Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - 3 Orphan Horror Stories

Episode Date: June 28, 2021

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Blood pools out all around me, drenching my clothes and my shaking hands. I dropped the gun, staring blankly at the two dead bodies in front of me. Moments earlier, they were just sitting at the table, eating breakfast and drinking coffee, oblivious to what I had discovered upstairs.

When I came from my room, the small weapon in my hand felt so heavy. I had been uncertain if I could even do this. But now, it freed me. I can finally escape from that. My name is Lucas, and the two people that I just killed claimed to be my mother and my father.

I've been an orphan ever since the age of six. I never knew my real parents and accepted that fate a long time ago. I've been living on the streets, getting by, and taking what I need for the past six years of my life and know that I don't have a real family. That is the reality that I have come to accept But that changed three days ago.

I woke up to a room that had perfectly painted white walls and blue curtains. There was an aquarium sitting on a desk nearby, with small marine life swimming about, and the sound of the tank cleaner humming as I sat up and looked down. I had new clothes on, pajamas to be specific. Can you believe that all of my life I've never actually worn these? Except maybe when I was in an orphanage before I met Raoul. Raul. I look about the room, realizing that he isn't there,

and also suddenly coming to the conclusion that I don't know where I am. I stand up and go toward the door. For some reason, I expect it to be locked, but it isn't. Beyond the room, there is a dark hallway and a staircase that leads down. There are two other doors on the floor, one of which is open. The lights come on automatically as I step in and see that it's a bathroom with a walk-in shower, far nicer than anything I have ever had in a shelter.

The other room is locked, but the downstairs air is fully illuminated. I hear talking. It makes me feel on an edge as I step down to see who else is here with me. The night before is still a blur. I remember getting my meal from the shelter and then finding a cot to sleep on. Then the world turned to black. It feels like I could be dreaming. Downstairs, there is more evidence to suggest that.

Everything reminds me of a picturesque Norman Rockwell painting, like I have taken a step back in time to the 1950s. And then the two people that had been conversing turned to look at me, and I'm immediately unnerved by their perfect appearance. Have you ever heard of the uncanny valley? It's a term that scientists made up to explain how we feel when we see something that looks human, but we know isn't. Our mind is automatically repulsed by the way they look

because they are trying so hard to resemble us. That's what these two people look like. Walking, talking mannequins, with perfect smiles, perfect hair, perfect eyes, and perfect skin complexion. They are the epitome of the American family. The woman smiled at me as she pulled back a chair. Good morning, Lucas. I made you some breakfast, she said.

I stand there, perplexed and a bit scared. How do you know my name? I ask. The man gives me a puzzled look. Lucas, stop playing games and sit down. Your bacon will get cold. I walk up to them and do as I'm told, crunching on the food. I'm surprised at how well it tastes.

It definitely tastes like real bacon. Perhaps the best I have had in a very long time. The man and woman stood back and watched as I ate. It was unnerving. I had to stop and stare back at them. What is this all about? They didn't even blink naturally. It felt forced, like they were

being told to do it. Lucas, there's no need to raise your voice at your mother, the man said. That made my blood boil. That thing isn't my mom, and you aren't my dad, I said standing up and pointing a fork in his face. I expected him to flinch and step back. Instead, the silverware stuck right into his chest and stayed there, prompting me to be the one surprised. What the I paused and took a step closer to him, tugging his shirt down to see the fork, I grabbed in what was supposed to be his chest, except there were wires and circuits there instead. He was a robot. I glanced at the woman who stood alongside him, unfazed, and knew she had to be the same.

It was then that I started to search for a way out of the house. I went to what should have been the front room and pushed the furniture aside, trying to find the door. There wasn't one. Then I also took a moment to catch my breath and look around. No windows either. But there were cameras. I jabbed the other silverware toward the camera in the corner of the room and remarked, whoever is running this shit show can come out now.

Lucas, watch your language, the male robot said, as he took the fork from his body and added, We are here to take care of you. No thanks. I can take care of myself, I snapped back. I ran upstairs to see if I maybe had missed an exit. The only place I hadn't checked was the locked door. As I started to jiggle the handle, the female robot walked up the stairs. Lucas, you know you can't go.

in our room, she scolded me. Don't you dare put a finger on me, I said, fumbling backward. Dear, you look like you need to lay down. Are you sick? she asked. I could almost hear genuine concern in her voice, and I nodded frantically. I think I need to go to my room. I got there and slammed the door, trying to get a hold of myself. This couldn't possibly be real. Androids that resembled humans and a house that had no windows or doors? How did I get here? I sat there on the bed trying to rack my brain, but nothing came up. A few hours passed, and I started to actually get hungry, so I reluctantly went back down to check the fridge.

The two humanoids were just sitting in the den, both watching some static on the television as I checked the fridge. There was a bit of food there, and I grabbed it before joining them on the couch. They remained motionless as I ate and looked at the eerie stillness of the old TV set. It was as if the static was communicating to the same. them. Someone forgot to pay the bill? I joked. Neither of them responded, too focused on the bizarre nothingness of the screen. They sat there for another good 15 minutes before the screen finally cut off. Then the man looked at the clock on the wall. Curfew is six o'clock, Lucas. Best to get

rested up. Busy day tomorrow. Busy day stuck in here? No thanks. I'm out, I commented. Then he grabbed me roughly by the arm and said, you won't be going anywhere until you learn some manners, young man. He started to pull me toward the stairs despite my protests. Let me go. What is going on here? I shouted. Before I had the chance to react, he tossed me to the floor in my bedroom and slammed the door. I tried to open it, but it was securely locked. This is insane. What the fuck do you want for me? I shouted, banging my fists on the door. Lucas, we are your family. All we want is to take care of you. There is no need for you to be hostile toward us, the man said outside my door. What does that even mean?

I'm an orphan. But they didn't answer this time. I tried a few different things to smash the door down, but nothing in my room made much more than a dent. It was a prison. About 10 minutes later, the lights went out, and I heard a strange voice overhead. System offline until 0,700 hours.

That wasn't until morning. I realized as I found my way to the bed and sat there pondering what to do. It was immediately obvious the Androids were stronger and more resilient than I was. And without a way out, it was obvious I would have to cooperate with them. I wasn't quite sure what that meant

until the following morning. Rest was not easy, but I got by and slept on the floor. It was more comfortable than the perfect mattress they were trying to give me. In the morning, I walked to the breakfast table and ate slowly

as the two androids dutifully watched. I decided to start my plan to cozy up to them immediately. It was the only shot I had. I wanted to apologize for acting out last night. You've both been very kind to me, always providing everything I need. I stopped and a bit into the bacon, trying to remember how it was we got new food. Someone must do food drops when I'm locked in my room, I thought.

So, uh, thanks, I said as I finished eating, and the woman took my plate. Lucas, we just want you to be happy here. We will take care of you, and all we ask in return is your love and respect. She went over to the sink and washed the plate as I looked at the man and wondered if I could short-circuit them using the water. That would probably be too easy. Sure, I can definitely do that. But I need one thing first, I said. I watched the man to see if there was a reaction, the question that had been burning in my mind since yesterday.

My friend Raoul, where is he? I asked calmly. Raul didn't qualify for the program, the man said. I nodded slowly as though I understood. Another clue, a program. One I qualified for, but my best friend didn't. Then it hit me as I realized they meant because I was an orphan. I had been selected for some sick experiment because I didn't have a family.

Well, I would be happy to help out around the house. Just tell me when and where, I offered. Could you vacuum our master room? The woman asked. I thought you said it was private. Lucas, we just meant for the evening. If you want to help with chores, you can go anywhere in the house, the man chided me. I rose from the table and went to their room immediately,

trying to not get my hopes up about anything that could help me to escape. It was just about as ordinary as the rest of the house, big, king-sized bed, vanity, walk-in closet. I paused at the closet and examined it closely. Someone on the outside had to be monitoring us from nearby. And if they were smart, they would create a back door to get in at. I pushed and moved shoes and clothes aside until I found it. A false wall. Someone hadn't been so careful after all, I thought, with a smirk.

I slowly prided away and saw on the other side it would look like a weapons cache. There was everything from assault rifles to grenades. I stood there for a long moment, debating what to do when the woman called me downstairs again. Lucas, could you be a deer and help me to set the table? That was when I grabbed the first gun I could get a hold of, and went downstairs to do the deed. When I fired, I wasn't really sure it would make much difference. If they could be destroyed, seeing them blow apart and have human blood inside was a shock, but it didn't stop me from finishing the robotic things off.

Once the metallic bodies crumpled over, I sat at the table and stared up at the camera. Your move, bitches. I whispered to whoever my captors were. I secretly hoped that I hadn't just lost my chance at escape by breaking the rule. But even so, this wasn't the life I wanted no matter how perfect it seemed. It was fake. I held the weapons close to me as I glared at the camera. Then gas filled the room.

It took me down before I could even really react. It was paralyzing and suffocating and I was knocked out in seconds. Waking up, I was back upstairs again. New clothes. No weapon. A quick check of the master bedroom told me that the wall closet was now sealed off. A mistake that my captors rectified quickly. and downstairs my perfect fake family waited.

Breakfast is ready, Lucas. The woman said happily as she smiled when I appeared. I gave her a lopsided response and said, Thanks, Mom, I said half-heartedly. I don't know if I will be out of here anytime soon, but until then, I guess I will make the most of it. Two children had been severely burned before I got to the orphanage. According to the headmaster,

the seven-year-old in front of me was the cause. He had a scowl that told me everything. You don't like it here, do you, Eric? I said to the orphan in front of me, as he squirmed in his seat. I just want to go. Where would you go if you had a chance? I don't know. Maybe a treehouse? Do tree houses burn? He asked. That was an odd question given his apparent pyromania. I offered him a simple yes, as I slid him across a few of his old belongings from before he lost his family. A pair of shoes, a lucky coin, a few photos, and some candy wrappers he did. to collect. The nurses told me that you don't keep any of your things anymore. Could you tell me why?

He only sneered at the items and curled his legs in, not even wanting to touch them, as if they were hurting him the same way a fire could. They remind you a family, don't they? Surprisingly, he nodded slowly. That was a milestone of progress, given his lack of cooperation the school had documented. I checked his fine, noting that even though he was an orphan, he still had some living family. Do you want to go home, Eric? No, I can't go back there. He said as he gripped his head and started panicking. He kept repeating the same phrase over and over. It was clear that this emotional response could be triggered at the flip of a switch. But still, I needed to press further if I was going to make any progress with him on such short notice. What had happened to make him

scared of home so much? Don't worry. You don't have to go back. I reassured him. As I watched his eyes, keep darting toward the items. I bet you'd like to get rid of this stuff. A reminder of all that you went through, am I right? He nodded again and calmed down a bit. It could be cathartic. What would you do with all of it? I asked softly. Burn it, he said without even blinking an eye. It was the first time since we met, I saw something besides fear and his demeanor. This was a lust for revenge. But it wasn't out of anger that he wanted this. Someone or someone. Or someone. Something had hurt him. You know, I'm with you on that one.

Who needs this stuff anyway? I gestured for one of the nurses to come into the room and asked for a box of matches. We don't keep any of those supplies near the classrooms, she said softly. I knew they were just trying to be safe after the accident. I sighed as I looked back toward Eric. I knew if I didn't hurry, I might lose progress I had made. Please, I will monitor everything, I told her. She gave me a skeptical look, but complied with him.

with my request. I sorted out the item so that Eric could get a chance to review them before we began. If there is anything you want to keep. In response, the boy grabbed the candy wrappers first and tossed them into the waste bin. I gave him a soft smile and lit the match. All right then, I told him. Eagerly, he tossed it on top of the trash. A small burst of fire began to spread. His eyes were sparkling as the flame began to get bigger. Then he grabbed the coins. I didn't bother telling him that they wouldn't burn. I could see that he was enjoying this. I offered the photographs next, but he ignored them and grabbed his shoes. I found that significant, so I paused to stare at the photographs and see if there was anything important about them. Some were of his parents, and a few of just

Eric by himself. But there was one where a stranger was present, and from the way the man was dressed. I could tell that it was a priest. Casually, I slipped the photograph into my pocket as Eric finished burning the other items. The shoes were nearly covered in fire now. I knew it was a small act, but this was just the first that could help him heal. Afterward, I examined the photograph more closely. Somehow this man was connected to the pain that Eric held inside. Once our session was over, I excused myself for a moment. I took out my phone and scrolled through my contacts to find an old number. I'm one of those eccentric people that never deletes anything off my phone. And for once, it paid off when he answered the phone.

Hello? The man asked. His tone told me he wasn't sure who was calling. This is Dr. Kenneth Avery. How are you? There was a long pause. He was probably trying to remember who I was. How did you get this number?

He asked finally. I'm a pack rat. Guilty is charged. Hey, does your phone accept pictures? Yeah. Why? What do you need? I hated the first time I had contacted him in all these years was to ask a favor.

I'm sending something your way. I want to see if you recognize someone. If you can help identify them, I'll owe you one, I told him. He said, his curiosity was piqued. I snapped the picture and forwarded it to my old friend. Is this about those kids? He asked after finally receiving it. You know something about them?

I jumped at the opportunity to learn all I could about the incident, especially since the staff here hadn't been very forthcoming. Not much, but everything I do know is just sad. Those kids is going to do more help than harm, he told me. I didn't bother making a response. It will take a few days. I'll see what I can find. I thanked him and stared at the photograph a moment longer.

I hated to even consider that he might be right about my methods because Eric needed closure. I couldn't afford to let doubt sink in. My old friend pulled through with my request in less than 36 hours, but it wasn't good news. His name is Robert Finch. He was part of our youth seminary for about two years, but I'm afraid he was excommunicated last year. He told me. What happened?

Nothing, actually. He was a great part of the community, but he just decided to leave. A few of those close to him said that he lost faith. Probably guilt drove him away, if you ask me. Eli said, guilt over what? There were rumors that he was a molester, a modern-day monster. Of course, that's all there ever was. You know how things work around here?

Whispers of negativity are quickly suffocated. But I think any rumor like that must have some merit of truth to it, right? And that boy in the photograph, I'm positive I saw him go to Father Finch's private quarters a time or two. There it was, in no uncertain terms. Even if my friend had his doubts, I knew it had to be the core of Eric's problems. This supposedly devout religious man had abused him, and more than likely, it had been ongoing until Eric had managed to break free. It was not coincidental that his parents were out of the picture. Chances were the trauma he would deal with because of his family dying would last for a lifetime.

It made me angry just to consider that Eric had been forced to such extremes, likely because the priest was smart enough to realize that one day he would be shut down for all of the other clandestine activities they did. I told the headmaster what I discovered immediately. That's excellent progress, doctor. And you're certain you can trust this friend of yours? The best way to find out is to go through Eric. If this man did something to him, there's no doubt in my mind he will act out when confronted with the fact, I told her.

The next session I had with Eric, we made arrangements to broach the delicate subject. I insisted that he'd be allowed to be among other children beyond just the ones that he had interacted with before. That probably is a bad idea, the nurse worried. I'll watch everything, I insisted. I wanted to see if their presence would affect his attitude or not. She was skeptical again, but still, I knew that this needed to be handled as soon as possible. I've learned over the years there is no easy way to help a child cope with this sort of trauma,

but that doesn't mean we shouldn't try. I wanted to gain his trust, because if I could find a way for him to make sense of the ordeal he had gone through, then there might be hope for the rest of them too. Hey there, Eric. How are you feeling today? We were sitting in the small library this time in the East Wing. Eric was acting out again, grabbing books off the shelf and ripping pages out. The other kids there were crying and upset because of his behavior.

The nurse was about to intervene when I shooed her away. I wanted to understand the reasons behind his anger and help him work through them. It looks like you're feeling angry. Eric didn't stop. Can we talk or play like we did yesterday? The casual approach was getting me nowhere. So I decided to pull out the picture and focus on the issue head on. It would be like a band-aid being ripped off, I told myself.

Eric, do you recognize this man? He was still ripping the books, but his eyes darted to the photograph. He had a flash of distress cross his face. This man hurt you, Eric. That's why you're destroying those books, isn't it? I told him. Eric got so mad that he tossed him. the books toward me. He didn't want to hear what I had to say. He screamed and started hitting other

kids near him. A few of the staff rushed in to keep him from causing their harm. What's gotten into you? The nurse asked, as she stormed in. You asked me to get to the heart of the issue, and that's precisely what I'm doing. She gave me a look that made me feel like she wanted to scold me. This isn't something that can be solved in one session. All of them will likely take years of therapy, and some of which I doubt I will be able to provide. Have you considered outsourcing clinics nearby? But the nurse said nothing. Apparently my failure was enough to leave me ostracized, just like the children in her eyes. I wasn't quite sure where my investigation would go next. I felt certain that if I could get Eric to open up about Finch, that it might help control his outbursts. The brief calm

spirit he displayed near the fire was proof of that, but I couldn't get anywhere without cooperation from the staff. I went to bed frustrated, but still hopeful I could make them see reason the next day. As it turned out, though, circumstances didn't require me to inconvenience the headmaster or her cronies. During the twilight hours, Robert Finch had come to Al Creek. I was awakened roughly by one of the staff around 7.30 to this news, each of them accusing me of being the one that summoned him there. I would never even consider doing such a thing. Have you called the authorities? I asked the headmaster, but he seemed averse to the idea. What proof beyond the rumors you spoke of do we have that this man is guilty of anything at all? She questioned. I bit my bottom lip and realized

she was right. I stared down at the lobby where the skinny balding man was just standing nervously and made a decision. One way to find out. The headmaster and I met with Finch 10 minutes later. He looked troubled. Can we help you, sir? She asked. I'm here to see one of your children. His name is Eric Weiss, the former preacher said. And why would you want to do that? I asked evenly. There was no way I was about to let this monster near Eric. I knew him before he came here. I needed. I have to see him. Please.

It will only be for a minute. Finch insisted. His palms were sweaty, and it looked like he had barely gotten any sleep. I'm afraid that won't be possible, the headmaster decided. Eric is very sick right now. He can't accept any visitors. I'm very sorry. He looked disheartened, but didn't question her decision. I couldn't let it go at that, though. Something brought you here. What was it? Robert looked me dead in the eyes like a cat, caught in a cage. I've been having dreams about Eric lately. At first, they were just distant reminders of our time together. But lately the dreams have been troubling.

I think the boy may be in some sort of need for spiritual counseling, he answered. Even if that was the case, Such assistance wouldn't be coming from you. I made sure to show no wavering in my voice. I wanted him to know I was aware of his crimes. I understand. I suppose I really just wanted to come and to apologize. The boy has been through so much and so many people have never been there for him, Finch said.

I couldn't argue with that. But there was no way I was going to let his attempt at confession allow him near the boy again. Whatever purpose you had, you did travel a great distance to make it here. Why not stay for the night? The headmaster suggested. Finch accepted the offer as I pulled her aside.

Are you sure that's wise? If he really is what we think he is, the man has a guilty conscience of that, I'm sure, doctor. But this is neither a confessional nor an interrogation. The least we can do is at least offer some hospitality, she argued. I knew better than to try to make her see things differently. So instead, I offered to escort Finch to the same area where I was staying. I appreciate very much. You're all very kind, the man said as I led him across the grounds.

I didn't even say a word as we walked into Ward B. I kept walking until we reached the part of the ward where Eric and his friends were staying. Once inside, Robert froze when he saw the boy, and Eric had a look of absolute horror as well. Then Finch did something that surprised me. He dropped down on his knees and moved toward the boy. I hesitated to act. His behavior looked that of a desperate wild animal. Please, please, this has to stop, he muttered as he reached toward Eric. I moved to intervene.

You wanted to stop? The boy repeated. The voice was void of any emotion. The other children were watching. I couldn't help, but be dazzled at the entire spectacle. Yes, yes, please, I will do anything you ask, give you anything, just make it stop, Robert begged. He grabbed a hold of Eric's shirt.

Keep your hands off him, I snapped as I tugged him away. Eric simply looked numb. Tell me what you want, Eric. Please, Finch said sobbing. Why was this man so desperate to talk to him? Eric didn't even blink as he answered blank-faced. I want you to burn. Robert closed his eyes and then jumped straight toward the curly-haired little boy.

I scrambled to stop the grown man from earning Eric. The other children cried an alarm as Robert tried to choke him. I grabbed one of the heftier toys and knocked him in the back of the head to give Eric the chance to crawl away. To my surprise, though, The curly-haired six-year-old just froze, unresponsive to anything around him. A moment later, a group of orderlies rushed in to pin finched in, and I worked to get Eric free. It was over a few seconds later, as they struggled to pull him away, and the former preacher kept repeating this same thing over and over, begging Eric to make something stop.

The headmaster arrived a second later, glaring at me as I checked the boy for injuries. Now can I call the authorities? I asked. She didn't respond. instead instructing her staff to make Finch stay in one of the quarters on the third floor, designed for more violent patients in the old days. Are you all right? I asked the boy. Eric didn't respond to any of the prompts I gave him.

He just sat there stone-faced and numb to the world. No thanks to you. This boy is probably reverted to a catatonic state. The nurse said angrily as she took him away from me. I couldn't hold it against them for the frustration they faced. I had made a grievous mistake to prove my point about the danger that Finch presented. I went to the headmaster to apologize, but she didn't want to hear any of it. The police will take care of it from here, and as far as I'm concerned,

we can contact DHS to find someone more suited to help these children than you, she responded. I didn't have the strength to argue. I made my way toward the third floor, if only to apologize to Eric for my rash actions. But I never made it there. The sound of screams reached my ears near the top of the stairs. It was Finch. I rushed to find the room he had been placed in.

What I saw shook me to the core. He was banging against the door, desperate to get out, and upon his skin was the irrefutable evidence of flames crossing his body. A moment later, his whole upper chest and face were being consumed in an inferno. I took a step back, rummaging with the door only to confirm it was locked, and then shouted for assistance. It took them almost five minutes to reach me as Finch kept screaming in pain. He finally collapsed onto the ground from a blackout,

as the fire spread further onto him, somehow or another. Eric had gotten his wish. When the headmaster arrived, her mouth was agape. It felt eerie to stand there and realized that Eric was likely the one that had done this. Somehow, he had powers beyond my understanding. It was definitely time for me to leave. I'm about to die. I'm going to die, and the family that just adopted me are going to be responsible. Right now, I'm locked in a room waiting to be taken to surgery where my organs will be harvested and God knows what will happen to my body. I'm not supposed to even have a cell, but I have to get this message out. If not for my sake, for the health and safety of countless orphans that are out there

and will be used for these people. They aren't my real family. And maybe I was never meant to have one anyway. But one thing for sure, the orphan lottery is a lie. If you had told me that exact phrase four days ago, I would have said you were crazy. I've been waiting to have my name called all my life. My name is Derek, and yes, I'm an orphan. I grew up in a residential center in South London alongside about a dozen other kids just like me. We all had different stories about how we got here, disasters or disease or something in between. For me, it was a fire. I lost my family when I was seven, and it burnt half of my body. When I was placed at the orphanage, they said I was lucky. We have a special program here that helps children like you called the orphan lottery,

the headmaster said. It was a horrible name, but as she explained it, the way it worked made sense. There are literally millions of families that want to adopt. Unfortunately, for the most part, everyone wants to have a newborn, an infant. They want a child that they can call theirs. Older orphans are usually swept under the rug. My predecessor felt this was unfair. Wouldn't you agree? Before I could even voice a response, they just kept rattling on about how great the program was. I have to admit, I was impressed, especially with the accolades they gave it.

The lottery is designed to counteract a cruel world. Precisely once a month when a family comes to us for adoption purposes, we pull a name from random for the selection. These families are more, well-to-do. They donate more to our programs, and they understand that every child we take care of here deserves a fighting chance to get to live a normal life. I got to see how the lottery worked less than a week after coming to the orphanage. All of us were huddled into a small assembly room where we normally had breakfast, and were told to pick numbers.

Then we sat and listened to an intercom broadcast, and finally a number was called out. It was a young girl about three rows in front of me. She leapt up, waiting the number excitedly from side to side. The two men in white coats entered the room and congratulated her before our normal duties resumed. It was a simple and clean process, but for someone like me that was sure I was going to be trapped in the orphanage for life, it was profound. Winning the lottery was going to be my only way out of here.

There were some skeptics, and I wished dearly I had listened to them before my name was called. A close friend of mine, Peter, wasn't sure about any of it. Some of us made jokes and called him paranoid Pete, how I wish we had actually listened. It's odd that we don't get any testimonials from people that have been adopted. isn't it? They can come and tell us about how the families are taking care of them, how the lottery benefited them and stuff, he said. Peter had been there since he was five. You're just mad your name has never been called, someone said. I hope it never gets called. Something about all of it is fishy, but I didn't want to doubt. I knew it could possibly be too good

to be true, but I didn't want to believe that. I had to wait two years before my name was finally called. When my number came up during the morning routine, I felt someone shoved something into my back pocket as two men entered to escort me to what I thought was freedom. I didn't get a chance to realize it was a cell phone until I was well away from the orphanage. The family that took me in seemed nice enough at first. They quickly introduced me to their son, a boy about my age named Andrew. Andrew was on oxygen and looked to be in severe pain every time he took a breath. He gave me a look that told me he was suffering. Everything will be taken care of on Friday, dear, the woman said, kissing his forehead.

No red flags went off yet, but the second night after an awkward and quiet dinner, Andrew snuck into the guest room where they were keeping me. You need to leave, he rasped. Why would I do that? I have wanted this my whole life, I told him. Do you want to die? Because that is what will happen to you if you stay here, he snapped. His voice was trembling, and I asked if he was okay.

Don't you get it? My parents selected you to give me your lungs. They are going to hire a surgeon to kill you. you. I almost laughed at the insane notion, but Andrew was dead serious. You're just trying to scare me, I said. Andrew gave up on trying to convince me. Later that night, I remembered the phone that was shoved in my pocket when I was leaving the orphanage. I found a video of a girl. I recognized her from the orphanage. She was already dead in the clip. Her eyes removed, and another child was being given surgery for those exact optical implants. The next day, I showed Andrew the video.

This is what the lottery is for. They don't want to give you a chance at family. They want to give other families a chance at life that has been taken. I wanted to think it was a lie, and I even got angry and shoved him. His parents came in, took him away, and locked me in my room. That was yesterday. I have been waiting ever since. The father came in one time, too.

I think he wanted to apologize for what was about to happen. You must understand that the chances of adoption for an orphan dwindle away every single year. We have no need for wastes of oxygen in society. And I'm sure you agree that you don't want to be stuck at that dreadful place all your life. I've been trying to think of what to say and how to make it clear to anyone else out there what is happening. But I'm not sure anyone will believe me. I've used the internet and checked everywhere I can think of, but no one has heard of the orphan lottery. It's been a huge lie that was only told to us. I can hear them coming now. Please, if you do believe me, save the others.

Give them the hope that has been maliciously stolen from me. Thanks for listening. To get notified every time a new episode is released, be sure to click the follow or subscribe button and turn on all notifications.