"Happy birthday, happy birthday to me. " Rae hummed. Her hands gliding over the dust covered floor, sketching out a cake. Puffs of dust flew up, her clean hands slowly turned grey. She looked up. Her eyes wandered around. Memories flood into her. The split floor boards sticking up, with splinters leaving her bare foot covered in bruises and cuts. The ripped curtains, destroyed by her anger whenever she was locked in her room. The wax candle, slowly burning source of warmth; she never had a fireplace nor a stove, just one small candle. In the corner of her tiny room was a cot, on the cot there was no pillow, but a tattered, dirty fleece blanket. A blanket she made from scraps of fabric found in the back of an unwanted sewing box.
Tears began to rolled down her cheeks. Streaming across the scar across right eyes extending from the right eyebrow to the left cheekbone. She began to sob. " I wish, I wish " she sniffled, " I wish I can run away. I wish I can go somewhere far away. A place where I am not locked behind a wooden door, separating me from the real world. I wish… I can see my mom and dad, again." She opened her eyes, silver eyes that glistened under the moonlight creeking through the tiny crack of the window.
She heard footsteps storming down the stairs. The door opened, there stood Grandma Carol, her hands on her hips. She wore a pink fluffy robe, owl printed slippers, and had curlers in her hair. Around her neck dangled an expensive diamond necklace, with the key to Rae's room. And, the oder, anyone within a mile's distance could smell grandma Carol, and run. She smiled, but her smile was fake, a toothless, cranky smile. Drool ran down the side of her mouth, smudging her velvet red lipstick.
She used her robe's sleeve to wipe a running drool from the side of her mouth. " Shouldn't you be in bed Ranae Iridescea? " Then she angrily threw her hands up, " Cuz I didn't just hobble down those stairs for nofin' You would wake ur ol' grandma, for nofin'? " Renae's head dropped, clearly ashamed
Her eyes widened, " You see these eyes?" she pointed to her green, bloodshot eyes, "They have not gotten enough sleep, because you had to wake me up in the middle of the night. But, these eyes have seen years of work. They seen battles fought. They have seen people come and go. "
Then her eyes looked down to her hands. Her left hand had a missing pinkie, while her right hand missed a thumb. Blue and black veins were visible, under the ghostly white skin. The hands shook with pain. " These hands worked with unimaginable weapons and tools. They have been through work in the field, back when agriculture was more important than those factory work. They worked at a sewing machine, one stitch at a time, making clothes. These hands have even shot a gun, your father's gun. When your father ran all the way over here to protect you from a certain dark human. "
Rae sighed lifting her head up, " Voldemort?"
" Yes, Vol-" she paused, and looked up with her crazy green eyes, " demort, he took your father's life that day. Shame, your mother didn't help. So your father came over here, close behind him was the man. A cloaked man, with a black cloak, white hands, black clawlike nails. Your father said, 'SHOOT!' I did. I pointed that gun at the man. The cloaked figure laughed. I closed my eyes, it was too late, I heard ' Avada Kedavra' and pulled the trigger, and when I opened my eyes the cloaked man was gone. All that was left was your father with no bullet holes or signs of injury. Right next to him, was his only weapon, a useless stick. "
Rae yawned,and walked back to her drawing, plopped down on the floor next to it, and started to complete her drawing upon the dust covered surface.
" You yawn? You yawn at these stories and treat them as fairy tales? You, at this time is drawing on the floor? What a piece of art? " She mockingly stated as she walked up to the picture on the floor. " What is this scribble?"
" Grandma! It's my birthday. I am 11. " Rae answered.
" Eleven eh?" She stomped on the picture, "Yet, you are not at school. No one wants you in their school . You have no friend. No family. Even so, I am nice enough to give you a place to stay. A bed to sleep in. A source of heat. This should be luxary."
After finishing, Grandma Carroll lift up her foot. What once was a drawing of a birthday cake, was the owl print from the bottom of Grandma Carol's slipper. She turned on her heel, slammed the door, and walked away. Reality struck back onto Rae: she is never going to be able to leave this place. She is trapped. Tears began to flood out of her eyes, she curled into a ball. Devastation and depression fell upon her shoulders. Behind her, in the distance, she could hear the hoots of an owl, flying freely in the night.