The old orphanage should've had a charm about it given the date of the building. But character and charm weren't the same thing. Someone could have a heap of character and be a straight asshole. No charm. Not even a drop. That was this place. The building represented the collective of its history. And if walls could talk, it would've cussed the devil out of a job.

"Now shut the fuck up and go to sleep. Don't wake the others."

Sally sobbed as she entered the room. Her efforts at keeping quiet only came from the light steps of her tip toeing. Louis heard her sniffling even after she had pulled the covers over her head. As the others slept or ignored it, he couldn't help himself.

"Hey, Sally." Louis said in a soft voice as he finally made his way past two others and to her bed.

The room was one of many in the multi-story rectangular building. Each one had a number of sleeping stations. That's what the kids called them as they refrained from naming them anything homely, like beds. Anything to remind them this was only an in-between stop on their journey.

Just one dot on the map. And a hopeful short stint, like passing a town and even more hopefully passing a rest stop. But hopes went here to die. That's another thing some said. Some even called the place hope cemetary, amongst other not so kind things. But not Louis.

"Sally." He said as he sat down beside where her head lay. He could here her sucking in some snot as he noticed her wipe her face on her pillow. She had been laying face down, crying into the generic blue cased head comforter. After a moment of gathering herself she pulled back the covers and rolled over.

Louis poked his tongue out. He kept it out, with a scrunched up face until she looked at him. He knew she knew what he was doing, even if her eyes were focused on her hands resting on her abdomen over the blanket cover, fiddling with a bit of its material.

He knew she knew. He tried exaggerating his facial expression, tilting his head side to side as he bulged his eyes out and raised and lowered his eyebrows. Then she poked hers back at him and gave him a quick look before turning her head away completely. But that's all he needed.

A simple gesture so he knew she was okay. No-one was ever really okay in this place. Most tried keeping some sort of sanity. And some just didn't care to even try. But no matter what, everyone was in pain. Physical. Emotional. Mental. Even spiritual, if you could dig that deep. Sally's was of a physical nature, and no doubt it weighed on her emotionally and mentally.

She had been diagnosed with cerebal palsy, as a lot had been. And given the nature of the muscular disease, they'd become too much for their parents to care to handle. As a lot had also been. And like clockwork, they were all subjected to various experiments to try cure the sickness. But that was just those with physical disorders.

There were many others with mental disorders too. The orphanage existed as simply a funnel for science. Guinea pigs. Just minds and bodies for prodding and disecting. But who cared? And that's what the various doctors, psychiatrists and carers reminded them as they fed and housed them. Lots of charm, this place. And Sally had just returned from one of their care sessions.

Louis nudged his way next to her, joining her on the bed. Most of the right half of his torso hovered over the side as he lay down on his back. His right leg was straightened out due to a knee brace, but it gave him enough support to keep him propped up. She edged over to the left to give him a little more space.

Both were looking at the ceiling. Both let out a sigh. Sally because she was sick of the continuous tests. And Louis because he felt relieved he wasn't going to fall off of the sleep station. He turned his head toward her. He knew she wouldn't look back. She always did her best to avoid eye contact after she'd been crying. But he felt the need to have his eyes on her.

"Don't even." She warned after another somber exhale.

"Don't even what." He lightly rebuffed, still looking at the right side of her face. He watched her blink, or roll her eyes, before she turned her head to look at him.

"You know what."

"What do I know." He quickly replied before pulling a face.

"See." She replied, with a definite eye roll this time. She turned her head away again and looked back at the ceiling. "You can't fix everything. You can't fix me. You can't even fix yourself. No-one can. We're fucked. We always have been. We always will be."

Sally rolled over onto her left best she could. Louis sighed as he glanced over at her, getting nothing more than the sight of her shoulder length brunette hair. He noticed a red mark on her neck where a needle had been jabbed. She was fighting them again. That was the mark of someone who hadn't been co-operative.

He kept his thoughts bottled up. And his emotions. He wanted to tell her she didn't need fixing. He wanted to tell her she was perfect as she was. He at least gave something of his truth.

"We don't need fixing."

Louis left Sally to herself and made his way back to his own non walled prison cell. His single bed. He was alone again. But he was content Sally was no longer crying. His heart felt for her. In more ways than even he knew. But he was still a teenager. And apparently broken. But he knew at least he wanted her to be happy.

He envisioned it every night as he drifted off to sleep. Them escaping. Tonight was no different. In the place where hopes came to die, Louis was keeping a candle lit. And the flame was growing more and more.