Chapter 2 Echoes of Home

The sound of heavy rain fills Eiran’s ears. It hits the roof of a small house near the edge of the city. The walls are thin and the floor is cold, but the house feels warm. It feels real.

Eiran sits near the window and watches the rain slide down the glass. His orange hair sticks to his forehead. In this memory, he feels younger. Smaller.

His father is in the kitchen, counting money on the table. There is not much of it. He counts slowly, like every coin matters.

“Is it enough?” Eiran asks.

His father looks up and smiles. “Yes. It’s enough. Your brother deserves it.”

Today is his brother’s birthday. His brother is older and stronger. He helps their father work every day and brings money home. He never complains. Eiran knows his brother is tired, but he always smiles.

They want to celebrate him. Not with a big party, just warm food and time together.

Eiran looks at the door. “He should be home by now.”

The rain grows louder outside.

“He will come home,” his father says. “He always does.

Time passes. The clock moves forward, but the door stays closed. The rain does not stop. Eiran feels something heavy in his chest.

“He’s late,” Eiran says quietly.

His father stands up and puts on his jacket. His face looks serious now. “I’ll go look for him,” he says.

When the door opens, cold air and rain rush into the house. Then the door closes again. Eiran is alone.

Minutes pass. Then more minutes. The house feels too quiet. Only the sound of rain remains. Suddenly, Eiran hears a shout from far away. It is unclear and short. Then it is gone.

His heart starts to beat faster.

Something is wrong.

The memory begins to break. The sound of rain fades. The house becomes blurry. Faces lose their shape. Eiran tries to remember their names—his father’s name, his brother’s name—but they disappear from his mind.

He cannot remember.

Everything turns dark.

...-o0o-...

A soft melody fills the room.

It is gentle and beautiful, like a song meant to calm the heart. Eiran opens his eyes slowly. The white ceiling of Home is above him. For a moment, he forgets where he is. Then the memory of the rain and the house fades again.

The melody continues.

Eiran sits up and listens. The sound is not coming from his room. It feels farther away, like it is calling him. He stands and follows it through the white halls.

The hallway opens into a large room.

There are many children inside.

Dozens of them.

They stand in neat lines, facing forward. Some are the same age as Eiran. Some are younger. A few stand apart, unsure and stiff, as if they do not fully understand where they are yet.

Eiran realizes they must be the new ones.

At the front of the room stands Mom.

She looks calm, her posture straight, her eyes gentle but sharp. When she speaks, her voice is soft, yet everyone can hear it.

“Today, we have new children joining Home,” Mom says.

No one speaks. The melody fades into silence.

“They were found alone and afraid,” she continues. “Just like all of you once were.”

Eiran’s chest tightens.

Mom explains that most of the children in Home have lost their memories. Fear and pain broke them, she says, and forgetting was the only way they could survive.

“This place exists to protect you,” Mom says. “You don’t need to remember the past anymore.”

Her gaze moves slowly across the lines of children and pauses for a moment on Eiran.

“Some of you may remember small pieces,” she adds.

“That is normal.”

Eiran feels his hands grow tense. He knows she is speaking about him, even if she does not say his name.

“You are all my children now,” Mom says. “And I will take care of you.”

The word feels strange in his chest.

Children.

Mother.

Eiran should question her. He should feel afraid. He should remember the rain, the house, and the feeling of waiting.

But his head feels heavy. The calm in Mom’s voice wraps around him. The fear inside him grows quiet.

And even though he does not understand why, Eiran believes her.

Mom walks slowly to the front of the room. Her steps are calm, steady, and sure. In her hand, she carries a thick folder. The edges are worn, like it has been held many times before.

She lifts it slightly.

“This is where you are kept,” she says.

Her words are soft, but they land heavily.

She opens the folder. Pages shift quietly. Eiran cannot see what is written, but he imagines rows of names and notes. His name must be there too.

“I know all of you,” Mom continues. “I know what you like. I know what you miss.”

She turns her head and looks at one child standing near the front. “You’ve been thinking about your favorite food,” she says. “Tonight, I will make it for you.”

The child blinks, then nods slowly. A small smile appears on his face.

Eiran feels something strange twist inside him. How could she know?

Mom closes the folder and holds it against her side.

“Everything you want will come,” she says. “But only if you follow the rules of Home.”

Her smile fades.

“If you break them,” Mom adds, “you will be punished.”

The room goes silent.

Eiran hears his own breathing. He notices how still everyone is. Some of the younger children stare at the floor. A few of the new children shift their weight, unsure where to stand.

For a moment, Mom’s face changes. Her eyes look cold.

Sharp.

Then she smiles again.

“For our new children,” she says gently, “you will find the rules waiting in your rooms.”

She gestures toward the hallway. “Read them carefully.”

Mom looks at the lines of children once more.

“When you turn seventeen,” she says, “I promise you a wonderful gift.”

Eiran feels the room lean closer.

“You will meet your real parents,” Mom continues. “They will adopt you and take you home.”

Some children gasp quietly. Others smile, their eyes shining.

“That is why you are trained here,” Mom says softly.

“Rules make you better. Rules prepare you.”