Chapter 10

13.3K 339 35
                                    

My bedroom door violently flies open, knocking one of my paintings off the wall

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

My bedroom door violently flies open, knocking one of my paintings off the wall. Everyone's head snaps toward the door and that's when I see him.

Dimitri.

He sends me a creepy smile, flashing his yellow rotting teeth. My heart immediately speeds up, my breathing becoming erratic.

Dimitri used to work here, taking apart in the abuse until he got promoted to director of the orphanage around two months ago. Which meant that he now dealt with things like funding and making sure the orphanage was up to code instead of having to look after the children.

He's terrible at his job, allowing the orphanage to keep running even in these awful conditions but his promotion was the best thing to ever happen to me because I've only seen him once since.

The smug look on his face is replaced with one of confusion and irritation when he sees the eight men in my room. "Who the fuck are you," He slurs, clearly drunk.

"Who the fuck are you," Dante repeats, emphasising the you.

This is met with an eye roll from Dimitri as he takes another swig of his beer. "Whatever," He mumbles before turning to me. "I got demoted," he says dejectedly.

"You'll be seeing a lot more of me around here," He says slyly, as if we're sharing some sort of inside joke.

He slams the door as I dig my nails into my sweaty palms, feeling a panic attack rising.

I rush to my draw and frantically rummage through my art supplies until I find my notepad and pen. I scribble down on it and quickly hand it to Lorenzo.

I watch intently as Darcy, her face completely drained of colour, scribbles something down in a notepad

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

I watch intently as Darcy, her face completely drained of colour, scribbles something down in a notepad. The interaction with that man clearly panicked her, I'll have to question what relation he has with my Darcy when we're torturing him down in the cells.

She shakily hands me the notepad, refusing to make eye contact with me.

'I want to go now' It says simply.

MetanoiaWhere stories live. Discover now