There is always that one house on the street that everyone avoids. Rumors start about it. How the family inside it was murdered, and how there is only one survivor. The kids are both terrified and intrigued by it. The mothers on the block use it as a way to scare the children into doing what they want them to do. There is always that one house. The house with the large bronze gates which protect years of secrets. The house with the unruly vines that creep up the side of the brick walls blocking it off from everyone else. My house.
I swear, my Mommy and Daddy were not mean people. And my family was not murdered. I just live alone, but its okay, because mommy and daddy made it so before they had to leave for heaven. But none of the kids want to hear the real story. It would ruin their little fantasy world. I don't mind them using me as a part of their fantasy lands. In fact, its kind of really cool. But sometimes I wish I could invite kids over to my house, or that I could walk down the street without the mothers latching onto their children. Sometimes I want to run down the streets screaming that I exist and that if I have done anything wrong to deserve this than to be forgiven.
But my guardian angel says things like that are nonsensical. And that I don't need friends and other people to notice me. Because I have her; and Mommy and Daddy sent her from heaven to watch over me, because god wanted to see them a bit earlier than they expected.
I don't tell other people about my angel. She told me not to. She says that they wont understand. But I don't mind. I don't want to share her anyways. She is really pretty you know. She has this pretty pink hair and the most amazing green eyes. Sometimes when I feel really lonely, I close my eyes and I can see her eyes and I don't feel so bad anymore. I don't get to see her all the time. She is an angel after all and she is very busy. But she is there whenever I need her.
Like this one time, when the kids at school were chasing me home because they thought I was a demon child, I tripped and fell. I thought for sure that the other mean kids would catch up to me, and I would get a beating of a lifetime. But a large gust of wind came rushing down the road where we were, and the pink petals swirled in the wind in such intricate patterns that they boys were all astounded. I got up and ran home before they even noticed.
She would never hurt anyone. Actually, my angel is a healer. She has the ability to heal all wounds. After the incident with the boys, when I got home, she was waiting for me. A green glow emitted from her hand and she gently touched it to my knee which had gotten scraped. She was better than any doctor I had ever known. I had once asked her where she was when Mommy and Daddy got in that awful accident, and none of the doctors here could help them. She told me that she couldn't do anything about that, because she was sent only to protect me. I started crying when she told me that because I felt so guilty. If she wasn't my angel, then maybe my parents would still be here.
But she had giggled, and rested her soft hand on my head and ruffled my hair. She told me that I shouldn't cry, and that she was my angel, because my parents couldn't be here at the moment. That thought made me smile.
Some nights I miss Mommy and Daddy more than anything though. Like nights when I can hear the shouts of some of the mothers calling in their children for dinner from my bedroom window. Or those nights where a family is strolling by underneath my house, and I can hear the child laugh, and the parents happiness permeates my cement walls.
I once asked my angel if she could fix the hurt in my chest. She had smiled sadly at me and said she wish she could. But certain things were too much even for angels to do. I asked her why she couldn't do it, and she had told me that some wounds only heal with time. And time is one thing an angel cant control. She told me that one day when I'm all grown up I wont even remember her. That one day, I wont believe in angels like the other adults, because when I don't need her, she has to go away.
She looked sad when she said that.
So I held her hand, and I smiled at her.
"You're my family" I had said. "and family is never forgotten."