First, I would like to say this is Dedicated to rush of the past and dreamsareinfinity6 (and the others) because they were the very first to hear about this story when I started writing it!
Summary: Things have definitely changed since they were truly innocent and pure. These girls have chilling pasts, so why are they so perfect? So angelic? Beware, these girls are darker than you think. "Sticks and stones might break your bones but angels will haunt you forever. You don't want to mess with me."
"So," Claire yawns, stretching as she stood out of the tight hospital chair. "How are they?"
"They're doing great, Ms. Lyons!" The nurse informs her cheerfully. "All thanks to your contribution!"
Claire plastered a smile on her face, as she had done so many times before she has lost count. "It's my pleasure, really! Whatever will help those leukemia kids is totally worth the cost."
She was constantly donating money to those kids, and not just the ones with Leukemia but some with Cancer, Diabetes, etc. Eager to please, and eager to save them- or that's what everyone assumed. But Claire Lyons doesn't just do this for any reason, and if they really knew her they would see right through her act. But they don't know her. Do they?
The hospital was a white canvas, just awaiting to be filled with color. It saddened the children who haunted the halls to know it would forever be blank. Polished tile, walls that got a paint job with out even a nick. The hospital looked so futuristic, so perfect. But yet it was a place where hundreds of people had died. How could something be so deceptively amazing? Claire asked herself. Then she mentally slapped herself. 'Deceptively amazing' was exactly what she was. Or rather, what people told her she was after they found out. But that would never happen again. Nobody would find out. Not this time.
A nurse led her down to one of the children's rooms. It was as crisp as the rest of the hospital, virtually untouched besides the brittle boy's body neatly tucked in the bed. He was so anemic from the sickness that he was monitored 24/7 in the safe but frigid walls of the Hospital. The nurse smiled before leaving her alone in the room. Claire frowned and paced around. The boy was still sleeping, which meant she was spared the awkward conversing that took place at her regular appointments.
Suddenly, he moved. It was small at first, just a light rustling. Now he was thrashing around in his sheets, ruining the perfect image the room previously possessed. Slowly, his eyes peeled open and fell on Claire. His expression was indecipherable, as far as Claire could tell. Sighing, she walked over to his bedside and took a seat. "How are you doing?"
"A-Are," he stammered. "Are you the one paying for this?"
"Yes," she answers slowly, chewing on her fingernail. His lips quivered as he warily brought them up to form a weak smile.
"Thank you, Ma'am."
"You're welcome, but you can call me Claire."
He nods before asking, "Claire, are you my guardian angel?"
"No," Claire begins. "But I could be."
The orphanage was a cold, dark place. Shadows looming the length of the hallways, invisible children's footsteps clattering against the floorboards; bound to that horrid place for an eternity. A graveyard with hundreds of the chilling gray headstones was just next door. The grass was dry, brown, dehydrated and unloved. Dormant trees scattered across the "front yard", branches crashing to the ground with the slightest touch of the cool wind. The sky was a dark and opaque. Massie stood out against the gloom. Her heels clicked perkily against the concrete sidewalk, hot pink. In her hands was a basket, woven intricately with leaves and flowers intertwined. Muffins were overflowing; chocolate, chocolate chip, blueberry, banana walnut and various other kinds.
Confidence oozing from each step, she strutted up to the door and knocked. The dense cold flooded her body, down to her veins. Her blood froze, but it was okay. She was used to that numb feeling. Suddenly, the door swung open-as if shoved by the wind. A dainty old woman, frail bones exposed through her skin, stood behind it. At first, she was not visible to Massie. But she quickly came into her vision and Massie beamed at her.
"Hello, Sister McLaughlin. How are you today?" she asks, stepping into the old home for rejects. The dusty gray wood planks creaked when she stepped on them, echoing through the house.
"I am well," the old woman croaked.
"Good," Massie nodded. "Any new children lately?"
"No, no." she shook her head slowly, as if trying to remember but sure there was nothing there. "There hasn't been too many since The Incident with Timothy."
"The incident?" Massie inquired. Sister McLaughlin chuckled eerily.
"Yes, child." She escorted herself and Massie over to the living room and sank into her nimble rocking chair. Massie just stood, not wanting to catch fleas from the century old couch. "The Incident. You remember it, right?"
"Sorry, Sister." Massie looked down. "I do not."
"Oh, I'm not surprised. It was so many years ago." Sister McLaughlin's eyes drifted off into space as she recalled the Incident. "We had just gotten 5 children, their parents had recently died in a fire. The eldest was, say 15? Yes, and the youngest was 4. The rest had random numbers in between that I can't remember. Just 15 and 4. That's all I need to know, really. So the oldest was a girl-like you. In fact, you're the same age now as she was. But anyway, the eldest went into a deep depression and that was that. We couldn't help her. But, her little brother didn't realize what had happened to their family and was happy. There were countless times when people wanted to adopt him, but he wouldn't go without his whole family. And his oldest sister was repelling those families away.
"One day," Sister McLaughlin continues. "she snapped. She took her siblings down to the woods and to the river. She set them all on fire and they jumped in the water, forgetting that they hadn't but a clue how to swim. The youngest, though, knew it was hopeless. He knew he couldn't swim and the thrashing waves frightened him. So she put out is fire and just shoved him in. He was swept away, never to be found again. The others were recovered though, alive and just a bit burnt. They haven't seen their brother or sister since."
It was like an old ghost story that her friends would tell at the bonfire during Summer Camp. Spooky, but nothing like the tale of her life.
But no, lets not get into that.
At least not right now.
Massie was soon done helping the lonesome orphans to their breakfast and was preparing to leave when Sister McLaughlin stopped her. "Before you go, I want you to have this."
She lifted a wrinkled hand to her closed fist and opened it, placing a round object inside of it and folding it back up again. "It's special. Something as magnificent as this only comes around for a magnificent girl like you."
"Thank you, sister." Massie curtsies respectfully and leaves, closing the door ever-so carefully behind her. Once outside, she looks inside her hand to find a locket. It was marvelously intricate and delicately engraved with the word 'angel' on the back. She smiled and slipped it over her neck before hopping on her bike and riding home.
Kristen and Dylan applauded the kindergartners, gently tapping their palms together. It was their first dress-rehearsal for the recital they were having in two days. Flipping her blonde hair, Kristen stood and pulled her clip board up. She rested the bottom edge against her stomach. "Okay, great run-through! You two bees in the front row though, I'm keeping an eye on you!" the two little boys giggled and she let a smile spread across her lips. "Yes, I'm talking to you two! Michael, Drew!"
Twirling her own red locks, Dylan stood up as well. They were volunteers for the School District's Performing Arts program and therefore were forced to work with little kids. Not that they could complain, the children were darling little angels. Dylan squeezed down the aisle and walked up some steps to the stage. Children in flower and insect costumes littered the area, almost making Dylan claustrophobic.
"Okay Tulips, remember to spin just three times. Don't just keep going until you're so dizzy you pass out," she directs. They all chuckle and whisper among each other, telling secrets that 'should not be uttered to a single soul'. Dylan remembers the wonders of youth when she looks at them. She also remembers all the-
Well. All the 'stuff' that happened.
Kristen convinces all of the children to get in correct order by promising ice cream will be at the cast party after the show, and suddenly they are performing their roles perfectly. Why am I not surprised, Kristen and Dylan think at the same time.
...
Later, they were locking up the doors to the auditorium. A sudden burst of cool air whirled past them, Dylan shivering at the slight touch. "What was that?" Dylan asked. Kristen shrugged.
"Someone probably left the door open when they were leaving the building."
Dylan looked over her shoulder, to the main entrance of the school. The black framed windows and doors were as untouched as they had been five seconds ago. "But, the door's closed...?"
"Then, it's the air-conditioning." She waved it off. "Quit being so jumpy."
With that, the blonde girl picked up one of the brown boxes full of costume and make-up supplies and carried it outside to the car, persisting through the doors and out into the cold, windy day. The buzz of cars whizzing past each other on Main Street blocked all other noise in the desolate parking lot. She finally reached the Honda Odyssey and fished out the keys from her purse. Once they were in her hand, she pressed the button to unlock it and pulled open the trunk door. The box in her nimble grasp, she prepared to set it down before noticing the red stains in her recently vacuumed car. She notices two thick strands of hair peeking out from under the seat. Letting out a strangled yelp, she let the box drop to the ground and spill its contents all over the rain-sodden road. But she blinked twice, and the car returned to normal, no sight of the crime scene she imagined.
Or did she remember it?