Little Tom did not know why he felt this way. He tilted his head, feeling somewhat uncomfortable, and frowned as he silently took a few steps back. The woman before him seemed to be provoked by this action. With a desperate scream, she jolted Little Tom awake from his dream.
Seeing the familiar surroundings, Tom breathed a sigh of relief. He threw off the covers and was about to get dressed when he turned to look at the old woman sitting nearby. "Matron! Why did you fall asleep sitting up?" He quickly climbed out of bed, slipped on his shoes, and ran to the chair, reaching out to shake Old Headmaster's hand.
It was no longer warm, but stiff and cold. For the first time, Tom felt fear. He could not help tightening his grip and raising his voice into a near-scream. "Matron! Wake up, hurry!"
His cries soon drew the early risers. Mrs. Cole kicked open the door with an impatient look on her face. When she saw Old Headmaster with her eyes closed, the wrinkles between her brows were deep enough to crush a fly. She rushed over and placed a hand beneath Old Headmaster's nose, only to discover in shock that the matron had stopped breathing.
"God! Old Headmaster is dead! Damn it! Move aside."
Tom was shoved harshly to the floor. His mind buzzed, and the noisy sounds around him seemed to vanish into thin air, leaving only the word "death." What did that mean? Like Mother, would Old Headmaster never open her eyes to look at him again?
Why did people die? Just last night, he and the matron had said goodnight to each other. Why had everything changed when he woke up? Would there never again be someone to stroke his hair and smile as she told him stories? No one would hold him anymore, and he would never feel that warmth again. No one would say goodnight to him, and no more goodnight kisses would fall upon his forehead.
Curled into a ball on the floor, the panic in Tom's heart turned into deep fear. Hugging his head, he kept praying. If God truly existed, please open your eyes and look here. Please let the matron wake up again...
Tom did not know how long he had been alone before he got up and left the room. Seeing the people around him sobbing nonstop, he did not understand why he could not cry. He was Old Headmaster's favorite child, wasn't he? He could clearly feel it—his chest felt as though a huge hole had been torn open.
But why could he not cry?
"You freak! The matron was so good to you, and you can't even shed a tear!" An older boy reached out and shoved Tom to the floor. Everyone was heartbroken, but this child favored by the matron showed no reaction at all! That was far too abnormal!
"Billy, don't bother with him!"
Tom lowered his head and looked at his palm. There were tiny scrapes on it, with dust and small pebbles embedded in the wounds. They should have hurt, but why could he not feel anything? It was as though... he was dead too. Perhaps he really was abnormal.
Without arguing back, Tom was like a doll that had lost its soul as he dazedly walked to the rocking chair where Old Headmaster often basked in the sun. "Matron... do all the people I like leave me? I've heard Mrs. Cole complain that I'm a strange child..."
"Was I born unable to cry? Am I a child abandoned by God..."
"Sss~ Humans really are strange~"
The sudden hissing startled Tom. He turned his head and looked around for the source of the sound. That cold, sinister voice definitely had not come from anyone he knew. Who would come to the orphanage for no reason just to eavesdrop on him?
Before you continue