Blood Sacrifice

Chapter One

~5 Weeks Prior~

“Morning, Clara,” a soft voice whispered into my ear.

Very slowly, I cracked open an eye and the morning sun flooded my vision. I groaned and held up my arm to shield my face as I sat up. The window across the room from the bunk bed was only scarcely veiled by a broken blind system. On most days, it served as my alarm clock.

I blinked, and when the sleep was finally cleared away, I noticed May was kneeling beside the bed, her dark blue eyes observed me carefully as I moved. I guessed that the sun had already done its job of waking her up. I knew that she must’ve been up for at least ten minutes by the way her eyes danced with enthusiasm for the day.

In the back of my mind, I wondered how she did it.

“Good morning, sissy,” she said carrying each note of her enthusiasm in her voice.

I smiled at her. “Good morning, May. Have you checked what’s for breakfast today?”

“Oatmeal,” she said tipping her head apologetically to the side. She knew I didn’t care for it.

“Again?” I asked passively.

She nodded as I stood up off of the bed. I could feel all of the joints in my back and arms pop as the stiffness slowly left me from head to toe. I carefully rotated my head, feeling the uneasiness in my neck dissolve away.

“You can have my toast today if you want,” she offered standing to her feet as well.

In my mind, I pictured the slop they called oatmeal and the cardboard they called toast. It didn’t matter how hungry I was, I would never be hungry enough for what they served us here.

I shook my head. “No way, you need to eat every bite.”

That wasn’t a lie either. I looked at my sister for a moment as she stood to her feet. She was awfully skinny for her age. Her legs looked unsteady as she walked. The malnutrition shown in more places than just her weight. Her skin seemed pale, and her long hair was brittle. There were a lot of times that I worried about her health, but I couldn’t force her to eat.

She worried about me as much as I worried about her. Both of us were stubborn about sharing our food which wasn’t much to begin with. The orphanage was very selfish when it came to feeding the children it was supposed to care for.

It seemed like the older you got, the less food you actually received. Asking for more was a foolish way to end up getting punished. All of the kids here had learned that lesson at some point in time.

As I stood unsteadily to my feet, I knew that I looked a lot like her. My bones were protruding through my skin in a similar fashion. It didn’t matter much to me. The orphanage gave us just enough food to keep us alive, no more and no less. Years had passed since the last time I had had a real meal.

I didn’t miss what I couldn’t remember.

May turned to leave the room when I set my hand to her arm. She looked at me confused.

“Something wrong?” she asked, the eagerness replaced with concern.

“What are you forgetting?” I asked her as I took my hand off of her shoulder.

“To brush my hair?” she guessed tilting her head to the side.

“And teeth,” I added as I turned my attention to the ratty old mattress I had been sleeping on not ten minutes before.

I pulled our small black comb out from underneath my mattress. I didn’t know why I felt a need to hide it. It was the only thing that I owned that came from the time before the orphanage. Part of me was fearful that the careworkers would find it and take it away as a new kind of punishment.

That didn’t seem unlikely for them.

May nodded, her thoughts a hundred miles away from mine, as she led the way to the bathroom. She nearly skipped as we crossed the hallway, and I smiled as I remembered that she was a morning person. I closed the door behind us as we crowded into the bathroom.

It was small, designed for one person’s use at a time. Both of us avoided glancing around us at the dirty white tile that lined the floor. It was filthy, definitely not suitable for humans to live in, let alone children. We had come to accept the conditions as normal.

The bathroom didn’t bother us any as we huddled closer together and took turns fixing our hair with the comb before we picked out the toothbrushes that were ours. We were quick to make ourselves presentable before we headed to the cafeteria. In the back of my mind, I knew it wouldn’t really matter how we showed up, just as long as we did.

The other kids minded their own business like we minded ours.

Neither May or I spoke as we stepped into the cafeteria. None of the kids that were already seated looked up or greeted us as got in the line. They held their silence as they picked at their measly breakfast. We picked up the porcelain bowls and headed towards the kitchen woman. She slopped oatmeal into both of our bowls as she offered us her usual frown of disgust. We didn’t notice as we kept our eyes on our bowls.

I grimaced at the brown slop that she had dumped into mine and vaguely I wondered if this was how food in prison looked. I followed May to the table where the old pieces of toast were laid out for breakfast. None of them looked remotely appetizing.

I watched as May picked the freshest looking one. I avoided picking up a piece; I knew that I wouldn’t end up eating it anyways and neither would May. The most she could stomach was half of her own piece on the average day. She balanced her bowl of oatmeal in her arm as she crunched hungrily on the bit of toast she had picked up. When we reached our usual table in the back of the room, I took the bowl from her and set it on the table before she accidentally dropped it.

I knew from experience that if you lost your food, they wouldn’t be willing to hand out seconds.

I picked at my oatmeal. I didn’t eat much of it. When I looked at it, all I could think of was vomit. The thought made my stomach twist into a violent knot. I looked at May as she dove into her pathetic breakfast.

She must have an iron stomach, I thought to myself.

Despite my thoughts, I was always glad to see she was eating…no matter what she was eating. When she was almost finished with her oatmeal, I pushed my bowl towards her slowly. My eyes were carefully scanning the room for anyone that was watching us.

Not a single pair of eyes glanced in our direction.

With a mouthful of oatmeal, May looked at me questioningly. She swallowed before she said, “That’s your breakfast, sissy.”

I shook my head. “It’s yours today. I’m not feeling too hungry.”

She looked like she was about to argue, but I broke eye contact with her. From the corner of my eye, I saw her frown and turn to my bowl to begin eating. She knew better than to argue when my mind had been made up. I looked across the room and noticed Agnus sitting at her own loner table. I frowned at the small girl; I felt bad for her.

She was about the same age as May, with short dark locks that encircled her chin when she looked up. I never saw her talk to any of the other kids, and they never seemed to notice that she existed. She had been here a number of years, the foster parents that came in seemed to overlook her as many times as they did us.

I knew it was because the orphanage had given the parents a chance to read her file, which meant they knew about her real parents. About the traumas they had inflicted on the girl.

Nobody wanted a damaged child.

I had noticed one major thing in mine and May’s time at Over the Moon orphanage. The parents that came in here were like people looking to adopt a dog or a cat. They didn’t want the old ones; they didn’t want the shy ones. The only adoptable ones to them were the energetic, young ones. The quiet types like May, Agnus, and I fell through the cracks. We were just a part of the background.

Of course, our ages didn’t help.

I had given up the hopes of getting adopted a while ago when I noticed the pattern in people that came through here. I glanced once at May to see that she was still finishing her breakfast. I knew that part of her still hoped we’d find a family. I worried every day for her; it was habit. I was seventeen; in five weeks I would be eighteen. Legally, I’d have to move out of the orphanage, which meant separation from my sister unless we found foster parents.

A lot of times I wondered if May knew that. I hoped that she didn’t.

I heard shuffling from across the room suddenly, and I realized that Agnus had set her head on the table. I looked at her sadly; I wondered if she was crying again. I stared at her longingly for a moment. I knew that it was an unwritten rule among the kids to not bother each other, but my protective instincts seemed to override that when I was reminded that she was the same age as May.

“I’ll be right back, May,” I informed her as I stood up.

She didn’t argue as she looked up from the bite of food she had taken.

I crossed the room to where Agnus was sitting. At the sound of approaching footsteps, she looked up. Her cheeks were red making the tears that had settled on them all the more apparent.

“Hi, uh…Agnus is it?” I asked her.

She nodded, looking uncertain as to why I was talking to her.

“Hi, my name is Clara. I noticed you were alone, my sister and I were eating breakfast over there.” I took a break to point to May’s back before I continued. “Would you like to join us?”

She swallowed hard for a moment. “Y-you want me to join you?” she asked uncertainly as she sniffled at wiped away the water that had collected on her face.

I nodded.

“O-okay,” she said picking up her bowl with barely-touched oatmeal.

I smiled at her as I led her over to our table. She sat down cautiously across the table from May as if she was worried about how my sister would respond. May looked up at her and smiled warmly.

“Hi, I’m May,” she said as she wiped her face clean of oatmeal.

Agnus smiled back though the look was uncertain. “I’m Agnus.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” May said.

I zoned out a bit as May and Agnus chatted the morning away. I smiled to myself. No matter who we talked to, we seemed to reach. No matter where we went, we were a family.

I couldn’t help but wonder if the orphanage would really mess that up for us.