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Grandma was always telling her about the man with scissors where his fingers should be, and young Kimmy was enchanted by the story. When Mom was around to hear her request it, she would always pick Kimmy up and say, "Honey, Grandma's tired right now. Let her rest." She never understood why her mother disliked the story so much. It was a poignant little tale, but Kimmy was convinced that they could still change the ending.
When she'd ask Mom why they didn't try to go back up there, she'd always get the same answer. "Sweetie, they're just fairytales. And that castle is a filthy old place. I don't want you going up there - who knows what kinds of people are lurking around up there? It must be dangerous."
She'd learned it was better not to ask Mom, but she had already decided that she'd be the one to find Edward again. Maybe then she wouldn't look so wistful and sad when she spoke about him. Kimmy became a swift little liar, using made-up friends and birthday parties and bike rides as excuses to go visit the castle. Dad was glad to see that she was making an effort to go outside and make some real friends ("Not just book friends") so she was visiting the castle almost as often as she'd like.
Her ventures always resulted in failure, but it was her first taste of adventure and Kimmy wasn't easily daunted. She knew he was there. She'd seeen the garden, and she'd seen the signs of somebody living in a room upstairs. Kimmy would always shout "I know you exist!" before she left, just to remind him that she wasn't giving up.
Sometimes Kimmy was content to just sit in the garden and read. It was beautiful there. Whoever tended it (Edward, she assumed) had a talent for art, and she'd be awed to see the bushes shaped into different animals and charming little figures. The garden was always alive with blooming flowers and chirping birds and the bubbling sounds of the fountain. It was a stark contrast to the lumbering castle in the distance and the jagged black bars that made up the gate. She liked it there, but she was always disappointed that he would never show himself.
It was years until he finally answered her.
The day after her grandmother's funeral was the first day she'd ever heard Edward. Kimmy had squeazed herself through the bars, red-faced and heaving with angry, choked sobs. The garden was indifferent to her pain, remaining cheery and beautiful as always. A few butterflies danced above the pansies, fluttering around and enjoying the new spring blossoms. Some birds splashed around in the gurgling fountain. Life continued on and it infuriated Kimmy. "She'd dead!" Kimmy shouted, and hot, fresh tears welled up in her eyes. "Grandma's dead, and she never got to see you again!"
A few birds flew away, startled at the loud noise. She didn't even know if he could listen anymore. Maybe everybody was right, and she was just a girl that was getting too old for fairytales. Maybe Grandma had said her story so many times that she'd started to believe it, and Kimmy was just wasting her time for a senile old woman's delusions.
"Everybody calls me crazy! Everybody says I'm too old to have an imaginary friend!" Tears were streaming down her round cheeks. "It was supposed to be a surprise but now there's no point anymore. She's gone. Why... Why couldn't you answer?"
She broke down, sobbing angrily. Kimmy wasn't sure if she was crying because she missed her grandmother or if she was just tired of trying. When she was younger, Mom and Dad wouldn't think much of her interest in Grandma's stories. As she grew older, though, the teacher conferences started. The words "overactive imagination" were used often in reference to Kimmy, and suddenly she was seeing a nice lady with red lipstick every week. She asked about a lot of things, like how she was feeling and how her cat was doing and if it was difficult making friends.
Kimmy turned to leave but was stopped by a small, gentle plea: "W-wait...!"
The young girl stopped, wondering if she'd finally lost her mind. She turned back to see the frightened, pale face of a young man. His hair was dark and messy, and scars littered his face. He was still somewhat hidden by the nearby bush, but she could guess who she was. Kimmy was stunned into silence.
"Who was your grandmother?" He asked softly. His voice was timid, but kind.
"She... She knew you. Her name was Kim." The girl spoke hesitantly. "My Mom says she named me after her."
His eyes widened, and she could see grief spread through his features. He was silent for a long time, and Kimmy wondered what he was thinking. Finally, he said, "It's been such a long time since I'd seen her. You look like her."
Kimmy face furrowed a bit. No she didn't. Grandma was wrinkly and had white hair and was terribly old, but she didn't want to make him feel stupid so she didn't say anything.
He was silent for another minute or so before she finally deemed it appropriate to speak. "I like the name Kimmy better."
"My name is Edward."
"I know. I was looking for you for a long time."
He seemed genuinely remorseful. "I'm sorry... that I didn't answer until now."
She hesitated. "It's okay... Gramma always said you didn't really have a 'good experience' with people. I get it. I don't have a lot of friends either. People are mean." Her eyes were glued to the floor as she admitted the last part.
His face softened. "Not everybody, Kimmy." Edward said softly, trying to reassure the small girl. "You're not."
The response surprised her. She looked up at him. "Maybe we can be friends," she suggested quietly.
He offered her a tiny smile. "Alright."
That was a start. She smiled crookedly back at him. It was a strange day for the both of them. "Don't hide from me tomorrow, okay?" With that, she turned out and ran back to the gate. She never told anybody about their encounter. Nobody would believe her, after all.