The night was young, and the young duo passed the time by telling stories. Tim placed a hand on Renee's shoulder. She paid no attention to his and observed the raindrops racing down her window. A loud sigh was released from Renee's mouth.
"What's wrong, Redhead, tell a family story!" Tim teased Renee and played with her pajama pants.
"When I was 6, I... I finally confronted my mother about my bad dreams." Renee held back Tim's hand gently.
The teen was holding back tears trying to tell her story. A moment of awkward silence was shared between the two. Tim held Renee's fox plush as a puppet, moving his head to make him 'speak'.
"I'm all ears, Obituary! Tell me!"
Renee snatched back her plush and stroked its soft, orange fur. The memories with her plush began to flood back in her mind, causing tears to build up in her well-hidden eyes.
"Look in that photo book, Tim. First few pages, all me as a kid." Renee forced a smile on to her face as she tossed a photo album to her good friend.
[age 6]
"Momma, where do foxies go when they die?" a bright-eyed toddler asked, clutching her grey and orange fox toys in each hand.
A sharp look was returned to her. The tension began to grow between them and Renee attempted to fix her mistake. She was only six, and she was not clear on the concept of death. She embraced the natural occurences in life, although she was unable to understand them all.
"Don't ask questions like that, Renee. You're too young to be thinking about that." Mrs. Anderson patted her daughter's shoulder.
"Mommy, Daddy and Lillith's accident makes me sad..." Renee Looked at a photograph in her locket. "Why did they run away from us, Mommy? Did they go where dead foxies go?"
"Enough, Renee. No more words." Her mother patted young Renee's head. "Go with Roadkill and Foxie. Sleep, baby.."
"Goodnight, Mommy..."
"Goodnight, Baby. I'll see you tomorrow."
As Renee walked to her bedroom, Mrs. Anderson let out a heavy sigh and pulled a picture frame from a cabinet. Tears began to fall down her cheeks as she recalled the day of her divorce. Later that night, she collected a rope from her neighbors and borrowed a low stool.
Renee woke up with chills. 4 a.m., waking up to a noise in her mother's bedroom. The curious girl went to investigate. She ran out of the bedroom before returning. Quickly grabbing a flashlight, she returned back to her position in the hallways, sneaking around to her mother's room.
"Momma, I heard a noise!"
The panic-struck little girl shouted. A shadow of a human figure was cast across the cold room. She felt around for something before touching the cold leg of her mother. Unable to locate the light switch, she grabbed a flashlight and shined it upon her mother's slippers.
"Ah~! Mommy, you learned to fly~ Hm.. I should leave you be. Goodnight, mama, I love you!"
Renee closed the curtains to prevent any light disturbing her mother. She believed that faeries did not lie artificial light, which is why she turned off every light in the house before bed.
"Go to sleep, girl!" A neighbor boy called. Renee huffed and ran to bed.
Around 7 a.m., a loud knocking sound on Renee's door alarmed her greatly. She attempted to scoot away from the door, making very little noise.
"Is anyone in there? Officer Caroll here, come out if you're in there, Sweetie." A rough voice began to whisper through the door.
Renee grabbed her fox plushes and opened the door. She met face to knee with Northyear's top police officer. He looked down pathetically at the underaged scum near his feet.
"Are you here to talk to mommy? She's in her room!" said the young girl, enthusiastically pointing to her mother's room down the hall.
Renee was pushed out of the way. The heavy-built officer pushed the girl to the side and entered the room. Some items fell off shelves, making loud crashing sounds against the floor. Caroll quickly stuffed all of Renee's belongings into a suitcase. Renee was afraid, and her coloured hair was sticking to her tear-stained cheeks. A large hand grasped her arm. She was dragged out of the house and into a car, where she was forcefully removed from the safety of her usual environment into a foster home for those under 10 years of age.
[cut to real-time]
Renee collapsed on her friend's body in a mess of tears. Tim looked down at his friend clinging on to his bare body. He wasn't sure what to do, which led him to cuddling the girl and her stuffed fox. He refused to say a word until Renee's tears stopped, and the crying hushed.
"Do you want to keep these memories locked up, Obituary?" Tim asked.
Renee looked up at him and giggled nervously.
"No."
