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The Masterpiece Beneath

By Lisa Buffaloe

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Defying darkness, moonlight slithered through frost-lined windows. Nika Selinsky waited and listened. Hoping no one watched, she slipped out of her cover; knelt on the cold, hard floor; and lifted the bottom leg of her bed. Reaching inside the hollow, black-metal tubing, she removed her treasures, the used papers and pencils she’d taken from the schoolroom’s trash bin.

In the quiet, she sketched distant memories from before her time in the orphanage—before her parents and younger brother died in the horrible car crash. Shivering, she closed her eyes and tried to tamp down the memory of the wreck, the explosion, the screams reverberating in her mind. She rubbed at the scar at the back of her head, the one no one could see because of her long hair. Yet, she would never forget.

Three years ago, the policeman had brought her here. Even now, she shuddered at the evil she’d seen in the heavyset man’s dark-brown eyes. Why had her uncle not come for her? Why had she been abandoned?

A cry came from the next bed as her friend, Denitsa, caught in another nightmare, her dark hair slick with sweat writhed in her sleep.

Nika rushed to hide her papers and supplies, then touched her friend’s arm, and kept her voice quiet. “Wake, it is only a dream.”

Denitsa’s eyes flew open. “Do not let them take me.” Her voice whisper-strained in horror. “They will come, Nika.” She gasped and clutched Nika’s hand. “They will come.”

“No. I will not let them take you.”

Denitsa moaned and closed her eyes. “You will not be able to stop what will happen.”

“No.” Nika shook her head. “We will find a way.” Yet, the horrible truth remained, Denitsa would be sixteen next month. The truck would soon come. No one knew where the girls were taken, only that they were never heard from again.
Footsteps sounded outside in the corridor. Nika and Denitsa scrambled under their covers. Keys jangled, the lock unlatched, and the door opened. Dim light from the hallway flickered across the dark floor.

A flashlight beam crossed each bed, pausing on Nika’s face. Holding her breath, she forced her expression to remain calm and relaxed.

The door closed and muted voices of a man and woman came from the hallway as footsteps retreated.

Nika reached for her friend and squeezed her fingers. “Someday, we will escape.”
Denitsa’s tearful gaze met hers, then with a muffled cry, she rolled over to face the wall.

Staring at the dark ceiling, Nika willed herself to be brave. Her poppa always told her she must be strong, that fear was only an emotion to be ignored, and crying a sign of weakness.

She had to find a way to escape, but every door in the orphanage stayed locked. The outside yard was surrounded by a brick wall with broken glass embedded on the top.

The only exit remained bolted except for deliveries and an occasional visitor.
Nika shuddered at the memory of the girl who had tried to escape. After she was captured, whatever they had done to her kept her from speaking for weeks. Her first response was only a scream. After that, the girl was taken away and never returned.

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