible thing to accuse someone of. You should be ashamed, Tom!"
Tom's eyes darted to hers, and he could hear the blood pounding in his ears. Ms. RANDOM, to his right, shifted away slightly. "As I said before, I did NOT spread any rumors. But if you are all inclined to believe Mrs. Matthews, despite all the obviously immoral actions she's taken, then ... Then continue to believe in such idiotic, baseless beliefs."
Ms John gasped again. But Mrs. Matthews sliced in again, "Are we meant to believe the word of a boy who speaks like THIS to his caregivers? We provide everything for him, yet he does nothing for us!"
"Everyone," Mrs. Gardner said, shooting Tom a curious glance, "Please calm down."
Tom spoke again, trying even harder to keep the drowsiness from his voice -- despite the erratic surroundings. "Even if you choose to believe Mrs. Matthews, you're still believing the word of another orphan. Seeing as how the word of a CHILD" -- Tom emphasized the word -- "is what you're going off of."
Mr. Boyd shook his head. "You don't know what you're talking about, child."
Tom's heart was racing in his chest. The rage, it was cold -- so cold he could actually feel it. So icy that his eyes seemed to clear. If only he wasn't so tired, he would be a force to be reckoned with.
"Everyone," Mrs. Gardner said. "Calm down, please. Things are getting rather heated. They --"
"FIRSTNAME," Mrs. Matthews said, "Are you the head caregiver? No, you are not, and as such, you should not be the one making the decisions in meetings like these. That is MY job."
Mrs. Gardner shot an annoyed glance at MRs. Matthews. "All I'm trying to do is speed things up. And seeing as how you're part of what we're discussing. It seems rather inappropriate for you to be leading the discussion."
"Well said." Mrs. Barry nodded.
Mrs Hudson shrugged and leaned back in her chair.
"If I may say something," Mrs. RANDOM said, "Tom is becoming quite the trouble from what I've seen and heard. He attacked a caregiver, for heaven's sake. Not to mention that Ms. Robinson used to give him special treatment. She used to allow him to stay in his room during playtime. Which is something we've NEVER allowed. I believe it may be going to his head."
She knew about that? I thought she didn't know. Well, not until that last day ...
Tom's rage was growing and growing. And his mind grew ever-colder. The world was full of idiots.
Mrs. Matthews cut in before Tom could rebuttal, which made his heart drop another degree. "That is exactly the point I was making. Well said, Mrs. RANDOM." She glared at Tom again. "As you all know, Ms. Robinson allowed this boy to take classes above his age level. Which was something I strongly argued against. It appears that I was right from the beginning."
Her eyes narrowed, and her lips twitched upward as she glared at Tom. "If he is allowed to continue on this path, I feel that we will all regret it in the future, including the boy. His negative behavior has been escalating for quite some time. And if we do not end it NOW, it will also present a danger to us and the other children in the future."
Several people nodded their heads.
"When have I ever shown an excessive amount of disrespect? I'm no worse than the other orphans, and in most cases, I would say I'm MORE respectful." Mrs. Berry put a hand on his shoulder. But it didn't comfort him.
"The other orphan's level of respect should most certainly not be your goal," Mrs. Hudson said. "We are looking for ways to improve AlL the orphans' respect levels. And, from how I see it, we can't cater to the whims of one child at the expense of the rest. So I think we should reopen the discussion on whether he should be in the older classes."
Some nodded, and Mrs. Berry was about to say something when Mrs. Matthews quickly cut in. "It's decided. We're reopening the discussion."
Tom clenched his hands as tight as he could. It could help him stay awake more. He stared at Mrs. Hudson, trying to keep the anger from his eyes and at least appear respectful. "You aren't catering to my whims. You're allowing me to excel -- which is something I can do." He moved his eyes down the line of caregivers. "It won't just help me; it'll help the entire orphanage if I can do the older classes successfully. You might get more funding, which means you can HELP MORE PEOPLE. Isn't that more important than making excuses for why I shouldn't be in the older classes? It's not --"
Mrs. Matthews scoffed and interrupted. "You aren't saying that because you want to help people. You're saying that because you want to look better."
"What did we say about interrupting?" Mrs. Gardner raised her eyebrow at Mrs. Matthews.
"I'm the head caregiver. Not you. Remember that"
"Is this how the head-caregiver acts?" Tom asked. "Is this how I'm supposed to act? I think before you go and critique ME, you should instead look in the mirror and --"
"Silence!" Mrs. Matthews slammed her fist on the table. "You will show respect when you speak to your betters."
"FIRSTNAME," Mrs. Berry's mouth was agape. "Don't yell at him."
Mrs. Matthews turned her sharp gaze toward Mrs. Berry. "Don't call me by my first name. I am your superior, and as such, I require respect. Which it seems you lack as well."
"Mrs. Matthews," Mrs. Gardner said. "I do find myself agreeing with Mrs. Berry. If we are to discuss this, it's best to do it in a CIVIL manner. Please keep the shouting to a minimum." She turned to MRS. RANDOM2. "NAME, I haven't heard anything from you. Do you have anything to add?"
"No, except I think I should be watching over the orphans right now. I don't think I'm needed in here."
Mrs. Gardner nodded. "Very well, you may go."
"FIRSTNAME!" Mrs. Matthews said. "You are NOT the head caregiver. I am. Leave the room now."
Mrs. Gardner blinked and hesitated. "Is this really the best course of action? You know I have a right to be here."
"And you know I am the head caregiver. So leave." Her glare was harsh.
"That is not a part of what you can do. If you want to change the rules, you can petition to do so AFTER this. But until then, I will stay here." Mrs. Gardner didn't move an inch to leave.
Mrs. Matthews was huffing, and her face was bright red. "If you are going to stay, do not get in the way of me. I am the head caregiver. Do you understand?"
Mrs. Gardner gave a curt nod.
Mrs. Matthews turned to random2. "You, stay here."
Tom shook his head lightly. The power plays and countermoves were so stupid. Mrs. Matthews worked at an orphanage yet still cared about position and power.
Mrs. Matthews looks around the room. "The children need to learn respect. And this ... boy sets a bad example for all of them. We aim to instill discipline -- so that it may benefit them in their futures. But if he can't handle simple instructions, how is he meant to handle any of the complexities in adult life?" She took a deep breath, and her eyes glinted. "So, I propose a vote to determine if Tom should be allowed to stay in his classes. All who want him to stay in the older classes, raise your hands."
Only Mrs. Berry raised her hand. Tom looked over at Mrs. Gardner, but she shook her head slightly.
No. No, no, no. This is not happening. I won't let it.
It was all so cold. His body was freezing. In him, a snowstorm raged, only gaining in intensity. And with it, it brought the inhuman will he had never seen before.
Mrs. Matthews was smirking and then giggled lightly -- only for a second. But that was all he needed to cement his hatred.
He wouldn't let this happen.
Mrs. Matthews spoke up, her voice pridful. "Well, it seems that we are done here --"
"No." Tom's voice was still drowsy. But it was also clear and harsh. The pain in his heart intensified. "I will NOT be removed from the older classes."
Mrs. Berry rubbed at his back. But shook her head at Mrs. Matthews.
Mrs. Hudson said, "You see. This is exactly why we chose to revoke you from your older classes. You need to learn respect and discipline. We will no longer tolerate your bad behavior."
These people ... All people ... They're horrible. They're so stupid. If I need to force them to think the correct way, I will.
"Mrs. Hudson," Tom said, not bothering to keep the icy undertone from his voice. "Is it reasonable to deprive a child of food? A basic need that all humans need. And over a petty disagreement? Answer me, is that reasonable?"
Mrs. Hudson narrowed her eyes, and she took a moment before answering. Her voice was sharp. "Yes, it is. If it helps teach that child a lesson."
"Does that align with the core values here? The core values you preach to every orphan. Would God believe what you just said? If he were in this room, would you answer how you just did --?"
Mrs. Matthews's voice exploded. "Shut your mouth! I will not hear any of your blasphemy! You just compare yourself to God, you did --!"
"I did no such thing!" Tom's voice was sharp. "I asked a QUESTION. And it seems that neither you nor Mrs. Hudson have the answer." He looked around the room. "Do any of you know the answer?"
Mr. Boyd had a slight smile on his lips. "He would tell Mrs. Hudson to shut it, wouldn't he?"
Tom smiled, too, slightly surprised that Mr. Boyd had taken his side.
"You know what?" Mr. Boyd said. "I say we keep him in the classes. Look at him -- look at the way he SPEAKS. I mean, seriously, he sounds smarter than many of you. " His eyes darted around the room. "I don't think we have the right to put a limit on such intelligence."
Mrs. Hudson leaned forward toward Mr. Boyd. "But that is not the point. The point is that he blatantly disregards the rules. And as we all know, that's contagious. If we allow his ego to grow, every child will go and pick up his habits because we're endorsing it."
"Not to mention," Mrs. RANDOM1, who tried leaving, said, "we're stretched thin as is. I don't think we have the resources to afford giving special treatment or ... to partake in such tedious discussions for every child who thinks they're the exception."
"Well said, both of you." Mrs. Matthews tapped her fingers on the table. "I say we don't allow him to talk anymore. Let's end this meeting. We already voted."
"No, let's hear him out," Mrs. Gardner shot Tom a curious look.
Mrs. Matthews's face was bulging with hot redness. But, for some reason, she chose not to argue.
Mrs. Gardner nodded at Tom.
"We're taught to behave in an ethical, moral manner. And yet, how do I reconcile that with the actions of someone -- our head caregiver, no less -- who blatantly disregards basic necessities. How are you going to sit there and take the side of the person who will deny a child basic rights."
Tom took a deep breath. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Mrs. Matthews' face reddening and reddening -- to the point where her face looked ready to explode. "And not just that, but someone who actively goes out of her way to make the lives of the orphans -- whom she swore to protect -- and the lives of you worse. Being in the older class isn't just beneficial to me. It hasn't ever been about me. It's about ... helping others." Lie.
"I'm not the only one to benefit from it. The entire orphanage looks better as a result."
He looked down at the table. "I respected you -- I STILL respect you -- as figures of authority." Lie. "But not just that ... You're all the ... You're the closest thing to family I have." Lie.
His mind was so tired he could barely think. But he kept going. This was the moment. This was the time when Mrs. Matthews would be fired. He knew it.
"But ..." He looked up at them, making his gaze meek. "Does family starve each other...?" Mrs. Berry's hand stopped rubbing his back. And Mr. Boyd's gaze widened. "Does family push each other and then leave the other to lie on the ground, bleeding ... Does family --"
"SHUT UP!" Mrs. Matthews's voice exploded and shook the room. "Leave, NOW!"
Her entire body was trembling with sharp, erratic movements. Her face was red as blood. And she pointed a shaking, dangerous finger at him. "We will hear no more of your words. LEAVE."
"No, I want a revote --"
"You disrespectful little ..." Her voice was ... DANGEROUS. It was the first time he had ever sensed real danger from her. His hair stood on end, and he clenched his fists.
"Mrs. Matthews," Mrs. Gardner said with a harsh voice. "Control yourself."
"We already voted, and that is THAT!" Mrs. Matthews's bottom lip shivered, and her nose twitched and flared. "And you know there is nothing you can say against me."
Mrs. Gardner's lips thinned. But she stayed silent.
"I resign." Mrs. Berry's angry voice caused gasps to erupt around the room.
"WHAT? What did you say?" Mrs. John asked.
Mrs. Berry just stood up, patted Tom's head lightly, and said to Mrs. Gardner, "I want to work someplace where I can actually make a difference." (meaning she can't do anything with Mrs. Matthews there)
"Come with me, Tom." With that, she walked out of the room.
Tom had used all his energy and practically fell asleep in his chair. If not for the pain in his chest, he would already have been sleeping.
He stood up on trembling legs and followed her out.
The cold rage had left him, leaving him feeling completely numb. It had left him at the most crucial part (show this happening. Show Tom's rage rapidly subsiding, leaving him apathetic and EXTREMELY tired.)
What's happening to my body?
They had let him sleep for a few hours, but Mrs. John came into his room to wake him before church service.
"Never go a day without thanking the lord," she said.
(TOM fell asleep in the stall; this way, the other orphans didn't see him. LOl. Didn't even realize this)
Tom was still deathly tired. He managed to comb his unruly hair down enough to where he looked presentable. And followed her down the lifeless halls.
Her hair was long and brown, and she was in her mid-thirties. She turned around in the hall and said, "Oh, and you'll be cleaning the bathroom for the next year during playtime. So don't miss a day."
Tom didn't say anything. He didn't even feel anything, either. All he felt was tired. So tired of life. He was left with a dull, ever-present hatred for everything around him. He hated everyone -- the caregivers, the orphans, the alleyway boys. Even Mrs. Berry had left him. And because of it, he hated her too. All he had was himself.
When they reached the prayer service. Everyone bowed their heads except Tom.
He stood tall, his body confident.
God, if you exist, thank you for making me. But know that I'll never bow down to you. I don't care if you healed me. I don't care if you exist. But if you are real, know that I hate you. You allow evil to persist, and for that, I'll never forgive you. Know that if I had the chance, I would kill you right here and now because you don't have the right to exist in MY world.
Amen.
