Kyle was still lying on the floor unconscious and completely naked. From what appeared outside through the window and the bars, it seemed like daylight had come, and it was still Tuesday—the second day since the school incident—which marked this day for Kyle as the first day of his suspension.
The door locks were being unlocked from the other side, and the noise and sounds it made—not only was the door one of those hardened steel doors, but from the mechanical sounds it made when it was being opened—really proved that this room was nothing but an old torture cell.
Kyle didn't hear any of that. He was lying face-first on the cold, hard floor, and he was sweating as if the room temperature had gone up to a degree he couldn't handle. The scars on his back were still there, but now they appeared to be healing because just yesterday Kyle was whipped hard.
And the marks still had to appear newly caused. Kyle had more scars than one could count, indicating that this was something that didn't just happen once, twice, or even thrice—but was an occasional thing. Though he was lying flat on his stomach, it was pretty obvious that some of the scars went all the way to his stomach.
Finally, the door was unlocked and opened. A young woman came in, who seemed younger than the woman who had inflicted and whipped Kyle. Her name was Sister Nancy, and she appeared to be in her late twenties—if we were to determine, she might be twenty-seven to twenty-nine—and she still looked new.
She opened the door slowly. When she did that, she hit the old and smelly bucket, and she got scared.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" she gasped, thinking she had hit Kyle with the door.
She peeped only to find out that the thing she had actually hit was nothing but a bucket. It was understandable why she would assume she hit an actual person—it was because the bucket, though old, metal, and rusted, didn't make any sound that would show it was metallic.
The bucket rolled all the way behind the door. After Sister Nancy saw that, she realized this wasn't actually Kyle—whom she knew of, but not very well. Because of his infamy around the orphanage and the information she had received, she expected a really big, bad boy—one of those highly dangerous criminals locked in their own cells, far away from the others.
From the way she carefully opened the door, there was no doubt she was very cautious about it. She looked in all four corners of the room, which wasn't much because this room looked more like a rectangular prism. Nothing much was in there—just the bed with its old yellow and brown-stained sheet, and a blanket that wasn't really a blanket because of the holes.
From the fabric, it looked like one of those itchy blankets. The walls were also stained and very old, with cracks and peeling cement. This was a very scarring sight for Sister Nancy.
When she looked on the floor, that's when she saw Kyle lying there helpless. She rushed to him, turned him around, and saw him in a state she didn't expect the infamous trouble child to be in.
The way she had no problem turning Kyle around was all the information she needed to know that this child wasn't okay—even before she saw his cracked and dry lips, and his skin which was surprisingly moist but still raised red flags.
"Hello? Hey, boy, can you hear me?" Sister Nancy tried to wake Kyle, who was out cold. No matter what she did—whether she shook him, slapped him lightly on the cheek, or felt his temperature—his pulse was faint.
"Oh my Lord in heavens," she gasped.
She put Kyle back on the floor and looked around the room, hoping she might find water.
There wasn't much to search for, so she went and looked inside the bucket, only for her to smell that dreadful stench.
She threw the bucket away so quickly that she almost threw up.
Then she went back to Kyle, who was still unresponsive. Sister Nancy was so afraid; her mind was all over the place.
"Wait here, I'm coming right back!" she said as she stormed out, running.
Not even half a minute passed before she came back, holding a large jug of water. She rushed to Kyle, picked him up again, and placed his head on her thighs.
She tried to make him drink water, but Kyle was so weak that even drinking seemed impossible. In that state, he was barely alive.
So Sister Nancy had to come up with another plan, and all she could think of was to pour the whole jug of water on Kyle's face.
For a second, it seemed like it didn't even work. Now Sister Nancy was worried and starting to tremble.
"Come on, come on, child—please wake up!" she begged.
Still, nothing happened. Kyle looked like he was gone. Sister Nancy put him down again and was about to call for help, but just as she crossed the door's threshold—
Kyle finally woke up.
He woke like someone who had just escaped a nightmare—barely making it out alive—and the way he gasped for air, it was as if he had been drowning under the sea.
Sister Nancy saw this and rushed back to Kyle, hugging him tightly, relieved.
"Oh, thank the heavens, you're still with us!" she said tearfully.
Kyle tapped on Sister Nancy's shoulder.
"I won't be with you for much longer if you keep suffocating me like this," he struggled to say.
"Oh, sorry—please forgive me," Sister Nancy said quickly, letting go.
Kyle knew Sister Nancy from the whispers and rumors among the children in the orphanage. He had heard about this mysterious new sister who was so gentle and kind. At first, Kyle thought maybe one of the other sisters from the other orphanages had come to help out while he was still locked in this room.
He just stared at her.
"What is it, child?" Sister Nancy asked.
"You must be the new sister I've been hearing about?" Kyle said.
"Yes, I'm Sister Nancy. And you must be the troublesome boy I've been hearing about," Sister Nancy replied.
"Ah, yes, I'm the convicted Kyle Matter," Kyle introduced himself.
"But you don't look that troublesome," Sister Nancy said, confused.
"Well, never trust what you hear in these walls. And you don't look like you deserve to be here," Kyle responded.
"Well, I guess we both aren't what we seem to be," said Sister Nancy.
"Come on, get up. Let's go get you something to eat—you look like you haven't eaten in a while," Sister Nancy said, helping Kyle up.
Kyle finally saw and truly believed that the rumors were true—there really was a new, kind sister at their orphanage. He'd had a hard time believing it at first because this orphanage barely had any good sisters. Regardless of being nuns, they still hated children.
Now, Kyle was sitting in the office—the same office where the older sister, Sister Prudence, worked. She was the same one Principal Stevens had once called Kyle's mother, which Kyle had dismissed.
Kyle's plate was almost empty, and from the way he ate, it was clear it had been a while since he'd had this kind of deliciously cooked food. The orphanage only cooked food like this when a priest or other church representative came to visit—which was about three months ago.
The children of the orphanage were often fed brown porridge, old expired meat, milk, and dairy products. Breakfast consisted of rock-hard bread and canned beans in tomato sauce; lunch was expired rice and beef left in a broken fridge for years; dinner was half-cooked vegetables and juice that smelled like sewage.
Most of the children would get sick, be taken to the hospital, and afterward be more likely to get adopted—since most people were suckers for sick children and would adopt them without thinking twice.
That was the orphanage's strategy, and it often worked. But when it came to Kyle, it was impossible for him to get sick, so he always returned—which made the sisters hate him the most.
"Who in their right mind released that thing out of solitary confinement, and on whose authority?!"
A mad woman's voice could be heard shouting from the other side of the office, matching her furious footsteps.
The office's twin doors swung open.