Work Text:
Dear Emma,
I hope you’re alright. We’ve been doing well since we got to the new orphanage. It really isn’t much different from our old home. The rooms all look the same. The food, the toys, and the tests are all the same. Some of the books aren’t the same. But everything else is.
Except you’re not here.
But my new brothers and sisters are nice. I hope we’ll get along.
Dear Emma,
Have you found new people?
I’m getting along well with our new family. They welcomed us all with a smile and it almost feels like being back at our old home. They’re all really nice. I hope you get the chance to meet them.
Take good care of yourself and everyone else. I’ll do the same here.
Dear Emma,
I've been improving my test scores. Our new mama said it would take some time to get used to our new home, so we didn’t have to take our tests just yet. We had more time to play, but I tried to make everyone study so their scores wouldn’t drop once we had to take our tests once more.
Sheryl agreed right away. Some didn’t want to do it, but I managed to convince most. A few of the older kids agreed to teach us. Like this we’ll be able to keep our scores up, so you don’t have to worry.
Dear Emma,
Are you safe?
I know you can take care of yourself, but I sometimes worry about the outside. I don’t know what it’s like. I’ve only read some books about it, but if they all lie, then I can’t know how you’re doing.
I want to believe you’re alright, that you all are, but I still don’t know if you really are, and even when I tell myself you all are safe, there’s a part of me that says that maybe you’re not. That maybe you got hurt, or something worse happened.
I don’t know how to reply.
Dear Emma,
Carol can walk now. She has to take my hand, but she’s doing better each day. I want to teach her to read soon. I’m sure she’s going to be smart once she grows up.
She’ll score so high, you will be able to see how much she’ll grow.
I’ll make sure of that.
Dear Emma,
We started taking tests again. I’m scoring really well. Everyone is. Our new mama is proud of all of us, and she always has a smile on her face. It reminds me of our old mama.
I wonder if she was happy because we scored well, or because our scores were high. I want to believe she cared.
Maybe this new mama also cares about us. But if so, why keep us here?
Dear Emma,
Would it be bad if I told someone else?
When we first got to our new home, I talked with Carol. I told her how I felt. I stopped when she started to speak more. I don’t want her to repeat what I said.
I know it’s better if they don’t know, at least not yet, but maybe if I told someone else, I’d have someone to talk about this. Someone who could answer me. Maybe then the bad days wouldn’t be so bad.
But it hurts knowing, and I don’t want them to hurt. When they smile, they mean it. When they say goodbye to one of our brothers and sisters, they hope to see them again. If I tell them, they won’t think that anymore. I don’t want them to.
Is that why you didn’t tell me until the end?
Because you didn’t want me to hurt?
If so, then I probably shouldn’t tell anyone else.
It’s just too much. I feel so alone. I’m the only one who knows. I try to smile every day for everyone else, for my brothers and sisters, but it’s harder lately.
I’ll do my best, though.
I don’t want anyone else to hurt.
Dear Emma,
One of our siblings was shipped today.
I had to watch my words, I almost slipped a few times.
I wanted to tell him the truth, tell him to run away, that there was nothing good waiting for him out there.
I wanted him to live.
I’ve only known him for a few months, but I didn’t want him to be gone. Then I thought about all the siblings we lost back at our own home, and all the kids who will be shipped before we can leave this house.
I think they all thought I was just crying because I was sad he was leaving.
Dear Emma,
We had meat for lunch.
I couldn’t eat.
Dear Emma,
Ray knew, didn’t he? About our siblings being shipped of to be eaten. He knew since he was smaller than me.
I sometimes think about how he must have felt. Every time someone was shipped, he couldn’t say anything. He had to stay quiet. He had to watch them all go. He had to pretend not to know just like nobody else knew.
Just like nobody here knows.
He had to see them all get harvested. One after one. And he couldn’t say goodbye. Not like he wanted to. Not like I want to. Because I know it really is a goodbye. Because I’m never seeing them again. Because once they leave they’ll be gone for good, and all I can do is keep our scores high and wait for you to come back.
How did he do it? How did put up with knowing for so many years?
I wish I could’ve asked him back then.
Dear Emma,
Today I asked our new mama about our siblings in the other orphanages. I almost said farm.
She said everyone was probably doing fine. They would all do their best to move on and maybe we’d get to meet in the outside world once we were adopted.
She was smiling when she said that.
She knows and she still smiles, but I know she doesn’t really mean it. I know because I see the same smile in the mirror every morning.
I wonder if she’s trying to convince herself, too.
Dear Emma,
I wish I could write you these letters.
Maybe writing them would help, but I can’t risk the other kids finding them. I can’t tell anyone else the truth, they mustn’t know, they have to be happy while they can.
And if mama found them, she would ship me.
So I can’t write down these letters.
I can only write them in my mind, every night while I’m in bed.
I hope you are alright.
I hope everyone is.
I hope I will be.
Dear Emma,
Another kid was shipped today.