Body Tox (The Bodies duet #1)

Chapter 25

T he annoying ass toddler was making my knee throb, but who was I to ruin some good old practice torture at such a teachable age? These walls and their peeling papers certainly felt as haunted as the rumors surrounding this old shack. I knew every door, every corner, every hidden crook of this place.

I rustled the kid’s hair playfully. She giggled and ran off to attack some other person with her plastic hammer. I felt like I was holding my breath.

God, Evangeline was nearly a decomposed pile of rot, yet the kids here looked as happy as they could be.

Shelving units had been built since I had been here. This room used to be a quiet prayer station, but now it was filled with toys, craft paper, pens, and markers.

I could see the scuff mark of where the podium used to stand. Headmaster fuckhead droned on about sin and hell. The kids here used to be so scared that they didn’t dare speak, all consumed with the fear they’d burn in fire for simply existing.

You have been placed here for a purpose, children. Your subconscious thoughts have brought dishonor and shame to those who gave birth to you. Now, you are to repent for the sins committed.

Fuck him…he was the only sinner that lived within these walls.

I found myself wrapping my bound arms against my chest, that familiar ache blooming behind my ribs like a disease anytime I thought of that monster.

The scriptures and the bible garble were all taken down from the walls. Now, under the peeling wallpaper were kid drawings of little handprints that were all different paint colors.

The hell I endured here had been washed away, covered with these kids’ beauty and free spirits.

Spirits…

That ache returned even stronger as I walked forward, the hallways feeling the same but yet so different. Little bowls lined the kitchen counters, and the table was set up for a lunch that would likely happen soon.

Did sister Beatrice do all this herself? Was there truly no one to help her anymore?

Where did he go?

I continued past the kitchen, walking toward the basement, where there were the same creaky stairs and the same disgusting, musty mold smell.

Heading down, I instantly realized this place was even worse than the last time I had been here. It had cobwebs all over the table, and in the center sat old board games that were grime-covered and unreadable.

Has anyone opened the basement doors since I last closed them?

There was a stuffed bunny in the back corner. It, too, was tangled in the spider’s home, which was just as forgotten as the rest of the stuff here. I coughed, the debris picking up and making me sneeze.

This was Angie’s.

I remembered her always holding the ugly thing anytime she had silent services. God, Evangeline…her face definitely haunted these halls. Those big blue eyes that never met her smiles and her laugh that always sounded like she was in pain. She had tried to tell me so many times.

So many times, I brushed off the feeling that something was off.

So many times, she’d endured that monster.

“I’m so sorry, Angie,” I whispered to the stuffed bunny. “I should have listened.”

A plaque was lying on the ground, its metal covered in the dust floating around me. I kicked it, the dust displacing enough to read.

“Nigel Richman, Headmaster of Evangeline.”

Fucking prick.

As orphans, we all endured enough in our lives. Our childhood was taken from us by the absence of our parents. How could you love yourself when the assholes who are biologically programmed to love you just didn’t?

Some of the kids had lost their families to war, and others were just like me—stray dogs who were sent to the pound. Evangeline was the headmaster’s daughter, who had been adopted by him years before he founded the orphanage.

She was just like us, yet no one saw her that way. They hated that she had what they didn’t—a parent. I was the only one to befriend her. She was my accomplice in most of my schemes, helping me reach the salt to taint the chili or distracting Beatrice while I was getting the whoopie cushion ready.

I think Evangeline was my first crush. I loved that girl and looked up to her.

It was when she killed herself that I figured out exactly what the headmaster was.

He had been raping Evangeline for years, erasing her sanity little by little each time until she snapped.

I had gone into the headmaster’s room that night after Angie died. I was looking for the stuffed bunny to put on her gravestone. I knew she would be missing the ugly thing and had hoped it would give her peace in her afterlife.

I had heard someone coming and hid in a closet.

It was then that I saw him.

He had sat on the bed and started watching a video clip of Evangeline. She was crying and naked, and that monster was hurting her over and over, and worse yet, he kept telling her to be grateful for his ‘love.’

I felt my teeth nearly crack from my anger at the memory.

The feeling of his hands and disgusting body on my own invaded my mind. Nausea bubbled up my throat, threatening to paint these ugly floors. His favorite toy was broken, and the next best thing was the boy who loved her.

I had taken every taboo touch, every sloppy kiss, every painful invasion, and every punishment I accepted in silence. It kept the others safe from his abuse and was my branding of shame.

It was my punishment for not saving Evangeline when I had the chance.

For years and years, it continued. My body aged, and he thought of more creative ways to torment and use me. That asshole clearly ran away from his sins, burying them in mold and decay after I was kicked out by the system.

Surprisingly, Beatrice managed to keep the place from concaving in on itself.

Surviving the wilderness had been easier than surviving these halls.

I walked to the back of the room, raising my bound hands, and punched the dusty, broken hinges open. It allowed the window at the top of the stone to be free, leading to the outside.

Jumping up and sliding out of the decrepit shit-hole basement, I dusted myself off as best I could, trying to get rid of the memories with the action as well. I clutched that damn bunny to my chest.

A few feet away stood the big tree. Despite the torment of time, it still stood. The cherry blossom tree was covered in snow, a picturesque moment captured with the Alaskan day’s deep frost.

I had laid under the warped branches for many hours, staring at how they danced in the wind, catching the fallen blossoms and pretending they could take away the pain and shame I had felt.

Under the tree was the single gray headstone, engraved but barely legible now under the moss, dirt, and debris.

It read: ‘Evangeline lost but never forgotten.’

That was a lie.

It took one look at this place to see it was long forgotten, and every single smiling kid had no chance to be the prized puppy when no one knew this place existed as anything but the ghosts it housed.

“Hey there, Angie,” I said, leaning down and laying Mr.Snuffleupagus onto his final resting place with his owner.

“Maybe now you can sleep in peace.”

Flaying my flesh from the bones indeed.

I started to get up, and a scream sounded from inside the house—a chorus of more kids shrieking followed.

Oh fuck!

I fell onto my ass. The awkwardness of trying to get up with my hands tied was a nuisance I wasn’t expecting.

The entire house was screaming before I finally got up and ran to the front door.

Sister Beatrice was crying and holding onto Echo like her frail bones depended on it.

“Oh, blessed lord! Thank you for blessing us. We needed it! Oh god, I thank you.”

Her words were barely legible through her blubbering. Her glasses were all fogged up, and she was a sobbing mess. My hoodie had fallen off my head in the chaos, and the tiny nun gasped and stopped her sobbing enough to yank my hoodie-covered head down to her level and eye me down.

“My word! Ghosts certainly haunt these halls after all,” she said, crossing her heart and backing away.

I shook her grip off me and backed away, trying to will my hoodie back over my damn head.

“Bless you, child. Thank you so much. I promise with the lord’s ear hearing my vow. I will do right for these children. I swear it.”

Echo was holding back tears, her dark heart touched by whatever had occurred between the two of them. The kids were dancing around and cheering, running around Echo and giving her hugs as they circled her.

I tilted my head, unsure what the fuck was going on. I gave Echo a questioning look, but she looked away from me, trying to return each grubby hand, hugging and high-fiving her.

“Thank you so much. You saved us.”

Echo patted heads and tried to smile as best she could, walking forward and engaging with the hoard waiting for her. When she finally reached me at the front door, she looked back to Beatrice, who was blubbering again and holding a tablet to her chest like a treasure.

“Let’s go,” she whispered harshly to me, grabbing my bindings openly and yanking me out of the door.

I stared at the only home I really knew, backing out of the house, out of the painful past this place held for me.

The door closed, and that chapter of my life closed with it.