Page 1 of Midnight Whispers
1
Then…
My stomach wrenches in hunger, twisting and turning, demanding some kind of nourishment. It’s hard not to lose track of the last time I ate anything of substance. there’s little I can do to provide food for myself when the incoming money is scarce. Dirt is flying through the night sky as I dig through the soil of this grave. Buried only a few days ago, this body is an excellent choice to bring to the medical school. They don’t ask any questions, and I don’t give more information than needed.
Unearthing a member of someone’s family should bother me, but it doesn’t. I have grown cold, my heart turned into a useless muscle. But lack of love would do that to anyone eventually.
For as long as I can remember, it’s been only me. I had been delivered to an orphanage within days of my birth, but they were overwhelmed with the number of children they had received and had no room. The nun who ran the organization had a soft spot and took me in. I was only nine years old when she died, ending up alone and put on the street. The silverlining was that finding jobs as a young child was easier than as an adult.
As a child, I was able to sweep chimneys because I was small enough to fit into the tight spaces. Even begging was an easier option for me; people were far less likely to refuse change to a child. At twenty-six with no skills or schooling to fall back on, I have resorted to burglary of most kinds and today it’s the robbing of a corpse.
There’s a thud when the metal head of my shovel hits the wooden casket beneath where I stand. I lean the handle against my make-shift ladder, and pry open the lid of the casket. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but the woman lying in the casket takes me by surprise. She looks peaceful, almost as if she’s asleep. I grab the bed sheet that I brought with me off the ladder and toss it into the casket to wrap up the corpse. After wrapping her up, I place her over my shoulder and begin to crawl up the ladder.
The night sky is dark, full of stars, as I walk through the cemetery. I pass by all the headstones, reading the names and dates briefly as I walk by. My shirt, drenched in sweat, clings to my skin as I crawl out of the hole. The summer is suffocating and thick, doing absolutely nothing to help me catch my breath.
There is little distance between where I am and the back entrance of the medical school, so I gently place the body into my wheelbarrow to make the short walk. I’ve always loved the night, where the world is quiet and I am alone with my thoughts. The constant chatter and movement in the city have always been overwhelming and it’s gotten worse with age.
I give the corpse to the doctor in exchange for fifteen dollars. It’s not nearly as much as the going rate, but it will get me at least another month of rent for the boarding house. I can probably afford some food to get me by until I can find my next job, too. After I pay the landlord my monthly dues, I makemy way to the staircase leading to the rooms. While I’m relieved to still have a roof over my head, these four walls are really starting to close in on me.
The overwhelming scent of floral perfume invades the space around me. I look up to see Betty walking down the stairs, her red lipstick glistening in the dim light.
“Hey, Finny. How you doin’, baby?” She smiles, her olive-green eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Evening, Betty.” I try to pass her and walk up the stairs, but she puts her hand on my chest and stops me.
“Why you rushing away?” She moves closer to me, her lips hovering just over my ear.
“I’m just trying to get up to my room so that I can sleep.”
I’ve lived in this boarding house off and on for the last eight months. Betty has been here for years, and she is older than a lot of the tenants as well, somewhere in her mid to late forties.
“Do you want some company?”
“No.” I hope my voice is portraying how annoyed I am.
“Oh, come on, baby,” she purrs.
“Betty, I’ve told you before. I’m just not interested.”
“You seein’ someone? She doesn’t have to know.” Her hands begin to drift down toward my stomach.
I grab her wrist, making sure it’s hard enough to help her understand. “The answer is no.” She grimaces when I tighten my hold on her wrist before I release it, where she immediately brings it to her chest. Her eyes are wide as she massages the now-red marking on her skin.
A part of me, a very small part, feels bad for causing her pain. The larger part of me, however, knows if I hadn’t, her hand would’ve kept wandering. I’ve had enough experiences with people like Betty to last me a lifetime and I don’t want to experience it anymore.
I race up the second flight of stairsand slam my door, making sure I lock it behind me. After grabbing a washcloth from my dresser, I put it into my basin of water and clean myself, attempting to get as much of the dirt from this evening off as possible.
My body aches with exhaustion; each of my muscles scream in protest, demanding I sleep. I throw myself onto my bed, landing on my stomach with my legs still hanging off. The musty mattress squeaks beneath me as I land on it. I drift quickly into a dreamless sleep.
The air is unusuallythick with heat, even for the summer, as I walk through the city looking for work. Since I overslept, most of the day jobs have already been taken. I sit on the gutter with my face in the palms of my hands and my elbows resting on my bent knees.
“Are you okay?”
I look up and am greeted with a man wearing a bright smile. His hair is so light in color, it’s almost white.
“Yes.” My answer is short, but he is unconvinced and furrows his brows.
“Do you need work?”