The first thing Jennie heard was laughter. It came from somewhere down the corridor, bright and careless, followed by the sound of small feet running across the tiled floor. Someone shouted for the children to slow down, but the laughter only grew louder.
I found myself standing in the old orphanage, though I could not remember how I had gotten there. The familiar corridor stretched before me, washed in the pale yellow light that always came through the dusty windows in the evenings. The walls were still painted the same faded cream, and the children's drawings remained pinned beside the dining hall, some of them curling at the edges after years of being forgotten.
From somewhere outside came the sound of children playing. A girl's laughter carried through the open windows, followed by the scrape of chairs from the dining room and the distant clatter of plates being arranged for dinner.
I had not seen this place in years.
Yet everything felt untouched.
Even the faint smell of potatoes and scramble eggs drifting through the corridor seemed exactly as I remembered it.
I looked down at myself wearing a simple yellow dress I had owned as a child, the one with the tiny white flowers along the hem.
A little girl ran past me.
Then another.
Neither noticed me.
I smiled faintly and reached toward the third girl's shoulder.
"Wait."
The children kept running.
I hurried after them.
My bare feet made almost no sound against the tiled floor. As I passed the old staircase, my fingers brushed absently against the wall, tracing a crack I remembered making when I was younger.
Then I heard heavy footsteps behind me.
I stopped.
The footsteps stopped too.
I turned.
There was no one in the corridor.
I waited a moment, holding my breath and dress before continuing, but I had barely taken three steps when the sound returned.
This time, it was closer.
I could feel the sweaty breath against the back of my neck.I glanced over my shoulder.
Yet I saw nothing.
I quickened my pace.
The dining hall was just ahead. I could see the open doorway and the warm light spilling across the floor. If I reached it, I would not be alone anymore.
I never made it.
A hand caught my hair hard and yanked me backward. I cried out as my head snapped back. My hands immediately went to the wrist tangled in my hair, but the grip only tightened.
"Where do you think you're going?"
The voice was low.
Too familiar.
I struggled against the hand. "Please. I wasn't doing anything."
"You were told to stay inside."
"I only wanted to go to the dining hall"
The hand pulled harder.
My words broke apart as I stumbled backward with tears welling up, and before I could steady myself, another hand closed around my throat.
My back struck the wall hard.
I tried to pull the hand away, but the person holding me seemed to barely notice my struggle.
"Stop making noise."
I couldn't answer.
My fingers clawed at the wrist around my neck while my feet searched uselessly for the floor. The hallway seemed to tilt, the familiar drawings beside me becoming nothing more than blurred patches of colour.
Then I heard the dining hall again, children laughing, someone calling my name.
Nobody came.
The hand released me without warning. I dropped to the floor, coughing as i pressed both hands against my throat. When I looked up, the corridor was empty.
The laughter had stopped.
The dining hall was gone.
So were the drawings.
The walls had darkened, and the little girl standing at the end of the corridor was staring directly at me.
I knew that girl.
I knew the face.
I knew the yellow dress.
I knew the tears running down those small cheeks.
It was me.
The little girl opened her mouth.
"Jennie."
She shook her head.
The girl took one step forward.
"Jennie, don't let him…"
The rest of the words disappeared beneath a sudden scream.
There was a flash of metal.
I froze.
"Please….Nooo"
The footsteps stopped behind me.
A voice spoke softly beside my ear.
"You always cry."
I went still.
The hand caught my hair again.
I screamed.
"NO!!!"
Jennie jerked awake.
I sat upright so quickly that the room spun around me. My hand flew to my sides, my fingers pressing against the tender skin as I stared at the unfamiliar ceiling.
For several seconds, I did not move.
Then a familiar voice reached me.
"Jennie?"
Miss Lily was already beside the bed.She had been sitting in the chair near the window, but my scream had sent her rushing across the room. The doctor was there a moment later, reaching for his bag and checking my vitals.
"Easy," he said. "Don't try to get up."
I looked from him to Miss Lily, her gaze finally settling on the woman holding my hand.
"Miss Lily?"
"I'm here child."
I swallowed.
Her eyes moved around the room once more before returning to Lily.
"Where am I?"
"You're in young master room."
I stared at her.
"The hotel?"
"You've been unconscious for a couple hours."
I looked down at the sheets gathered around my waist.
For a while, neither woman spoke.Lily reached for her hand slowly again ,Jennie stared at it before allowing her fingers to slip into Lily's palm.The doctor checked me and then examined my wounds.
"Can you tell me what day it is?"
I frowned.
I tried to think.
"23rd of august ."
"And what happened to you?"
I hesitates.
"I fell"
"That's all right."
He stepped back.
"Do you know who you are?"
My brows drew together.
"Jennie."
"Good."
The doctor glanced at Lily.
"She's oriented enough. Give her a moment to rest."
Lily sat beside me.
"You scared me."
I looked at her.
"I'm sorry."
"You don't have to apologize."
Jennie lowered her eyes.
Her fingers remained around Lily's hand.
For a while, she said nothing.
Then Jennie whispered, "I had a strange dream "
Miss Lily brushed a loose braid away from her face.
"What did you dream about?"
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came.
I remembered the orphanage.
The hallway.
A hand in my hair.
A voice.
My blood dripping down.
More and more memories from a life I no longer exist in.
"I don't remember."
The doctor exchanged a brief glance with Miss Lily.
"That's all right," he said. "You don't have to force yourself to remember anything."
I nodded faintly.
My eyes drifted toward the door. I suddenly wished it were locked.
I did not know that somewhere inside the forgotten corners of my childhood, a door I had spent years keeping closed had just been pushed wide open.