Geoffrey clenches the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. This was the worst day of the month for him. His van smells of freshly pressed linen, lavender and old cigarette smoke. It is the last comfort, before he enters the Orphanage. Staring through the tinted windscreen, the black stone building looms above him, dark and sinister.

Swallowing hard, he releases his death grip on the wheel and with shaking hands opens the car door. It feels like he’s dragging his body through water with lead weights tied to his limbs as he makes his way to the back of the van. Past memories of other linen days haunt him, screaming at him to run away. But he knows he has to do it- for the children.

Hoisting the cotton bag full of clean sheets over his shoulder, Geoffrey closes the door and locks the van. Taking one last breath of clean city air, he crosses the street to where the Orphanage’s fences slice through the land, exiling it from the rest of the world. The iron bars curved upwards ending with lethal tips shaped like thorns. Geoffrey knew though that the gates weren’t there to keep the children in- they were there to keep people out.

Rubbing his fingers together in trepidation, Geoffrey reaches forward and presses the call button on the speaker box. Static screeches out from the loudspeaker before a spine tingling voice whispers, “Who’s there?”

“G-Geoffrey,” he stutters as the cold hand of fear grips his heart.

“Well come in then, G-Geoffrey,” the woman replies and Geoffrey can almost see the malicious smile that will be spreading across her face from outside.

The iron gates creak open, cutting fresh grooves into the dry, lifeless soil. Following the gravel path to the giant oak doors, Geoffrey glances at the decaying plants that decorate the walkway. Everything within these fences is doomed to die, he thinks. Except the Watchers; they thrive on the misery and evil that inhabits this place.

It’s as if he’s witnessing the scene from above as he watches his hand knock on the door. The sharp click of stilettos on stone reaches his ears before the wooden door is pulled open. Veda stands before him, her ochre brown eyes as quick and hawk like as ever. Her arsenic grey hair is pulled sharply back into a twisted bun, held by two small but deadly knives. The smooth skin on her face seems to glisten in the misty light as she smiles at him.   

“Welcome back, I’ve missed you.” He imagines blood dripping off Veda’s pointed teeth as her grin widens, crimson gums gleaming with saliva.

She steps aside allowing him to pass into the Orphanage. Damp, musky air clogs his nose as he’s swallowed into the dimness. Sickly yellow halogen lights hang above his head, some flickering on the last threads of life. Veda wraps a wintry hand around his arm pulling him further into the Orphanage.

“It’s unfortunate the children only need clean linen once a month. We enjoy your visits so much,” she breathes into Geoffrey’s ear sending chills down his spine.

“Fresh meat,” he thinks he hears her whisper but she’s talking again before he can be sure. “You know where the bedrooms are, be quick- the children have their chores to do.” Like a shadow Veda vanishes down the hall leaving Geoffrey standing at the bottom of the grand staircase.

Forcing the bile that threatens to escape back down his throat, Geoffrey climbs the staircase, taking the steps two at a time. He’s breathing hard when he reaches the sleeping quarters, unable to get enough clean oxygen into his lungs.  Not a soul crosses his path, making the hairs on the back of his neck quiver. Usually he sees some of the starved, skeletal children that drift along like ghosts as he walks through the halls. But today, the Orphanage is as silent as a graveyard.

Stepping lightly he enters the large space that makes the communal bedroom. Thin, ruined mattresses are strewn across the floor, some pushed together so the children wouldn't be alone as the slept. If they could ever sleep in this hellhole. Hurriedly Geoffrey strips the mattresses of their filthy sheets and replaces them with the fresh ones in his bag.

Once the final bed is done he heads back towards the door. Geoffrey’s hand is on the doorknob when he hears it. The noise is so quiet and it disappears so quickly he’s sure he’s imagined it as he scans the room quickly; then he spots her. A rail thin girl, about sixteen years old huddles in the corner, her body shaking as she silently sobs.

Her muddy brown hair is clumped in places, filthy and malnourished like her body. The skin around her right eye is deep purple, yellowing around the edges. Her lips are cracked and bleeding staining her already soiled clothes. Her vivid blue eyes are what pierce Geoffrey’s heart though. So filled with pain and hurt, and longing; longing to be free of this place.

“Are you okay?” Geoffrey whispers hardly making a sound in the stagnant air.

Her eyes widen with shock, immediately darting behind him in case someone else heard. Rapidly she shakes her head, the tiny movement showing her fear. Pulling her legs in closer to her body as if she could become part of the wall itself she burries her head in her lap, hiding her bruised and bloodied face from him.  

Realising the terror and panic he’s just caused this young lady, Geoffrey scurries out of the room and flees downstairs. He’s almost safe as he reaches to open the front door when a pale arm slams the half open door shut.

“Going so soon?” Veda asks her ochre eyes flashing dangerously.

“I h-have another c-call to d-do,” Geoffrey mumbles to his feet, scared witless of what she might do to him or the girl if Veda knew he spoke to her.  

“W-well, I better let you g-go then,” she sneers mockingly, opening the door for him.

Stumbling out the door Geoffrey’s at the iron gates when her icy voice calls down to him.

“Oh and Geoffrey, never speak to my children again.”

The oak doors slam shut, causing a small dust storm as her words echo in Geoffrey’s ears. Only when he is safely back in his van, all the doors locked, does he look back at the Orphanage. Dread fills his body as images flash through his mind of what Veda will do to that girl. This time he cannot stop the bile as it floods his mouth; he just manages to lean over onto the passenger seat before the vomit comes spewing out.

Leaning back in his seat once his stomach has completely emptied itself, Geoffrey wipes the sick off his lips. He wants to do something; anything to help those children. But what can he do? He was just the linen guy. Slowly his eyes open as an idea starts to form in his mind. Twisting the key, the engine coughs into life as Geoffrey gazes at the Orphanage for the last time this month.

Next visit, he will return. And it will be his last; for he plans on taking the kids with him.