Home. Merely a place, merely a word to Nathaniel, who did not remember what home was like. Sister Lillian had told him he was home, but he did not feel like it. Nevertheless, he knew he had nowhere to go, and home might as well be wherever he was cared for.

For the next couple of days, his visitors were none but Sister Lillian, Sister Maria, and the nurse. The nuns of the manor guarded the secret and had not called for a physician for the boy. Instead, they trusted in prayers and the care of the nurse. The nurse was even more daunting. Nathaniel found it quite discomforting as she'd poke around his body, asking if he was hurting. He couldn't tell if the pain was from his wounds or from the poking. She'd often make him swallow a bitter, tongue-curling tonic with the putrid smell of a rotting carcass.

"Drink it, child. All of it," the nurse sternly asserted when Nathaniel had spurted out the warm drink. He had no choice but to swallow it down under the nurse's iron stare. Sometimes he'd prefer that to the cautious looks Sister Maria and Sister Lillian cast upon him whenever they visited. He thought they treated him as if he were a glass tipped to the edge, on the verge of falling.

Three days had passed, and the nuns had made sure Nathaniel was well-fed and rested in the infirmary he was confined to. His bodily wounds dried and cured, but his mind bled raw. He often woke up drenched in sweat, panting from nightmares. His dreams were terrifying, as was life, and both had one more thing in common.

He had no memory of it.

Engulfed in the soft candlelight of the infirmary, Nathaniel tried to remember. He banged his head once—nothing. Nothing came to him. He fisted his hair out of sheer frustration. Maybe if he hit his head with something harder...

Before he could reach the porcelain vase on his bedside, his hand hit it and knocked it down to the floor, where it cracked and fell into shards. The flowers thrashed, and the water seeped into a dark patch on the rug. He picked up a shard, its edges gleaming white. He ran a finger over it, jolting when the sharp porcelain cut through his skin. He watched the tiny drop of blood bubble to the surface. Before it could get anywhere near the white cotton dress he wore or the white of the linen bedsheets, he put his finger in his mouth, tasting the copper of his blood, the shard in his other hand.

It had been three days. He had no memory of his life. He was nothing but a burden, a mystery to himself and to the others who had found him. Three days since his very existence had been tormenting him.

He knew nothing about life, but he knew it was no way to live.

The infirmary door's hinges groaned, jolting him and causing the shard to slip from his hand and onto the rug. 

The nurse walked in with her formal uniform, a white dress with a sash and a box-like veil covering her hair. Nathaniel watched in bewilderment, lying in his bed. The nurse had retired for the evening, likely with the other sisters, performing the prayers of the nightly holy hour. 

There was something strange about the way she moved. She was in no hurry, unlike the nurse he knew, who always scurried about fast, narrating her thoughts. Nathaniel dreaded the thought of having to swallow more medicine. He checked for any sign of medicine but found none in her hands. It was a different nurse; Nathaniel could tell by the bony hands that clutched the door as she peeked out.

She held the door open and let two boys in their night gown walk in before closing it. One was short, and the other was tall, so tall that he almost had to duck his way in. They both stood still, their gazes fixed on Nathaniel. The smaller boy let out a soft gasp, reaching for the taller boy's hand.

The "nurse" then stepped into the candlelight with the other two, took off her veil, and ruffled a head of unruly white hair, as white and silky as cobwebs. It was then that Nathaniel also noticed how her brows were white, and her eyes were pale blue.

To Nathaniel's surprise the nurse started  tugging at her dress, pulling out a roll of white cloth out of dress and tucking it in the pocket, letting her white dress fall flat against her chest.

It was no nurse. It was a boy just like him.

The three boys cautiously stepped towards the foot of his bed, their eyes widened and mouths agape. It was the white-haired, pale boy in the nurse's uniform who spoke first.

"Holy Cow!" He spat. "It is really you!"

The small boy tugged at the white-haired one's sleeve. He appeared to be barely older than eight with his large eyes, round face, button nose and chubby fingers that held on to the boney ones of the tall boy. His white nightgown, too large for him, drooped down his shoulder, and his chipped tooth hissed as he spoke. "You mustn't curse, Web."

The white-haired boy didn't care. "Flubs and Flibberfudge!" He swore again.

The tall boy stepped forward, shaking his head, which was covered in a knitted cap of sorts. "Where have you been?" He asked softly, squinting at Nathaniel.

Nathaniel's vision shifted between the boys before slowly focusing on the tall boy who had just spoken. Dark hair poked out from under the cap, which was clearly too small for his head.

"Yeah, we thought you ran away without us," Chip joined in, walking over to sit at the foot of the bed. Nathaniel straightened himself to sit on the bed but was still unable to utter a word. The simple act of forming a coherent thought alone was tiresome to him.

The tall boy laid a hand on Chip's shoulder, urging him to get off the bed. The small boy didn't move.

"No questions. Remember?" Web scowled at the other two. "Not until he recovers."

"You'll remember soon," the younger boy said with a toothy smile. "We overheard Sister Lillian say you're under a—a—" He trailed off, struggling to find the word the nun had used.

"Traumatic response," Beanie quipped. "And your memories just need time to resurface."

Web shook his head in dismay. Nathaniel was curled up at the other end of the bed, letting their words sink into his mind. Who were they? Why are they here? These were only a fraction of the many questions plaguing his mind. His vision blurred again. The white-haired boy noticed the shuffling of Nathaniel's feet beneath the sheet and the rapid rise and fall of his chest. The little chipped-toothed boy noticed it too. In hopes of reassuring Nathaniel, he took a step forward, but the white-haired boy pulled him back by the sleeve, his eyes downcast. "Careful. There's a broken vase."

"What happened?" The tall boy asked, not moving from where he stood at the foot of the bed. The white-haired boy groaned beside him. "What happened to no questions?"

"I'm sure he can remember what happened to the vase."

"Was it Nurse Miriam?" The tall boy asked. "She's temperamental."

The nurse would never have been so careless. Nathaniel willed his nerves to rest and shook his head. "It was me," he croaked. 

It was the first time in three days he spoke out loud. The sound was almost unfamiliar, and the air in his throat tickled. He thought he liked the sensation. His need for answers was far more important than the uneasiness. He gulped. "Who are you?"

The three boys shared a glance. The small one decided to speak first. "We're your brothers." 

"Do you not remember us in the slightest?" the white-haired one scowled. Nathaniel shook his head.

"My name's Webhead. You can call me Web," he said, gesturing to himself. "This is Chip." Web gestured to the small boy who flashed a toothy grin and stuck out his tongue, revealing his chipped tooth. "He was baptized as Christopher." Web added as a matter of fact. "We decided it was too big for this small fella."

Most of the boys were given names by the church at their baptism, as they were found as nameless orphans. However, they found the names they picked for themselves more fitting.

It was the tall boy's turn to introduce himself. "I'm Beanie."

"Short for Beanstalk!" Chip added with a giggle. "No, it's short for Beanpole!" Web interjected. "It can be short for whatever you like," Beanie said. In truth, it was both. Beanie was taller than many his age, and his height called forth his own name. "Beanpie?" "Beansticks." "Beanstorks!"

Nathaniel's face softened as he watched the exchange. What was I called? He wanted to ask, but before he did, he tried to remember, and suddenly he was too tired to speak again. The boys quieted as they noticed Nathaniel's features dim again.

"We missed you so much,"We prayed for you every day!" Chip said softly. "Everyone just assumed you ran away. "

"That was until the word got by that eight other children went missing the same day you did," Web said in a grim tone that sent shivers down Nathaniel's spine. "Some wealthy lord's only daughter had also disappeared."

"And he hired a team of detectives for a hefty price," Beanie joined. "They say they're darn good. They'll be here any day now. According to what we know, there have been no leads. You'd be the first." He added.

Nathaniel knew not what to make of it. He had no memory of where he was from, or where he had been to begin with. He thought he'd prove to be less useful in the case, but who was to say anyone would believe him.

"No one outside the manor knows you're here yet. It was the headmistress, Sister Lillian's decision to keep it a secret," Web went on. "She has also forbidden anyone from coming to the infirmary. So speak nothing of our visit to her."

Just then, the wooden door behind them creaked open, and they froze in their tracks as the nun entered.

"Sister Lillian," the three boys gulped. Sister Lillian's brows furrowed into a frown. Nathaniel hadn't seen her that way before in his three days at the Manor, nor did he have any memory of her strict ways with the children. In fact, he had no memories at all in that matter.

"Cornelius! What are you wearing!" Sister Lillian gasped aghast.

Web cringed inwardly upon hearing his name before he took notice of what Sister Lillian was infuriated over. "You snuck into the nurse's quarters through the window, stole the key to the infirmary, and stole her dress! Where is your decency?"

There was no other way to get away from Maurice, who guarded the wing. Thankfully, Maurice was farsighted. He walked close enough in range, ironically, and they were able to get away. Maurice had not questioned why the nurse was ushering two boys into the infirmary.

"Sister, we simply came to see if the rumors are true," Web said, standing tall.

Sister Lilian frowned, "I have given distinct orders to all the boys, Cornelius. You, Christopher, and Bernard are no exceptions. Nathaniel will join all of you when he has recovered." The boys flinched at the mention of their names.

Chip pleaded. "We came to see our brother."

"You've seen him now. Go straight to the prayer room. I will have a word with the three of you. No, Cornelius do not bother changing now. Leave-"

Sister Lillian's eyes fell on the broken vase on the rug.

"What have you boys done?" She gasped, pushing away the boys and taking a steady step towards the mess.

"It wasn't them." A new voice reached Sister Lillian's ears, confirming her prayers had been answered. "It was me." The voice said. It was the first time in three days Sister Lillian had heard Nathaniel speak.