He didn’t remember falling asleep that night. In fact, Ambrose didn’t even remember getting back into his bed. But the next morning, as the sun rose, he awoke feeling especially groggy. He was nestled underneath his blanket—not for warmth, for he actually felt warm this morning. Daylight seemed to hurt his eyes more so than yesterday, and there seemed to be a sudden commotion within the room. 

Each noise seemed to pierce his skull in succession.   

Slowly he peered out from under the blanket. There were a number of people crowded around one of the beds. It was that of the newcomer yesterday. Memories of the night before were fragmented but also vivid. 

“What’s wrong?” The woman in the next bed asked. A nurse turned from the group to answer her and right before she spoke she spotted Ambrose. 

“One of the patients has taken a turn. No need to fret.” Behind her, the group seemed to move in unison. They were rolling the bed out of the room entirely, patient and all. As they passed, the girl across from Ambrose was awake. She watched them leave and when they were gone, she avoided looking at him and stared down at her hands. 

She was afraid. A few silent moments passed and the nurse returned and approached Ambrose uneasily. 

“Good morning, love. You look much better this morning. Much better than the first few days.” She leaned over and with a small bit of cloth in her hands she wiped the corner of his mouth quickly. 

“You’ll be returning to the orphanage this morning. Someone is already here waiting to take you back. A Mrs. Drummond.”

Ambrose felt his stomach drop. Mrs. Drummond was the head mistress of the orphanage and the reason most of the kids behaved. She wore the sweetest of smiles and spoke softly even when being stern. On the rare occasion the she became stone faced, usually resulted in bruises that lasted weeks. He knew that if she was here to fetch him, then he could expect a fairly unpleasant time of it. 

“Wait—few days?” Ambrose was confused. 

“Yes, dear. You’ve been here for days. Terribly glad to see you awake finally!”

The nurse helped Ambrose get sorted and prepped to leave. She brought him down to the lobby where he would be handed over to the head mistress. 

“We’ve had an awful time as of late with the children. It’s a shame we simply couldn’t find them all homes sooner, before such tragedies strike!” 

Ambrose could hear Mrs. Drummond’s voice echo throughout the hallway moments later. She was alongside Dr. Lewis who was nodding sympathetically. 

“As you can see, the boy has recovered remarkably well. The spirit of good health, all things considered of course.”

“Indeed!” Mrs. Drummond peered at the boy as they neared. Her eyes did not meet his. Instead she focused on his gown and his bare feet. Ambrose felt her scrutiny weigh heavy on him suddenly. 

“Ambrose here is all set to depart, though I fear the clothing he wore when he arrived wasn’t salvageable.” 

“I am remiss, for I have neglected to bring the boy more clothing.”

Something in her tone told Ambrose that she had not neglected out of absent mindedness. Nor did he expect her to provide him with anything other than the other set of clothes he had folded under his pillow at the orphanage—if it was still there. 

Ambrose and Mrs. Drummond travelled back to the orphanage in silence. It was like he wasn’t even there, though he could sense her discomfort. Back at the orphanage, she simply vanished into her office and shut the door unceremoniously leaving him standing in the front hall in nothing but his hospital gown. The grounds keeper passed by moments later, skulking from one wing of the building to the other. He seemed focused on some task at hand, only breaking his concentration briefly to scowl at the boy as he shuffled along. 

It was mid morning now, and being inside the large building was comforting. It had been overcast so far but the light pooling into the main corridors from some of the larger rooms broke up the rather soothing and darker interior spaces. Ambrose had the strong desire to just go to his bed and hide under the covers. He knew he couldn’t, but towards the boys dorm he headed. 

“Ambrose!” A voice called out just as he reached the door to the dorm. A small figure approached from further up the hallway. 

“Timmy,” was all Ambrose replied with. The younger boy was smiling up at him. 

“You’re back? Everyone thought you were done for!”

“Really?”

“Yeah! They took you away like you were dead,” then the boy lowered is voice to a whisper, “and some of us saw that you suddenly had a fit or something and they freaked out and didn’t know what to do with you.”

“I don’t even remember what happened.”

“You ran into the woods and they thought you attacked Charlie but then you were attacked and taken away. Charlie too but nobody thinks he will come back.”

“Charlie…” flashes of that night came back to him. 

“Come on! Some of us are …” Timmy’s voice trailed off as Ambrose recalled some details. The shocking image of Charlie’s face that night flashed before him, then he remembered running. Running into the woods. That darkness…

“Ambrose? Are you ok?” 

“Uh-huh,” Ambrose blinked away the distraction and focus on the boy in front of him. Timmy looked concerned now. Then another memory flashed—Timmy was the boy that he had shoved Charlie into by accident that day.

“Hey! I’m sorry about when I pushed Charlie. You didn’t get hurt did you?”

“Nah!” Timmy’s thick dark hair looked black as he shook his head. The grey light from outside leeched away the colours inside. His wide smile was certainly meant to be reassuring. 

“Good!” Ambrose saw that the other boy was wearing some heavier items indicating that he had been outside helping out with some yard work, or at least on his way to help. His own outfit needed to change. “Looks like I need to change.”

“Yeah!” Timmy giggled. “Looks like a dress.”

“Git!” Ambrose waved the boy off, smiling in spite of himself. 

Inside the boys dorm, the large room was empty, each of the beds in the tightly spaced rows were roughly made up. The bedding was mostly all in the same condition, tattered and worn, regardless of the material. Standing at the foot of his bed he saw that his stuff was actually tidied up. He turned and spotted the bed that had been Charlie’s. It looked just like the others. In fact, none of his belongings were there. 

Ambrose checked out his bed and found that his meager possessions were hidden away under the mattress. He found some clothes folded away so he changed into those quickly. His shoes were up against the wall under the head of his bed, out of sight. 

The grounds were largely bare, nothing but grass and hills. The stone wall encircled a small courtyard with a suggestion of a path while the rest of the thirteen acres of land that the orphanage sat upon was wedged between a long dirt road that drew taught between neighbouring towns and the large swathe of woodlands that stood proud and tall against the patchwork of farms and pastures that spread from the road. The overcast sky cast a greyness over the landscape obscuring the sun’s true position but when Ambrose stepped outside he shielded his eyes nonetheless. 

The cloud ceiling above him seemed luminous and low. The four storey building behind him offered no reprieve. With every step Ambrose felt his whole body tingle with the numbness that follows great pain. 

Timmy waved him over. He was with a small group of boys raking up leaves alongside the wall. As he approached two of the older boys looked nervous. None of the boys said anything. Ambrose could feel their eyes burrowing into his back at every chance. It would have bothered him a lot had it not been for the rising discomfort flooding his body. Everything took so much effort. 

“Maybe you should have stayed in the hospital!” One of the boys teased. 

“I felt fine when I woke up.” Ambrose explained. 

“You probably just need more rest.” Timmy added.  

Ambrose took frequent breaks but helped the group as much as he could between breaks. At one point he peered over at another group pruning some shrubs and pulling some weeds out of flower beds. In a wind just beyond was Mrs. Drummond watching them from her office window. When she gazed upon Ambrose, he sensed a wave of scrutiny emanating from her. 

He promptly resumed the yard work alongside the other boys until he felt like his was going to collapse from exhaustion. Most of the other boys were showing fatigue as well. A few of them just seemed bored. 

For rest of the afternoon Ambrose stayed underneath the reach of a few old trees or within the shadow of the building. The shade seemed to provide a small respite especially when the overcast skies above occasionally broke and let blue sky and sunshine through. He didn’t truly feel relief until nightfall.