Intention

July 14, 1938

Thursday

Warm air whiffed through the open window. It was getting dark outside, though the wall opposite was still clearly visible with every gray brick. The evening rounds had just ended. The kerosene lamps were out. I was sitting on a chair, leaning on an old table, and looking at a white stone lying on the windowsill. Irene promised to bring chess, which she again quietly took out of the common room. She loved to play, and so did I. It became a kind of nocturnal ritual. During the day we could not really have any fun, because there were quite a lot of kids and it was not only us who had eyes on chess. When it came to us, we barely had time to arrange the pieces before play time was over and we were sent to dinner. It made absolutely no sense and stupid to make a fuss, so the other tactic, quietly and unnoticed, was received very positively by both of us.

It got dark. The air became uncomfortably prickly and chilly, which made me close the window. Now I paced my little room and waited impatiently. What was taking so long? It was long past lights out. Why didn't she ever show up? The desire to go up to the third floor was difficult to control, and the only incentive not to do it was my promise not to go out myself today, but to wait for her. The time dragged on endlessly. The clock hanging in the hallway struck my head, like an anvil, with every stroke of the second hand.

Finally, I got tired of pacing from corner to corner and, sighing disappointedly, stretched out on the bed. With a slight wave of my hand, a small light hung over the bed, and shadows danced on the ceiling. That's not something Irene knows how to do, or she wouldn't have asked me to teach her...

Sleep dragged me into its world with its clawed paws, giving me several nightmares that made me wake up and jump out of bed anxiously, but there was silence all around. Only the summer July rain pounded monotonously on the windows and roof of the orphanage.

It was morning. I peeked impatiently out of line, trying to see the table where Irene and I usually ate breakfast, but I couldn't because of the crowd of kids. I mechanically picked up the tray of food and finally made my way to the table. To my surprise, Irene wasn't there. "Something's wrong!" the thought flashed in my head, but I ignored it and decided to eat. The porridge was tasteless, the bread was like a paper. After finishing my barely sweet tea, I went straight to the study room.

"It was after lights out," the girls whispered. "They took her straight to Mrs. Cole's office..."

I experienced strange feelings. I didn't even have time to fully comprehend them, but my legs immediately carried me to the table. The girls, when they saw me, fell silent, fearfully looking down at their plates.

"Who are you talking about?"

They looked at each other cautiously, but they knew, as did everyone else, that it was better not to mess with me, or there would be consequences.

"Ah... About Irene," the redheaded girl with the big white ribbons in her plait answered quietly. Way to be a friend!

"What's the matter?"

I could feel with my whole being that the coldness with which I was asking questions made them even more afraid.

"Yesterday... Last night... She was caught after lights out on the stairs leading to the third floor... And... And she stole..."

These words made my insides surge, and I cast a hard glance at the redheaded Bella. From her reaction, I looked menacing and angry.

"I mean," she stammered, "chess. She took chess. And she got caught after lights out..."

When I got my answer, I turned around and made my way to class, which was supposed to start in fifteen minutes. How did Irene get caught? I couldn't get that question out of my head. So many times, she had slipped onto my floor, silent as the darkness itself, silent as a ghost. "That's impossible!" cold reasoning and intuition kept saying. I would ask her in class what had happened.

But Irene never showed up for class. By four o'clock in the afternoon, her absence had begun to weigh on me even more. Something had happened! Something far more serious than walking around the orphanage during lights out. She had been punished. But usually kids were punished by making do the dirty work: washing and scrubbing... Irene had been gone too long. They punished her after class, and she didn't show up in the morning. Did she...? It got dark in the eyes for a second. I banished the darkest thoughts and decided to just wait to see her and not make up things that probably weren't there.

As soon as it was walking time, I purposely left a light jacket in my room to use as an excuse to get back into the building while everyone was out. It certainly worked.

A steady, quick step, occasionally turning into a run, up the stairs to the third floor, where the girls' rooms were located. Irene's room was the same as mine, at the very end of the hall. Mine was twenty-seven, so hers was thirty-seven. A steady, insistent knock on the wooden surface. Silence. Without any ceremony, I was about to push the door open when I heard a low sob. My hand hovered in the air, and I leaned against the last barrier separating me from what I wanted. I wasn't imagining it. Was Irene crying? My heartbeat slowed. A steady jolt of the door. A fragile silhouette on the bed. She flinched at the sudden appearance in her room and immediately turned away to the window.

"You got caught, I know that. But why weren't you at breakfast, lunch, class?" I asked quietly, moving toward the bed.

"I wasn't allowed," she answered quietly, trying to get her emotions under control.

"It's strange," I reasoned, still calmly. "Usually they punish us by leaving behind after school, sending to the kitchen... They make us wash the dirty dishes and the floor..."

I slowly but surely approached Irene, but she never turned around or looked in my direction.

"What happened?" I asked again, more insistently. There was a pressing silence in response. "Are you going to be quiet?" There was a hint of dissatisfaction in my voice that I couldn't control.

I stood in front of her, intending to take the most formidable look. Only, driven by impulse, I took the pale round face in my hands and turned it gently toward me, wishing I could see her eyes. Rage, like a volcano, awakened somewhere in the solar plexus. I heard my own pulse pound in my temples. The same emerald eyes stared back at me, the same beautiful face, the only difference being the bloody crust on her lower lip. I looked down to examine her hands, and the horror was that her forearms were all bruised.

"Who did this?" My voice sounded like a hiss. Irene was still staring at me, not looking away. "Mrs. Cole? Is that her? How dare she..." The words came out through clenched teeth.

"But I wouldn't get caught," Irene finally answered.

My mouth curved into an evil grin.

"When she grabbed me on the stairs, popping out of nowhere, behind her was Chris and some of his buddies. They were watching me."

"Bold bastard..." I said through gritted teeth.

I hugged the frail body with force, but I heard a groan of pain in response. I recoiled, not wanting to cause any more discomfort. Irene silently turned her back to me and pulled off her dress, exposing her back. My eyes darkened for a split second. I was right... Huge wounds on her back. Discipline with the rod. They must have told Mrs. Cole about the bag, too. I could feel in my bones that they had unleashed all the evil on her, all the fear they'd felt toward me as well. Was I the only one who saw the resemblance? Irene was just patient, though she could have hurt them back... But then she would have just been kicked out on the street and we would never see each other again. She was patient for us.

"I'll solve everything," I swore to myself at that moment with absolute certainty, and quickly left the room so as not to arouse any suspicions.

I hurried to the playground outside the orphanage, where I realized how stupid people can be. Chris's company showed me that they had contributed to Irene's punishment. They watched me from afar as I sat on the bench and just watched everyone, wondering what to do next. Apparently, that situation where they wanted to hurt her, but she fought them back really hurt them. And that damn bag! Why would she want the money? They think I'll leave it...No. The emotions on their faces were absolutely readable: superiority and triumph over how clever they are and how gracefully they got back at her and maybe... Me?