The emotion Kris now knew was empathy gripped his chest as Lillian answered him. She was a frequent victim, not just of this assault, whether it was accidental or meditated, but also of teasing, and that was intentional no matter how one looked at it. He'd been there. He shivered as unwanted images of his bullies surfaced in his mind. "Scaredy-cat" and "shrimp" had been a couple of their favorite insults. He could still hear their cruel laughing tone ringing in his head. It took him a few seconds to force the memories away and return to the matter at hand. "Of course," he said. "I'll be right back."
A look around the room showed him where the stairwell was fairly quickly, so he sidled through the assorted children in the room and headed upstairs. When he reached the upstairs hallway, he was much less sure of where to go, but after systematically testing several doors he eventually found the one that led to the bathroom. Aside from two buckets that served as toilets, there was a larger wooden tub as well as a counter near a wall-mounted mirror, and on the corner of this counter was a small wooden box that contained strips of clean cloth and a few glass vials of herb extracts and the like. Assuming this was the first aid kit, he picked it up and began to head back downstairs. While it had two long holes cut into the wood of the short sides that were clearly meant to be handles, he could also hold it with one arm if he balanced the bottom of the box on his forearm and hand just right, and this was what he found himself doing as he walked, because it left his free hand to poke curiously through the vials. He had a feeling Faelwen knew what all of these were and exactly how to use them, but Kris was completely clueless. While they were labeled, the writing was very small, and even if it had been more legible, reading had never been Kris' strong point, particularly when most of the terms here were ones he didn't know. He took one small vial in his hand and eyed it curiously; it seemed to contain a fluid that was mostly clear but had a slight green hue to it. That didn't tell him much.
"Garrett! You give that back!"
"Ha! You'll have to come get—"
It all happened very fast. The box in the lower third of Kris' vision combined with the fact that he hadn't been paying attention to where he was going meant that he didn't see the child in front of him until he felt his legs hit something warm and alive. Two yelps of surprise were heard, one from the child underfoot and one from Kris himself, and in less than a second, the ground rushed forward to meet him. He caught himself with his arms, but the basket slid away and tipped over, and the vial Kris had been inspecting flew for half a second before hitting the hardwood floor with a shrill crash. Shards of glass scattered across the floor, leaving a strong scent of tea tree oil.
"I don' see any empty jars. Are y'sure they were here?"
"I'm positive they were! If Tris has gotten into the cabinets again, I'll..."
"Ugh, that child. I can' help bu' worry we'll ne'er be rid o' him..."
But eight-year-old Tris was long gone. He leaned against a wall in a hallway across the orphanage, four near-empty glass jars clutched to his chest. Here. Here was where he would have his revenge for last Thursday. He left one end of the hall and scouted the doorway behind him one last time before he raised each jar, one at a time, and smashed it on the hard ground as hard as he could. When he was done, the entryway to the hall was littered with shards of broken glass. Satisfied with his work, he moseyed back towards the play room.
"Wha' was that?"
"I bet Kris broke some'n again."
"Ha. Stupid little scaredy Kris an' his tantrums. He cries like a little girl."
He could hear them as he approached, but he wouldn't let them get to him this time. He shuffled into the room as if feeling gloomy, faked tears springing to his eyes.
"Oy, there he is!"
"Kris! What did you do?"
His head snapped up as if in fright, and after a moment of pretending to be ashamed, he turned and fled the scene, heading back the way he came. A couple of yells behind him confirmed that at least those closest three of the other children were following him. His face twisted in determination now. He had them. Right...here.
He made a sharp turn into the hallway, but the very moment he did, he called forth his will and blinked forward, landing several feet past the doorway where it was safe. He turned when he heard the unmistakeable cries of pain, excruciating pain. Of course they were barefoot. Everyone was always barefoot around here.
He surveyed the scene, and he laughed.
...
Kris blinked, suddenly realizing he'd been staring dumbfoundedly at that broken vial for a few seconds now. Something balked inside him, and his eyes snapped open wide. "I'm sorry!" he cried as he pushed himself to his hands and knees and scooted forward. "Oh, beg pardon, I'm sorry, I am so sorry." He hurried to scoop the shards of glass into a small pile and start picking them up, placing them in one hand with care. "Everyone stay back. Do not touch the broken glass. I don't want anyone stepping on it, all right?"
