The days passed slowly, blending into one another, but I felt like I was suffocating there. I watched everyone move around me while I remained still—fading little by little. The constant whispers were exhausting, the smell of the place grew worse, yet no one seemed to care. We were rarely allowed outside; the place was almost isolated. The courtyard was surrounded by a fence, and we could only leave when no one was around. They didn't want anyone to know about our condition, our health, or the marks of beatings that covered our bodies.
The orphanage had only a few rooms, but they were large and open. At the end of the hallway was an office, while the girls shared one room and the boys another. We all gathered in the main hall and dining area for meals—or rather, when we were allowed to eat what little remained. The soup was watery, and the piece of bread was so small that it barely covered my palm. It was never enough to satisfy our hunger. Worse, we never got anything sweet or sugary except on rare occasions, so I always stole an extra piece of bread for Mia to eat later. Once, Dr. Piotr told me that bread contained a special kind of sugar—and that idea stuck with me.
There was another section at the back of the orphanage. We always heard noises coming from there, sometimes even screams… or was it just our imagination? I thought I heard children's voices too, but we never saw what was inside. The man who frequently visited that place was named Roch—a rough-looking, hairy, and unkempt man. Sometimes, he came in with others, and we could hear trucks unloading something inside. The back windows of the orphanage were sealed shut, and the junk room—possibly connected to that facility—was completely off-limits and utterly disgusting.
Magda's relationship with Roch was tense; they argued away from our sight—or maybe that was just my impression? Yes, I was quiet, but I noticed everything. Magda was always nervous around him, especially when he lingered in the courtyard, watching the children without her permission. He was unstable… I knew that look well. It reminded me of someone from my past.
The trucks only came on Saturday nights when the lights were off. Some arrived and left through the back garage. But I had no idea what was happening there. Maybe Szymon knew. That owl-like boy—he was always watching everything.
Days passed as usual, but nothing occupied my mind more than Mia's condition and the strange smell coming from the back area. Hardly anyone passed by the orphanage—it was isolated on the edge of the forest, with the nearest village about a fifteen-minute walk away. Yet, we occasionally heard gunshots—maybe from hunters or visitors. I was deeply curious about what lay beyond the fence, eager to uncover the orphanage's secrets. Since my arrival, no one had been allowed to cross it—not even the older children. They said that those who left never returned—perhaps they were adopted or sent somewhere else.
I started watching everyone carefully, especially the adults working there. The only people who left were Magda, Mir, the cook Ilon, the nurse who rarely visited, and, of course, the wretched Roch, whose role I never understood. But he was always watching us with his unsettling gaze. Ilon was responsible for cooking and shopping, while Magda handled charitable donations—donations we never saw.
But the person who intrigued me the most was Szymon. Every morning, he looked exhausted, as if he had come from somewhere else while we were still asleep, then seamlessly blended in with the children in the main hall as if he had been there all along. I watched him closely. He talked to Zuzanna a lot, as if they shared a secret. One day, I decided to follow them. I saw him speaking to her anxiously, his voice hesitant and quick. Then, Zuzanna grabbed his shoulder firmly, dusted off his jacket, took something from him… and hid it quickly. That's when they noticed me and turned toward me.
Szymon frowned and sneered, "Little snoop! What are you doing here?" Even Zuzanna, who was always kind, looked uneasy. Something was suspicious. I needed to get out of this situation quickly, so I hesitated before saying, "The smell… I can't stand it. Every day, I suffer because of it. I just wanted to ask you to tell Magda… maybe if the place was cleaned, things would be better? Really, I can't take it… I have breathing problems."
Zuzanna smiled gently. "Really?"
I nodded quickly, relieved that I had escaped the situation.
Zuzanna clapped her hands enthusiastically. "Great idea! I'll see if we can get everyone involved in cleaning!"
Szymon, however, narrowed his eyes before smirking. "How old are you, little rat?"
I lifted my head proudly, puffing out my chest slightly. "Nine years old! And I'll turn ten at the start of next year." I knew he was younger than me and wanted to annoy him with that.
He stepped closer, looking me up and down before smirking mischievously. "You're as thin as a twig. You barely look six."
He wasn't wrong—I was short, and my body had grown frail over time, though my face still held some fullness. I stared at him silently. I had always felt destined for something greater, that I wouldn't remain just an ordinary girl. Then, without a word, I turned, sighed dramatically, and walked away. I felt his frustration behind me, and strangely, that was satisfying.
"Hey! You nosy little rat! Twig-girl! I'm talking to you!" he shouted angrily.
Zuzanna laughed and shook her head. "Her name is Karina."
Yes, my name was Karina Zakrzewo. "Zakrzewo" was the name of the village I came from. Orphans without known family names were given their village's name—shortened to "Zak." Mia was like me, but Igor… he had a real surname from the village. In the old orphanage, children with the same surname were considered siblings, and marriage between them was forbidden.
The next morning, Miss Magda told us to wait, made a phone call, then returned with a grim expression and granted us permission to clean. The children were excited to tidy up the place—everyone except Szymon, who stood aside, watching them like a commander overseeing his workers. While the others were busy, I was assigned to clean the courtyard with a few other children. I took the chance to search for an exit or anything Szymon might use to sneak out. I found nothing, but I was sure of one thing… Szymon had a way out. There had to be a hidden passage.
I was gathering dry grass near the fence, but my eyes were carefully scanning the wires. There were no gaps, no way through. That meant Szymon had a different way out. I had to watch him closely. But escaping wasn't my only concern—there was a strange smell growing stronger the closer I got to the back of the orphanage. I stepped forward cautiously, but Miss Mir's sharp voice cut through the air: "You fool, don't go there!" I quickly stepped back, forcing a submissive smile. "Sorry, the dirt is worse here." I continued my act, pretending to collect grass, while my mind raced for an explanation.
By evening, everyone was exhausted. Finally, Magda rewarded us… with grapes. I watched the children devour the tiny fruit with pure joy, as if they hadn't tasted anything sweet in ages. Their excitement made me feel ridiculous . I returned to my room, only to freeze at the sight before me. The broken window… had been sealed with a large wooden board. A wave of suffocation hit me. Who put it there? And why?
I rushed to Zuzanna for answers, but before I could speak, I heard Szymon's mocking voice: "Good, now you can suffocate in silence."
"Shut up, idiot," Zuzanna muttered sharply, ignoring his smug expression. Then, turning to me with a warm smile, she said, "The window was letting in cold air, and it wasn't fair to the girls sleeping next to it. Besides, you sleep on the floor beside it—that's not good for you. Anyway, Magda will start her night rounds again now that her foot has healed."
It didn't take long for me to believe her words. She was reassuring and kind, though I still wasn't entirely convinced. But Szymon… that fool. I knew it—the war between us had begun. From now on, I would become his shadow… until I uncovered his secret.