***Time passed as we silently observed the village, until I broke the moment with a question that felt like throwing a stone into still water. I paused, then whispered quietly:
– Do you know Madame Magda well?
His gaze drifted toward the horizon, as if searching for a lost answer there.
– I've known her for a long time… I came to the orphanage with Zuzanna when I was five.
I tilted my head slightly and said:
– So, would you say you're close to her? I don't think so, right?
Szymon replied hesitantly:
– Umm… Actually, she used to be better…
Then he suddenly went silent.
I repeated the question, with a hint of sharpness in my tone:
– What does it mean to keep a photo of a child?
He slowly turned toward me, his brow furrowed, and said impatiently:
– Don't be silly! She can barely stand seeing us, so why would she keep a photo of us?
I smiled faintly, as if hinting at something deeper:
– Maybe because you're not special… Right?
His eyes locked onto mine, surprise all over his face.
– What do you mean?
I pulled out the photo and held it up in front of him.
– Sorry, but I searched her desk drawer. There were some papers, a letter, and a few photos—but all of them were of that boy… the special child.
His expression changed instantly, as if the word had struck a nerve. He took the photo from my hand, stared at it for a long moment, then whispered in a broken voice:
– Jan…
I didn't need to ask him; it was clear he knew him. Before I could say anything, he broke down crying.
His hands trembled, his eyes widened, as if a ghost had emerged from his past. His voice grew louder, as if years of buried pain were finally erupting.
– Hold yourself together, Szymon! – I said, trying to calm him, but he didn't hear me.
He clutched the photo to his chest, as if it were all that remained of a vanished world. He curled up, buried his head between his knees, and began to shake.
It wasn't the first time I'd seen him scared… but this time, the sorrow was deeper, raw, unbearable.
I waited patiently until he calmed down, then whispered:
– That's enough… Tell me, what happened?
He didn't lift his head. Instead, he bent down further, pressed his forehead to the ground, and said in a choked voice:
– I'm sorry, Jan… I couldn't save you.
A heavy silence fell, filled with words yet to be spoken. Szymon remained as he was, as if trying to escape a memory that refused to die. I watched him quietly before saying:
– We're not responsible for everything… not even our own existence. So… don't carry all the blame.
He didn't respond. I wanted a clearer explanation of what really happened, but I felt that asking might shatter what little strength he had left.
Then, in a fragile, broken voice, he said:
– I can't keep it in anymore… Then he looked at me with a sad, guilty gaze and said: Will you promise? To keep the secret? Silently?
I met his eyes and nodded slowly:
– I promise.
He exhaled deeply, as if the truth he was about to share would set him free.
– Jan… was my friend. Everyone's friend. He was the oldest among us, five years older than me. He was here before we came. Kind, protective, never left anyone behind.
I listened closely. It was clear Szymon had been trying to imitate him, to follow in his footsteps.
– Everyone thinks he left us by choice. But he didn't. He didn't leave. He was forced… to leave forever.
He paused for a moment, then said in a broken voice:
– He was struck hard on the head… yes, his blood was everywhere. The night was pitch dark, and I was hiding—or rather, he pushed me to hide. I fell into the ditch, but I could still see what happened.
He was dragged, carried away. His hands hung limply from the side of the car. He didn't leave. He was stolen from us.
I couldn't fully grasp how things like this could happen in such a place..,a shiver ran through me, and I waited silently.
Then he added:
– I tried to run after them, I wanted to catch up… but my legs wouldn't move. I couldn't. I was too scared.
– The one who did it… was the man in the orange coat.
My eyes widened, and I remembered his pale face that day. Only now… did I understand.
Szymon continued in a trembling voice:
– I was there… I saw everything… and did nothing. I was scared… if I moved, I'd be next.
He dug his fingers into the dirt, as if trying to hold on to the world before it collapsed.
– I'm the most cowardly person in the world. And that's why… I pretend to be strong.
I hesitated a little, then asked him softly:
– Why didn't you tell anyone?
He sighed bitterly:
– Because I was scared… not just of him. Of everyone. I didn't think anyone would believe me. Who believes a child?
– I was afraid they'd say I was lying, or that it was my fault. Or that the man would come back for me.
I didn't ask him anything else. I understood everything.
We returned to the orphanage with slow, heavy steps. The air was cold, but not colder than the weight we carried inside.
At that moment, I wanted only one thing: to rest my head on a pillow and forget. Psychological crises, shattered desires, unknown roots, and a vague destiny… that was our reality.
And the older we got, the more we realized that one day we might disappear… or erase ourselves.
***The next day, I felt my steps grow heavier and my thoughts more disturbed. Nothing seemed clear anymore. Why had he stayed silent all this time? It wasn't enough, but it also wasn't convincing. Or maybe… maybe he wasn't sure that Jan had died? I felt lost, to the point that I no longer felt eager to hear more from Szymon. I'd be lying if I said he didn't disappoint me.
Around ten in the morning, a truck stopped in front of the building. The driver got out and left a child at the door — one of the four who had been taken last time. Magda hurried inside, locked the restaurant door behind us, then went out to assess the situation. In the meantime, we all gathered at the window, trying to see what was happening. The truck wasn't fully visible, but I stared hard, trying to make out the details. I thought the man sitting inside it was Roch. He stepped out slowly, while the driver remained obscured.
I stepped back slightly, pushed by the other children who were pressing in around me. I turned and saw Zuzanna's worried expression, and soon my eyes began searching the room for Szymon — but he had vanished somehow, just like he did the previous time. I knew then that he had snuck outside.
At that moment, madame Magda called Filip into her office. Szymon approached and knocked on the office window. Filip noticed and opened it.
Filip: "Oh, Szymon, what are you doing here? And how…?"
Szymon: "It's okay, I just came to check on you… Are you alright?"
Filip hesitated, his exhaustion written all over his face, then responded softly:
Filip: "Yeah… I think so."
Elsewhere, Magda's conversation with the two men didn't last long; they left quickly. But Roch didn't get into the truck immediately. He stood still for a moment, as if he had spotted something. Then he looked at us — the children gathered at the window — with disdain and contempt in his eyes. I felt that his gaze lingered on Zuzanna for a moment — it was a different kind of look, as if he was threatening her with something. Then he turned and walked toward the back of the orphanage.
Inside the office, while Szymon was talking to Filip, he suddenly heard two sounds — one from inside and one from outside. He whispered:
"Close the window. Now."
Then moved quickly to hide. He found a narrow gap between the orphanage and the rear wing.
Suddenly, he saw Roch approaching, as if searching the area after hearing the noise Szymon had made. He got closer and closer to where Szymon was hiding. Szymon held his breath, convinced he had been found. But at that moment, the truck's horn blared several times. The driver stuck his head out the window and shouted:
"Come on, Roch! We're late! We have to get back and move the cargo!"
Roch paused, looked around for a moment, then turned and headed back to the truck.
After they left, Szymon returned to the office window, which hadn't been properly closed. He leaned in to listen. Inside, Magda was questioning Filip in a firm tone. He answered:
Filip: "They kept us in the truck for two days… they treated us harshly…"
Magda's expression changed — she didn't want to open the door to doubt, especially after sensing that Filip had begun to suspect something. She decided to break him mentally, as she had done before.
Magda: "You pathetic failure! You should be ashamed of yourself. If you were worth anything, they would've chosen you!"
Filip: "But… they didn't test us on anything. They just asked a few questions, a doctor came to examine us while we were still in the truck, and then…"
Magda cut him off sharply: "Yes, that's their method of evaluation! Your answers must've been stupid! It's over now — you weren't chosen for the training that could've benefited all of us here. You have to forget everything and stay completely silent!"
Filip hesitated, then asked: "But… why does it have to be a secret?"
Magda went silent for a moment, trying to think of a way to subdue him again. Then, in a threatening tone, she said:
"Do you want the other children to start calling you a failure and a weakling?"
Filip quickly lowered his head and whispered: "Of course not…"
He left the office, burdened by disappointment and sorrow. Meanwhile, Szymon had heard everything, his eyes wide with shock. He whispered to himself:
"She's hiding something… something dangerous."
Then he heard Magda muttering angrily:
"Those bastards… They said two children, but they took three! How dare they tell me they changed their minds — that one of them 'caught the interest of one of their clients'?"
Szymon froze in place. His body started trembling, and his eyes filled with terror.
"Clients? Does that mean the children…?"