Garil

Billy Bowen was always known as the runt of the litter. He was smaller and weaker than the rest of the boys in the orphanage and this is why he was constantly singled out.

He would try to fight back but every time to no avail, his countless bruises were testimony to that. Tears and pleas were also of no use; they would just laugh and carry on.

The night he met Garil for the first time, Billy was awoken by the cold, dampness of the sheets beneath him. As the other boys slept soundly in the large dormitory, Billy, as he had done so many other nights pulled the stained bed clothes from the mattress and tip toed his way to the laundry room.

Outside in the hallway with its high ceilings and cold marble floors, the old building creaked and groaned. Billy was always afraid of these sounds when he made this regular night time flit but was more afraid of being seen by one of the priests that may be patrolling the corridors.

On this night though Billy met no one and made it safely to the laundry room to dispose of the urine covered evidence. He hid the sheets and his wet pyjama legs in the cart under the rest of the dirty linen before finding clean pants on a nearby shelf.

Pulling up the pants he almost fainted as he heard a rustle from outside in the hallway. As the sound got a little louder Billy crept down behind the behind the cart and hid. The noise was right outside the door, as Billy thought he would soil himself for the second time that night.

“I know you are there Billy”, a hushed voice croaked, “you can come out I won’t hurt you.”

With his heart pounding in his little frame and his small hands shaking, Billy slowly lifted his head above the pile of linen.

Standing in the shadows by the entrance to the room, Billy could see a tall, thin figure that just seemed to be floating above the floor, but rather than panic or scream out he felt his fear began to subside and for the first time since he had been sent to the orphanage, a warm almost comforting feeling encompassed the boy.

“Who…who are you and how do you know my name”, Billy asked.

“I am Garil”, the figure replied with what sounded like two voices speaking at the same time, “I want to help you Billy, it was your pain that brought me here.”

“Help me with what”, the boy questioned.

“I can make your pain stop Billy, all you have to do is say you want me to and all those who hurt you will be punished. Do you want this, tell me you want this Billy.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about, no one is hurting me I swear”, he protested.

“There is no need to lie to me Billy I can see everything they do to you, I can see how they hurt you. Don’t you want this to stop.”

The boy looked down at the floor, ashamed of his lies. “Yes I want you to help me, I want you to make it stop”, he muttered sheepishly.

“Then it is done, I will see you again soon Billy.”

The figure was gone when he looked up again and the boy was alone in the dark of the laundry room. He looked around but the figure was nowhere to be seen. The warm comforting feeling quickly evaporated, replaced again with the fear of being found outside of the dorm.

Glancing up and down from behind the doorway, Billy made his way back to where he slept as soon as he saw nobody was out on the corridor.

Back at his bed he quietly flipped the mattress, glad his little accident had not seeped through to the other side. He ran his hand over just to make sure and got into bed wrapped with the new blanket he had taken from the laundry.

He lay there for some time thinking about what had happened, doubt now beginning to creep in as part of him tried to blame his imagination on what he had seen. Garil, Garil, he repeated the name in his head before drifting into slumber.

The shrill calling of the breakfast bell woke the boys the next morning. None of them seemed to notice Billy’s accident from the night before as hunger surpassed anything else. As they filed out of the dorm for some much needed sustenance, Billy sat on his bed letting them go. He stood up and went to the large bay window, staring out into the infancy of the morning. Playing the scene over and over in his head, he was convinced that he had dreamt the whole thing.

His belly rumbled as he set off for breakfast. Passing down through the corridor past the laundry room, he glanced briefly into it but saw nothing so continued down the stairs into the buildings mess hall for whatever the priests were serving that morning.

After he finished the lumpy cold porridge, Billy and the rest of the boys began their morning chores. He was assigned to toilet cleaning duties with Grant, a piggish ginger haired boy, whom he disliked immensely.

“You can clean the shitty toilets Bowen”, Grant ordered, slapping Billy hard on the back of the head as they entered the first of the bathrooms.

“Yes okay”, Billy replied despondently. He just wanted to get through his chores without further intimidation from the ginger haired boy.

What neither of them had seen that morning as they entered the bathrooms, was the tall thin figure hidden in the shadows watching them because from now he would always be watching them.