Chapter 1 -The Three Children
Once there were 3 children, two boys and their older sister. They were normal… in fact they were Darlings.
The wind blew secrets around the air, chasing its tail like a dog. The wind sent cold chills to those it knew could overcome the cold. The wind could whisper in the ears of those who would listen. And so it did. After making an old sign with the words Ms Crain's Home for Homeless Children flap, the wind flew up the side of the building and into the ears of a girl, sitting on a bed near the window on the 3rd floor of an orphanage. The breeze tickled the earlobes of the girl, and brushed her hair off her face. The orphanage was completely dark, including the room, which the girl was standing, but in every window the street lights of Whistle Lane reflected. In the girls eyes also. Once the wind finished telling its tale and secret it flew away and didn't disturb the girl any longer, and left her to look at the stars.
"Jemma?" The girl turned around at the sudden mention of her name and faced inside of her room. The small room wasn't much but it had been home to her and her brothers for over 4 years. There was the door opposing the window, a bed under the window, which belonged to her, and another bed on the left wall. On the dusty rug in the middle was 'the middle brother' as she and Micah liked to call him. Julian Darling laid on the ground with a light blanket to cover him on that summer night, his dark brown hair sticking up from his head and covering his forehead. On the right of the room was an old wardrobe, with Julian's folded, round black glasses and a single photo in a frame on it. A photo that Jemma had looked at so many times. It was a picture of the Darling children. Wendy, John and Michael. She had been adopted from that orphanage 15 years ago by Michael Darling and his wife. Over the years she had been given the gift of two younger brothers, one currently aged 12 and the other, Micah, who was aged 4. Jemma had never known who her She saw her youngest brother, Micah sitting up on his bed. He was little with dirty blonde hair, like his fathers. Jemma herself had black hair. Not raven or a colour close. Her hair was the blackest as black went. The colour of the shadows cast by the street lights. Jemma got off her bed and careful not to step on Julian, went over to Micah's bed.
"What is it, Micah?" As she got closer, she saw that he was crying. Bunching her long sleeved maroon shirt at the wrist she wiped Micah's cheeks free of tears. But his eyes just created more. Jemma embraced her little brother and his small arms squeezed around her. Since he had not answered, Jemma understood he didn't want to talk about it.
"Again?" She asked. She felt Micah nod into her shoulder. Pulling back she looked into Micah's blue eyes, the same that he shared with Julian. Over the last few nights, Micah had woken crying at least once every three hours. The same dream. The same nightmare. A ticking crocodile.
"Micah, I assure you that there aren't any here." Jemma said, wiping away his tears. He stopped and looked at Jemma, his eyes shining.
"Promise?" He squeaked.
"Promise." Jemma hugged him again.
"Would you guys stop talking? I am trying to sleep before Ms Crain has to get us up."
Jemma smiled and bent down, off Micah's bed and patted Julian on the head. Standing back up, she tucked Micah back into bed and walked back to hers. Sitting back down she resumed her staring out the window, but this time she fiddled with a black necklace around her neck, charmless and bare. It was the second time she had been given a home in Ms Crain's Home for Homeless Children, the first time alone. She was less than 1 when her parents decided they didn't want her. She had been with the Darling family for 13 years, yet those 13 years were the best of her life.
Jemma laid down and stared at the ceiling. After a while she sat back up and walked over to Julian and Micah. She clicked her fingers in front of the faces twice each and neither of them moved. Deep sleepers. Jemma smiled, then she walked out of the door and shut it behind her. Looking down the hallways she could only hear different volumes of snoring. Loud to soft, everyone was asleep. Only days ago, Jemma had found out the secret that there was an archive of property of the orphans. Including herself. Jemma hoped that there was something about her. About who she was.
Tip-toeing down the hallways she came across a door with a large sign on it.
NO CHILDREN ALLOWED
From previous nights of searching, she knew that this was what she was looking for. Opening the door she entered an empty room. Dusty and dirty. Ms Crain probably doesn't let us clean here for she knows that someone would come across something about themselves, Jemma thought to herself. Closing the door behind herself, Jemma walked inside. The walls were covered in almost bare bookshelves. Folders stood up messily on each one, a large letter also stood on the shelf to show whose was where. Jemma went straight to the 'J'. There were many there, looking at each she recognised names of people she knew, but also people that she didn't.
"How old are these?" Jemma said to herself. Then she found hers.
Checking the door again, she opened the folder.
A picture of her sat in the top corner and her name was written beside it. Jemma… no surname? She thought. Opening it she found two pieces of paper. The first was a letter.
Watching the door she read.
My dear daughter,
You are sleeping in my arms while I am writing this. Your hair is short on your head, but a smile lines your mouth. I tell you everyday not to let anyone push you down. You are special in a way that you wouldn't understand now, but I promise that soon you will see the truth, sooner or later. Make sure that others don't tell you what to do. Be yourself and be a leader. That is what you were born to do. I will have to leave you soon, and I hope that you will find the truth. I love you to the Second Star and back, but I fear that telling you the truth would result in you planning your life because of it. Whatever your Father's story was, you can write your own. Please. Be you. Be my baby Jem. I promise that I will see you again and I can explain everything. I promise. I plead for your forgiveness. Please forgive me, my daughter. You are destined for greatness. If you don't find me first, I promise that I will come back for you. I don't know how long you will be there, but you will never be alone. Someone is watching over you, and I know that you will meet them. For now, remain being my stubborn, beautiful little girl. I love you, my daughter. My rare Jem.
Jemma looked down the page. The end had been ripped off.
"No!" She said running her fingers across the base of the paper.
"I am afraid so." Jemma spun around and saw Ms Crain in the doorway. The large lady had her grey hair in two plaits over her shoulders. She wore a clean white night gown and had bare feet.
"I... I… I can explain…" Jemma stuttered.
"Don't you children learn?" Ms Crain leant against the wall, Jemma was frozen stiff. "People are stupid. Adults are stupid and their children are even stupider."
"Ms Crain?"
"Mummy and Daddy leave baby at orphanage because they don't want baby." She said as if she was speaking to a toddler. "But Mummy and Daddy are stupid as they leave note saying they will return. Baby is left with hope, for the parents that would never return. Baby is left forgotten… and unloved."
Ms Crain walked up to Jemma and took her right wrist. Leaning back for a second, Ms Crain took something off the shelves. A wooden ruler. Smiling, Ms Crain brought the wood down on Jemma's knuckles.