Past VI.

November 26, 1972

In what could be called a play room—a space where kids could meet when they were allowed to and play board games, draw, and create using the supplies provided for the orphanage—Theo sat cross-legged on the hardwood floor warmed by the sun. Theo's gaze was focused on the colorful classic Ludo game that was in front of him.

"It's your turn, Ethan," Eileen said, glancing over at Ethan, who was fixated on the tokens he was playing as. When Ethan rolled the dice, it stopped at six after a few spins. When he rolled, Ethan's eyes widened with joy.

"Ethan, please add another token," Eileen said, assuming a cross-legged with her elbow resting on the floor and her head propped up in her hand.

"I'm almost home," bickered Ethan, a playful grin spreading across his face. "You just want me to lose, just so you can win!" 

"Yeah, and then me or Theo will kick out your token again, before you even get home," Eileen insisted. Ethan rolled his eyes at her and rolled the dice again, this time getting a four.

He moved his token ten steps, getting three steps away from home. But Theo stood four steps behind him and it was his turn now. 

"Please don't be a four," Ethan prayed as Theo rolled the dice. 

"Please be a four," Theo wished, his eyes fixated on the dice as if they were glued to it. And it stopped at four.

"Are you serious?" Ethan got up abruptly, looking ragged. "I'm not playing anymore," he hurriedly stated. Before he could get away, Theo grabbed his arm. "Come on, you still haven't lost!" He made an effort to calm Ethan. "I guess." Ethan sat back at his place."I'm sorry," he apologized. Just then, a woman dressed in a crisp maid uniform entered the room. She held a small silver bell in her hand and gave it a gentle shake. "Everyone head to dinner," she instructed. The children in the room began to leave, their footsteps echoing softly against the wooden floor.

The maid approached Theo, her eyes avoiding his. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I didn't have time today," she said. Her voice was flat, devoid of any real regret.

"It's okay, Mom. We can spend time together some other day," Theo replied, forcing a smile. They never did.

Dinner was quiet, the only sounds were the clinking of utensils and the faint aroma of pasta wafting through the air. Ethan poked at his food, his face growing paler with each hesitant bite.

"Are you okay? You seem pale," Theo asked, his voice tinged with concern. Ethan looked up, giving a weak nod before placing his fork next to his barely touched plate.

"You finished yet?" Theo glanced at Ethan's almost full plate, his worry deepening. Mrs. Agnes suddenly appeared behind Ethan, her hands resting heavily on his shoulders.

Ethan's heart raced and his body trembled a bit as she leaned in close, whispering in his ear. "Relax. Don't look so frightened. We wouldn't want anyone discovering our little secret, would we?" Theo couldn't hear this, but she then raised her voice and distanced herself from Ethan, continuing to speak. "Theo's right, Ethan, don't leave the food to waste."

"I can't eat any more," Ethan replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Only this time," Mrs. Agnes said, her tone dismissive as she walked away. But it wasn't just this time. 

Over the next few months, Ethan's aversion to some food grew stronger. He lost a significant amount of weight, though he never vomited after eating. After dinner, Theo and Ethan returned to their room. They changed into their pajamas and drifted off to sleep, the room growing colder as the night wore on.

—

Theo found himself standing in an old apartment that felt both familiar and foreign. It was his old home. The room was littered with broken wine bottles, but in the corner stood a small Christmas tree decorated with red and gold ornaments. The scene was from three years ago, just before Christmas.

His mother, a brunette with long hair, sat on a dark red couch that was slowly falling apart. Theo's hair was black, after his dad. But his eyes were just as blue as his mother's. She was wrapped in a blanket, her eyes fixed on an old television set nestled between bookshelves. She turned to look at Theo, but her face was blurred, a haunting absence where her features should be.

The sound of a key turning in the lock echoed through the apartment. A man, dirty and disheveled, stumbled in. Theo's mother quickly motioned for him to go to his room, but he stayed, watching the unfolding drama. His parents argued, his mother pleading for a normal Christmas without alcohol. It was supposed to be for Theo's sake.

The scene shifted abruptly. Theo's father approached him with a knife, his vision flooded with red. But that had never happened. Then, his father lay on the floor, blood pooling around him. Another shift, and Theo was outside in a snowstorm, his mother standing beside him with a small bag. His father had kicked them out.

The wind bit at Theo's skin, chilling him through his thin pajamas. The streets were decorated for Christmas Eve, but the festive lights only highlighted the stark coldness of their situation. Snow covered everything, muffling the sounds of the city.

His mother waved down a taxi, her long coat flapping in the wind. They got in, and Theo sat in the back seat. The driver, a faceless figure, drove them through an endless forest. The car stopped in front of an orphanage. The driver turned to look at Theo, his face grotesquely deformed. Theo's vision turned red again.

His mother, now inexplicably covered in blood, looked at him with sad eyes. Theo opened the door and ran toward the orphanage gate. Mrs. Agnes stood there, her face also smeared with blood.

 Theo's vision cleared momentarily.

"Hello, my dear cousin," Mrs. Agnes said to Theo's mother.

Theo woke up with a start, his heart pounding. The flashbacks of that snowy night from three years ago when he was six lingered, the cold seeping into his bones. His mother had talked about going to her cousin's place back then, but he could never have known that the person he's going to spend most of his life with would be Mrs. Agnes. Out of all the relatives his mother chose her—maybe just to get a job at the orphanage. Mrs. Agnes—apart from his mother and dad, was the first relative he has ever met. If only his mother had chosen anyone else she'd still be alive years later.