To the casual viewer on Mary’s home life, one couldn’t
tell the probable abuse charges that could be leveled against Mary’s parents.
One wouldn’t want to see and hear the other atrocities the two had committed,
which they would have claimed to be helping their daughter prepare for a bright
future, away from not only alcohol, but also drugs, sex, gambling and various
other vices of human nature. The casual viewer, though, would have been aware
of the obvious symptoms of abuse, which were displayed by Mary at an early age.
Of course, none of this could ever happen, because nobody would ever get close
to the paranoid couple and their daughter to casually view them. Even if
somebody had the idea, nobody wanted to try.
So Mary was raised with these beliefs in mind, and when
her parents were killed by, of all things, a drunk driver, she was placed in an
orphanage, as she had no other family to be found. “Scary” Mary, as she was
called by the other children, wouldn’t speak, wouldn’t eat, and would barely
sleep. Her parents had frightened her away with such notions, and it had worked.
Mary would be terrified of everything a human girl was supposed to do. Of
course, this meant that nobody would adopt her, and Mary stayed in the
orphanage for a time, not welcome by her peers or superiors.
***
At
twelve, Mary’s third year in the orphanage, she was approached by a disturbed
boy named Leroy Bright. Bright, after it was discovered he was abusing his
younger siblings and cousins, was abandoned at the orphanage, where he
continued his predatory ways. He took a liking to the mysterious girl named
Mary. He was known by the older kids to be not picky with his “close friends”,
especially those who were female, and warned the younger ones to stay away from
him. When he got you alone, the older kids claimed, he would not be as nice as
he appeared. The nuns had tried to get the police involved, but Leroy found a
way of convincing them he wasn’t who they thought he was. Thus, the abuse would
continue. He had even been linked to the rape of an adult woman on his
sixteenth birthday, but the police had again never found a way to catch him, as
DNA was not as prevalent then as now. For Leroy, Mary was the prize that
seemingly couldn’t be won.
Leroy approached Mary the same way he approached all of
his victims: with curiosity. He studied her, tried talking to her, but with no
avail. He would ask about the strange tendencies “Scary” Mary had, and then try
to exploit them. Again, Leroy was met with failure. This only intensified
Leroy’s obsession with Mary, the forbidden fruit. He was determined to see what
made her so special. Why she wouldn’t talk, yet still have a voice through the
stories told about her. Why she wouldn’t eat, yet never become malnourished.
Why she wouldn’t sleep, yet would never appear to have any exhaustion. Though
Leroy Bright never would live up to his last name, he certainly was willing to
try.
Mary was never affected by this sudden intrusion into her
otherwise lonely life. She continued her odd behavior, never interacting with
Leroy, which made even her most verbal opposition impressed. She, the girl who
had no friends, thus no support, thus no help, was beating Leroy Bright. How
could it be so? New rumors began to surface about Mary. That she wasn’t a
demon, but an angel. That she wasn’t a terrifying alien waiting to steal their
brains, but a robot, programmed for good and protection. Mary, as usual, took
no notice of her enemies turned friends. Without saying a word, Mary’s status
in the orphanage changed.
One cold December night, near Christmas, Bright decided
to end his quest, once and for all. He had tried his usual methods, but they
hadn’t worked like he hoped they would. He would have to move on to Plan B.
Over the years, Leroy had encountered somewhat similar situations, and had
resorted to his Plan B in the past. It had, unlike Plan A, a 100% success rate.
Leroy’s plan would be simple, as it always had. When the nuns would take the
younger children caroling for Christmas, he would strike. He would take Mary
from her room, which no nuns would ever go near. He would take her someplace
unseen, and then he would finally complete his nearly year-long quest. He would
slay the dragon, he would eat the forbidden fruit, and he would win the prize.
Leroy put his plan into action the following evening,
when the carolers left. He snuck out of his room, crept down the stairs on to
the second floor, where the 12-15 year olds had rooms. Leroy made sure he
hadn’t been followed, and slyly went to Mary’s door. He paused for a brief
moment, and thought in his head how foolish he had been to not use Plan B
earlier, and how clever he was for using it now. He turned the doorknob to her
room, and snuck inside.
As he entered, Leroy found it was dark, as it usually was
during Plan B. As he shut the door behind him, however, something odd happened.
The lamp, which was the same in every orphan’s identical room, suddenly turned
on.
There, on her bed where he had expected her, sat Mary, in
a flower-print nightgown with a single butterfly on the chest. But around her,
fourteen orphans, aged 12-18, stood. This meant, Leroy discovered slowly (he
was never good at math) that every orphan that hadn’t gone caroling stood
around his prize. As if, he had decided, they were guarding her from him.
Leroy Bright, again never the smartest, tried threatening
the others, who at least two were of his past victims. This had, however, no
effect on them. When Bright tried his most common response, physical contact,
next, and it proved to be his undoing. He rushed at Mary, but suddenly fell to
the ground. He discovered that he had been grabbed around the ankles by the
other orphans. Two others grabbed his arms, and soon, he was held to the
ground. One by one, the fourteen kids attached themselves to him. They held his
hair, his torso, everything. When he thought they were finished, the tinier
ones began grabbing his nose, his ears, and his lips.
Bright tried screaming, but his screams, equivalent to
his victims, fell on deaf ears by the nuns. They were busy making cookies and
watching old movies and knitting sweaters. Leroy Bright found himself being
torn apart by the children, limb by limb. It would be the worst and last pain
he would ever have in his life. He never saw Mary’s face during the entire
incident, though if he had, he wouldn’t have been surprised by its expression:
one of neutrality. The children put Bright’s remains in a box found in one of
their closets, wrapped it in gingerbread men wrapping paper, and put a stamp on
it.
The stamp read: “DO NOT OPEN UNTIL XMAS” in little red
writing.
It was placed under the Christmas tree in the orphanage’s
small living room. The nuns were none the wiser. The mess of blood in Mary’s
room was covered with a rug. The kids found that they were willing to do
anything for the girl who never spoke. They told Mary that come Christmas morning,
the nuns would discover the gift who couldn’t keep on giving (because he was
dead), and would immediately accuse Mary. They told her to leave the orphanage,
which Mary did, slowly and silently.
Mary walked out of the orphanage’s back door, which led out
directly into the woods. The other kids decided that if anyone would protect
Mary, Mother Nature could. So Mary left, disappearing into the dark, snowy
woods, accompanied only by her raggedy wool coat, two peanut butter sandwiches
(which the others figured she would never eat) and a bottle of water (which the
others figured she would never drink).
The kids never saw their idol again.
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