Dark Friends (7 page)

              Amelia rounded another corner, and she passed by the door that led to the underground kitchen. Like she did everyday, Amelia wondered about the conditions down there. She could perfectly recall Neena and Aaron, as well as the names of all the other kids she had known, so long ago. She doubted that they remembered her. Maybe when they used her innovative garbage line one of the older kids would recall the precocious pre-pubescent girl who had created it. Or not. She continued on her circuitous route to Ellis' office, thinking on his recent behavioral changes. He had become very clingy to her, oftentimes demanding that she hold him throughout the night and constantly reassure him that she would never leave him. She knew that his desire for her was more than just physical, she was not extremely attractive anyway. No, he actually preferred Amelia because of her mind. He asked her questions constantly: How to deal with staff issues, the orphanages' finances, health issues and anything else he could think of. She was his confidant, and though he retained ultimate authority, she had significant influence. Amelia knew almost everything that happened at Lisson Orphanage, in real time. One thing Ellis never, ever talked to her about, however, was the adoption process. On that particular issue, Amelia was just an ignorant orphan.

              Ellis dreaded the adoption phone calls. They were so insistent, so demanding. There was some white-collar bastard in an office, in some city hundreds of miles away, telling him what he had to do. Ellis was told that there would be a couple coming to Lisson the following day, and they wanted an older child. Somehow they had gotten a list of all the kids under his care, and the adoptive couple could reference the list at any time they were in his orphanage and demand to see a particular child. Ellis was powerless to stop them. If he showed any resistance, they would phone the adoption agency and hoards of administrators would descend on his little fiefdom, inspecting every crevice. He could not allow this, so he was forced to cater to the adoptive couple like they were Jesus and Mary themselves. After an adoption phone call, Ellis always felt stressed, and on this day, he called Amelia to come alleviate his tension.

              When Amelia entered Ellis' office, she immediately recognized his mood. She had spent years as his slave and confidant and she could read his body language masterfully. His shoulders were drawn high, nearly to his ears. His head drooped forward slightly. He leaned forward, one hand on his desk, one on the armrest of his chair. Amelia took in all these things at a glance. She was still uncomfortable with being Ellis' secret adviser. She feared that he would tell her something in the heat of his lust, something destructive, and she would be forced to act. He might also start expecting too much from her, assuming that she could instantly decipher every passing phrase, every slight gesture. She had long ago resigned to being the man's sexual servant, but the risk of being his
consigliere
was too great for her cautious nature.

              “Come here” Ellis instructed, not even looking at her.

              “Gladly” Was Amelia's one-word response. Her days of 'Yes sir” were over. Well, at least in private they were. Amelia didn't rush over to Ellis and drop to her knees, though. Instead, she made her way to him at a slow pace, examining his office methodically. She knew that Ellis liked this, the anticipation. She took her time, making him wait. His office hadn't changed in the two days since she had last been there, her first glance had told her that, but she needed time to think.

              “I haven't got all day, bitch” Ellis said, tiring of her lackadaisical approach. That's new, Amelia thought. Ellis loved when she took her time, teased him. She figured that he repelled everyone else in the world, so when she voluntarily spent more time than necessary with him, he made no protests. In the last two years, Ellis had only once ever been this impatient, when a girl had been adopted. Could that be it? Perhaps adoptions were the big stressor that Ellis couldn't tolerate. Amelia made a mental note.

              After she had pleased him, Ellis told her to get dressed and sit down, he had something that he needed her advice on.

              “Amelia, how do you make someone keep a secret? Make sure they never tell anyone, ever?”

              “The only sure way is to kill them” She said callously. Ellis thought on her words, then shook his head no.

              “Killing is not an option in this case. These are people who we can't kill.”

              “You could blackmail them. Threats, bribes, persuasion, compromise...There are several techniques to get what you want.”

                “True...” Ellis paused. He figured that he could just tell her exactly what the problem was, then she could more accurately advise him. The problem with that, however, was that he never wanted her to know about the possibility of adoption. Ellis had worked hard to ensure that Amelia was bound to him and that she would refuse to be adopted, even if it became a choice. On the verge of saying too much, Ellis checked himself. No, he could not use her mind for this problem. Too risky.

              “Go back to work.” Ellis said finally.

              “Can't wait to see you again.” Amelia lied.

                                                                                                                             
Chapter 12

              After a hard day's labor, Amelia lay in her bed, thinking. She was the only orphan in the compartment, the others were still bathing or finishing their tasks. With her elevated status as Ellis' favorite, Amelia was the first orphan to finish her work, eat, drink and bathe. Since her encounter with Ellis earlier in the day, though, she had felt uneasy. She had trouble focusing, her stomach churned and she seemed to drop everything as soon as she picked it up. Distracted. What was causing it, though? She felt it in the air, her brain made the connections, but the words wouldn't form on the tip of her tongue. She took a deep breath, trying to relax. After a minute, it came to her; change was in the air. She could feel it. Something was going to change, not to the other orphans, or the facility, or even the counselors. The change would be in
her
life, she just knew it. Fearful, Amelia took out a bright pink notebook, a gift from Ellis, and she started writing. She wrote everything that she could remember, which was, well, everything. She briefly described her first two orphanages and her subsequent transfer to Lisson. She described her first day in excruciating detail, rousing old emotions as she wrote. She discussed the laundry room, the kitchens, the patio and...the abuse. As she wrote, other girls were filing into the compartment, preparing to rest. Amelia paid them no mind. One counselor got close to Amelia, trying to see what she was writing, but he could hardly read himself, so he assumed it was just a teenage girl keeping her journal. He knew he should confiscate it, but the girl was Amelia, so he checked himself. She continued writing, describing every job she had done at Lisson, however small or brief. Using similar terminology, Amelia thought wryly, she discussed her first rape. She wrote of the third floor, of the...pain. Amelia wrote for hours, nearly filling her notebook. When the lights were turned off, she wrote in perfect darkness, her mind seeing the paper as clearly as if she used her eyes. She knew she would spell everything correctly and stay in the lines. It was well past midnight when she stopped. She had made it all the way to the present day and her fingers hurt tremendously. She left her work unsigned as she tried to fall asleep, ignoring the insistent throbbing of her hand and wrist.

                                                                                   
Chapter 13

             
The following morning, Ellis assembled all of the counselors at 5 am. They stood at rigid attention in neat ranks. Ellis walked amongst them, inspecting their uniforms. He didn't need to; they were pristine.

              “Today there will be an adoptive couple here.” He let this sink in for a moment, then continued, “There are powers that be, powers that we must submit to.”

              “Sir?” Gene asked.

              “I'm glad you asked, Gene” Ellis said immediately, causing a ripple of laughter, “The adoptive couple have a list of every orphan here and they can demand to see anyone at anytime. So, there will be no hitting the kids, no yelling, nothing to draw attention to ourselves. If we appear abusive, this couple will phone
my
boss. Then, heads will roll.”

              “So what do we do? Just...nothing?” Gene asked again. The counselors were confused, they had never had to work under such stringent conditions.

              “Just tell the kids what to do, keep them in line. Above all, let's just keep these people happy and get them the hell out of here without incident. Dismissed.” Ellis answered, dissolving the meeting. He watched the counselors go to their respective assignments, waking the kids up and getting them ready. This is the day, Ellis thought, the day where I pull a curtain over the world's eyes.

                                                                     
Chapter 14

              A small knot of pain flared in Steven McCree's lower back, prompting him to ease his luxury sedan into an abandoned gas station lot.

              “Thank goodness we stopped, I need to move around” Catina said, climbing out of the passenger door. She held her arms over her head and arched her back deeply, taking a huge breath. Her lips lifted into a grin as she watched her husband, Steven, get out of the car and try to touch his toes. His attempt proved unsuccessful.

              “We're almost there, babe, less than an hour to go.” Steven said, slowly lifting himself to an upright position.

              “I know. I'll be fine.”

              “Me too.” He responded, though he felt like his veins and joints were filled with silver after their five-hour car ride. Not that the ride had been unpleasant, he thought, they had driven across the beautiful American countryside and seen amber waves of grain and even some purple mountains.

              At forty-four, Steven McCrees could still run a half-marathon in under three hours and keep up with high-schoolers at the local gym's basketball court. He was a well-regarded psychologist whose paper “False Transmissions from the Id to the Ego” had made him a regional celebrity. He never smoked, drank or did drugs, and he figured it was because his wife, Catina, made his life interesting enough.

              “Do a few Warrior poses, loosen up your hips.” Catina said.

              Catina McCrees, formerly Bethel, was Steven's wife and endless source of entertainment. She taught Yoga and ballet to privileged children and her only regret in life was that she could not bear her own child. Her lithe figure and long, strawberry blond hair attracted men's stares everywhere she went, though she only had eyes for her husband.

              “I'll do a few Warrior poses if you'll run ten laps around this lot, then drop and give me fifty.”

              “Let's just compromise, then.” Catina said, circling the vehicle and wrapping her arms around Steven's shoulders. The two embraced for a moment, one of their last moments as a childless couple, before they got back on the road towards Lisson.

              “This list sucks.” Catina said, eyeballing the forms that the agency had sent them, “They are just names! What about the kids ages, their appearances, their histories!”

              “They'll have that stuff at the orphanage, don't worry.” Steven said for the umpteenth time during the drive. He knew that Catina was just anxious about their decision and that she would calm down once they could see what they were dealing with. If he were completely honest with himself, Steven was disappointed with the agency's efficiency, as well. Even getting the list of kids' names had felt like pulling his eyeballs out with tweezers. The whole experience had felt like they had to take all the initiative, do all the legwork, to adopt a child. Before the process had begun, Steven imagined dealing with professional government workers who would be more than eager to liberate themselves from a burden on the system, instead, he had been met with resistance and procrastination.

              “Let's talk about the names, then. After all, if we want a teenager, we can't change her name.” Steven said, trying to think more positively.

              “I like “A” names.” Catina replied.

              “Not this again. I can't think of any good “A” names that go with “McCrees”

              “Abigail, Arlene, Alida, Alma...” Catina began.

              “Don't sound right with McCrees. We need an “M” or “S” name”

              “Let's just decide when we see the girls. I mean, will we really disqualify the perfect girl because her name?”

              “I guess not” Steven conceded. He loved having trivial little arguments with Catina. In reality, he would give her whatever she wanted, not because he feared her, but because he loved her that much. They had already decided to get an older child, at least twelve to fifteen, because they were too old for an infant. They wanted to make an impact on their adoptive child during their most critical years. If all went well, they would adopt another child after the first one moved out. They wanted a girl because Steven's older brother had four boys. His younger brother had two. The family didn't need more boys.