Tears of guilt

Oliver followed the principal to his office. He didn't know what the principal wanted to talk about so badly, but he just wanted to convince him that there was a need to do something quick about the werewolf attack.

"You know the detective can't be entirely wrong about suspecting you, mister Logan," the principal said.

"This issue is becoming really worse, and that is making it seem less coincidental, so I'm going to ask you, Oliver Logan, what do you know?"

"Sir, I already told you that there's a werewolf, but you didn't believe it. I warned you that if something isn't done quickly it's going to get worse, but you didn't listen, now someone else is hurt, and we don't know who's next." Oliver said.

He continued.

"It's good that you called me here because last night, I did see someone wandering around the courtyard. I have a strong feeling that must be the werewolf," he said.

"Speaking of last night, I was meaning to ask you, what did you leave your room to do?" the principal asked him.

Oliver's heart skipped immediately after he heard the question. He became puzzled at what the principal meant, as he was sure that Xavier was the only person who knew he left his room last night.

Still yet to give an answer to the question asked, the principal put on a video on his device and showed him. Behold, on the video, was the door to his room. Oliver immediately understood what was being shown to him. It turned out that the hostel master sitting in front of his door wasn't the only measure the principal applied to keep his movements on radar, a hidden camera had also been installed right in front of his door and last night it captured every of his movements out and inside the room.

"So I'm going to ask you again, mister Logan, what was your reason for leaving your room last night?" the principal asked him for a second time, sounding really clear this time.

Oliver sighed.

"I needed to have a much closer view of the person that roamed around the courtyard since I couldn't see clear enough from the window," he explained.

"Did I not give you strict warnings never to leave the hostel at night, and to leave this case for the professionals to handle?" the principal asked, "Yet you decided to disobey me, precisely doing those exact same things I specifically forbade you of doing."

"I never meant disrespect sir, but you don't expect me to just sit tight and watch those lazy HCI agents do nothing while every other person gets torn apart one after the other by this werewolf," Oliver replied.

"And you," he continued, "what happened to putting yourself in the line and protecting your orphans at all costs, when all you do is sit right there all day long, doing nothing? I am indeed disappointed."

"Enough of this, young man!" The principal sounded upset. "You do not talk to your principal that way, remember your place!"

"You demand respect," Oliver replied, "yet you wouldn't stand by your words."

The principal sighed disappointedly, diverting his gaze to his desk.

"I wouldn't take your words to heart," the principal said soberly, "You're young… curious… naive. You'll never know how much it costs… for the limited human liberty you're still enjoying. No… you'll never know how painful and grievous they are; the decisions I'm forced to make for the orphanage to go on.".

He stood from his chair and slowly walked across the room to where the painted portrait of the highly revered religious figure: the blessed virgin Mary, was hung up on the wall. Gazing soberly at the portrait on the wall, he said;

"When my diocese bishop learned that I had accepted the job offer from the pope to work in the orphanage, he warned me that… that this job wasn't for the faint-hearted. I never knew what he meant then, neither did I care, but all these years I finally learned the hard way that the yoke of responsibility I willingly took was no easy one."

Oliver gazed on at him, listening earnestly, his calm earnest eyes steadfastly assuaged.

"The orphanage already had a handful of enemies in high places; people with vile intentions of turning thousands of innocent orphans into mindless soldiers, just to fulfill their selfish interests. I've taken so many terrible actions for the sole purpose of keeping my orphans safe, most of which had resulted in losing some along the way, and I'm forced to live with those hurtful regrets and guilts. Each day I try to make up for all my wrongs, but some deeds just can't be undone. At night I can't sleep, I… see their faces; a neverending reminder of my failure. Sometimes… I try to pray, but my guilt subdues me. I ask myself; 'I can't even forgive myself, how can god ever forgive me?' I am no saint, I'm just a sinful mortal with many flaws, trying hard to rewrite his wrongs."

"I wonder why you're telling me all this," Oliver said, "You haven't even made any effort to end this repeating frenzied werewolf assault."

"I'm doing the best I can," the principal said solemnly.

"Tell that to the boy who was attacked today," Oliver replied shortly, "Oh, wait you can't cause he's probably dead by now, and that's on you."

There was silence now. Principal Moses left where he stood and slowly walked back to the desk area where Oliver sat.

"He's not dead," the principal said in a low tone, "but they say he's in a very critical state, bionic transplantation might be his only choice."

"Guessing that means turning him into a cyborg," Oliver said, "I bet there's no way to sugarcoat that."

Oliver studied his eyes and noticed that they were gradually misting, and he was trying hard to maintain a firm stare so he wouldn't accidentally break a tear.

He cleared his throat and looked up at Oliver.

"It really struck me hard when the news about that boy; Gaius Theodore, came to me," the principal said.

"So that's his name; Gaius Theodore," said Oliver.

"I may have aged a lot, but I still keep account of all my orphans individually, their names and their stories.," the principal replied.

"Gaius was only six when I took him here. His father had died before his birth and his mother also, following his birth. He was left with a relative who later went missing drastically at the bottom of the Pacific in the course of a scientific expedition by the matrix. That was how he was finally brought here. The point I'm trying to make is that this boy was entrusted to me to be his legal guardian till whenever he found a forever family, or if not, came of age to be independent, but instead of him getting the care and protection he was meant to enjoy for being here, he gets the opposite."

He paused for a while now and brushed off the drop of tear that had finally rolled down his eye. Oliver, on seeing this, couldn't help but gaze on with narrow thoughtful eyes. He was totally confused and mystified by the sight; a full-grown man matured both in age and at heart, unable to contain his emotions even while in the presence of a thirteen-year-old. Oliver couldn't think of any way to describe this except with the word; ironic.

"I couldn't protect him, and now… now his life is ruined because of my own shortcomings. I don't want the same thing happening to you; Oliver Logan, that's why I need you to stay clear of this fight. I understand your persistence and selfless determination, but your life is what matters the most to me, so I'm asking you for the final time to leave this to me," the principal said to him.

Oliver didn't say any more to the principal till he left the office, though he still had it in the back of his mind that quitting wasn't an option he would easily take.

It was soon evening now. Right from when the news about the attack was being made know them, there had been a sticking observable change of atmosphere in the orphanage. There was no longer a group of twelve-grade girls chattering away noisily along the hallways, nor were there a bunch of bumpy seven and eight-grade boys brutishly bouncing around basketballs on the court. There was unusual silence everywhere, and all the pathways and hallways were scanty. People scarcely gathered together, each remained in their separate corners, minding their own safety.

Meanwhile, within the dormitory building was Jasper, moving hastily along the empty hallway. He held tightly against the side of his neck, a bright yellow piece of fabric, partly smeared with some deep red liquid. A red viscous liquid which looked like blood was also dripping from his hand holding the yellow fabric, causing drop stains on the college of his shirt. With the way groaned under his voice in agony, there was no doubt he had sustained an injury

He soon arrived at the general lavatory which was usually empty most of the time, as almost everyone preferred using the one already provided in their various rooms. As he got inside, he removed the bloodstained yellow cloth from his neck, revealing a deep long scratch that ran from the end of his clavicle, halfway up his neck. He immediately headed for the nearest sink to wash it off with the running water from the tap, as the wound was bleeding uncontrollably.

The lavatory door swung open shortly. Jasper immediately raised his head to check who it was. Standing there at the door was his roommate; Shelter McHenry. Jasper sighed annoyingly and continued scooping water on his neck.

Shelter seemed a bit shocked as he saw the wound on Jasper's neck.

"What happened?" he whispered almost voicelessly.

"I told you this isn't helping," Jasper replied rather bluntly, "I nearly got caught."

"You got any better idea?" Shelter replied. "Let's just be super careful next time," he added.