Damian gave a slight nod as he followed the matron into the dormitories, with Cassie trailing behind him, her sad demeanor still there.
As Damian and Cassie entered the dormitories, they were greeted by the sight of many other children, both boys and girls, all in different age groups. Damian quickly noticed that some of them looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and indifference.
The dormitories were simple, with bunks lined up against the walls and each child having a small trunk beside their bed.
"This is where you will sleep and keep your personal belongings," the Matron said to Damian. "There are bathrooms and washrooms at the far end of the room."
The Matron gestured to an open bunk near the window.
Then, Damian quickly thanked her again for allowing them to stay at the orphanage.
"You're quite welcome, Damian," she responded. "Make yourselves at home — as much as is proper, of course."
The Matron gave him a gentle but firm look,
"Rules here are simple: lights out at eight, silence during study hour, and always answer when spoken to. But so long as you follow them, you'll find this a safe place."
She then eyed Cassie with quiet concern,
"And if your sister needs someone to talk to... the chaplain visits every afternoon. Sometimes words get easier with time — and a kind ear."
"Now then… supper will be in an hour. Try to get settled before then."
Damian nodded in understanding, and when the matron left, he set his gaze on the different people who filled the dorm.
'Everyone looks normal, at least,' he thought. 'That guy just keeps staring, like, damn, he hasn't even blinked.'
Damain took a moment to look around the dormitory, he noticed some of the children stealing glances in him and Cassie's direction. They seem to be curious about the new arrivals, and he could hear their hushed whispers of "Who are they?" and "Where did they come from?"
Some of the older kids didn't pay much attention to them, either engrossed in their conversations or playing games. However, a few of the younger ones glanced curiously at Cassie, who is still standing in silence beside him.
Then, Damian decided to sit on the edge of the bunk, his back straight. Cassie lowered herself beside him like a shadow given shape. She stared at her hands in her lap, not speaking, not moving much at all.
After a moment, One of the other girls—older than Cassie but still young—glanced over from across the room. Her name is Agnes; she's been here nearly three years and knows how silence can eat someone alive.
She didn't come too close to either Damian or Cassie, rather just leaning forward and saying softly,
"They don't ask you to talk right away… but they do want to know if you'll eat."
She quickly paused, then added,
"The stew's warm tonight. Better than yesterday."
Damian didn't respond at first, he was just surprised at how quickly the girl had engaged them, they haven't even been in the orphanage for ten minutes and there was someone already eager to talk to them.
'Who the fuck is she?' Damian thought, as he turned his head to see who was talking to him. 'I should respond gently.'
"Who doesn't ask right away?" Damian asked.
Agnes gave him a small, knowing smile, one worn by time and too many quiet nights,
"The Matron doesn't. The chaplain doesn't. Even Sister Clara, who grumbles about idle hands, leaves the quiet ones be… at first."
'The 'quiet ones'? Who the fuck is she referring to?' Damian pondered, until he realized she was probably referring to Cassie, who hasn't even said anything since arriving in the orphanage.
Agnes quickly glanced toward Cassie again,
"But they'll bring you food. And they'll stand there until you take a bite. Not to be cruel—just to make sure the silence doesn't turn into something worse."
"They lost children before... to sorrow," she continued, her voice even softer. "You're allowed to grieve here, Damian. But you're also supposed to live."
Damian responded with a stare, one that showed he agreed with what she had been saying.
Agnes offered a quick but sincere nod, taking one last moment to hold his gaze. Damian sensed the depth of her words, not just as advice but as a quiet lesson she's learned. Then, she turned her attention to some of the younger children who had came to ask her something.
Meanwhile, Damian noticed a small group of boys eyeing him and Cassie from across the room. One in particular caught his eye—a boy named Thomas, the one that kept staring at him earlier. He looked a little older than him, his expression a mix of curiosity and wariness.
'This same fucker again,' Damian taught.
"What's up with that kid?," Damian asked agnes.
Agnes glanced over at the group, following Damian's gaze to Thomas. She gave a slight shrug but her smile told a different story.
"Thomas?" She began. "He's... complex. Been here for about a year now; his circumstances were a bit rough. He's not one to trust easily and he has a short fuse, but he also looks out for the little ones, in his own way."
"He may eye you and your sister now…" she continued. "But he's mostly just curious and feeling you out. He will either warm up to you or keep his distance."
"Okay and you?" Damian. "Why the sudden approach?"
Agnes gave Damian a small chuckle, as she responded. There was an understanding in her gaze as she took his measure.
"Call it a mix of old-timer experience and a bit of sympathy," she said. "My own arrival here was not the picture of bliss. I know what it feels like to stumble in with a shattered heart."
"Besides," she adds with a knowing look "… I have a soft spot for the quiet ones."
"The quiet ones?" Damian curiously said.
Agnes nodded, "What can I say? The quiet ones have stories that often speak more than words ever could."
"You, for instance… I have a feeling you and your sister carry more weight on your shoulders than your age should allow."
"Am I far off the mark?" She asked.
"Close enough," Damain responded.
Agnes quickly stands, brushing off her skirt. "Well. I'll leave you be now. But if either of you need a guide, or just someone who won't ask too many questions at first, you know where to find me."
Then, the dinner bell rang in the distance, low and firm.
"Time to eat," she said. "Don't let the stew go cold… and don't let your sister forget to breathe with it."