I was shipped around a lot at a young age. I had no idea what happened to my parents, and no one would tell me. I was certain most of the people I stayed with didn't have a clue either; but Poppy, he knew. He would always tell me it was not important for me to know what happened to them, just that they were dead. I took this to mean that he knew something, and would not tell me. He never did. His dying words to me were simple "She walks"

Who was she? My mother? Only my mother? Was she alive? No. Next after his funeral, right as we stepped away from his grave I was put in a car and sent far away. Someplace much colder. I was put in the care of a woman named Jackie. She claimed to be my aunt, my father's sister. I didn't believe her, we looked nothing alike. She showed me pictures of a handsome young man she claimed was my father. I didn't believe this either, his face was too strange. But I accepted it. I lied and told everyone that this stranger was my aunt, I made them believe that I believed.

I grew to respect Jackie and her quiet ways. She was a well rounded woman but more timid than a doe. I was careful not to ask her about what happened to my parents, I was sure the question would shatter her into a million porcelain pieces. I grew to trust her, and her I. It was the night of my sixteenth birthday that I finally told her that I knew she was not my aunt and that the man in the photos was not my father. I expected her to stick to her lie, defend it until her last breath. Rather she cried, she cried for hours. She confessed the lie had been eating away at her on the inside. She told me the man was her brother who had died without marrying or having children. She was part of the church my parents attended and told me they came to her and asked her to be a god parent over me. This angered me greatly.

"They spoke to you themselves?" I growled.

"Yes, years before they vanished"

"Vanished?"

"You were not the only one who lost them"

She had seen them a year after Poppy had told me they were dead. Was there hope they were still alive? I wanted her to help me look for them but she told me she had to send me away. Now that she had spoken a truth to me I had to be surrendered to the net caretaker. I asked how many there would be, she told me she only knew the next one.

He was a tall man with thin long limbs. He sported a wired beard and snow white hair. His name was Christian, but he asked me to call him Bobbie. I didn't ask why. He had a playful glint in his eye that made me feel safe. There was something about his happy lifestyle in the warm south on his perfect farm with his few servants and barn hands. It was magical, straight from a movie. I asked about his wife and kids. He was a retired priest, his love had died young and never bore children. He told me about her a lot. He spoke of how perfect she was and how he could never love again, yet he never told me her name.

I waited a week before I asked about my parents. He had a very different approach to the question. He would say nothing. Bobbie would go silent and would not speak until the topic was changed. It wasn't for another six months before I asked. I was too happy, living on the farm with no care. This huge bubbling mystery was burning always just beneath the surface. When I asked he did as he did and went quiet. This time I did too. Weeks passed without a single word exchanged between us. Weeks turned to one month. Two months. Three months. I grew comfortable in the silence. I knew it was a cold war, a waiting game. I went about my chores and rode the ponies across his vast property. I became well acquainted with his barn hand Sammy.

One day I walked past Bobbie, like any other day, and he spoke to me. "Come into my office" He said. I continued past him without hearing him. When it clicked in I ran to his office. Finding the door unlocked for the first time.

"Bobbie?" I called. His office was like a library with vaulted ceilings and huge floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the pony paddocks.

"Here" His voice rang. But I could see no sign of him. I stood before a painting of a family where his voice seemed to be coming from.

"Are you in the wall?"

"Yes, but that is important" He assured me. I stared at the painting. It was a woman with a gentle smile and pointed chin, a man with friendly eyes and the face of an old friend, and a baby in their arms wrapped in a pink blanket.

"Is this me?" I asked.

"I cannot answer that"

"What CAN you tell me?"

"Behind the painting is a gift for you" He said. I took the painting off the wall and tucked into the back of the frame was a picture, the same as the painting, but this was real. In an instant I knew it was my father and my mother. His face was not strange at all, it was welcoming and safe. I turned the picture over and it was dated. It was dated, I thought about it. I would have been six when the picture was taken, not an infant.

"I have a sister?" I asked nervously.

"It is an old photo"

"These are my parents, but that is not me" I said sternly. I knew what I knew.

"There will be a car waiting for you out front" He said. I stared at the blank wall.

"You're sending me away?"

"You know how this works, you're a big girl now"

I did know. I knew as soon as something about my parents or past was revealed I was sent away to a new caretaker. I did not say goodbye to him. I gathered my things and tucked the photograph into my bra. I knew it would be safest there. I took my bags out to the front steps and sat, waiting. Sammy found me and sat with me.

"Going on a trip?" He asked

"I'm leaving"

"Where to?"

"I don't know"

"Will you be back?"

"I doubt it"

"Ever?"

"Nope"

A black car with tinted windows pulled up. The driver stepped out and took my bag. After putting it in the trunk he opened the back door for me. I gave Sammy a little wave and stepped into the car. I watched Sammy vanish behind the car. He looked hurt, more hurt than I was. I would miss him and the ponies. I didn't try and hope for anything nice at the new place. I didn't need hopes.

"Where are we going?" I asked playfully. I knew I wouldn't get a straight answer.

"You'll see when we get there" He answered.

"Are you my caretaker?" I asked

"No, I'm just the dri-"

An explosion of fire and dust sent the driver flying through the windshield. I was slammed into the back of his seat and then the car began to roll and tumble. It seemed to be twisting and compressing. It was rolling into a steep ditch. My was caught under a seat and then locked into place. As the car hit flat ground it jerked me, breaking my arm.

I screamed. I screamed for so long that I lost my voice. I cried too, until no tears came. I was there until the pain became cold and tingly. The sun went down and still I lay trapped in a cage of shredded leather and twisted steel.

It was close to midnight when I heard the trunk open. I couldn't tell where it was but the sound was a memory. The backseat budged and shook. A woman busted it down and stared at me. She seemed shocked to find me alive.

"I'm here to get you out" She said softly. She climbed into the space where I was sitting.

"My arm is stuck" I whimpered "I think its broken"

She moved into the front passenger seat, which was the ceiling. And felt around under the seat. I could feel her touching my skin, it was a light pressure at first. She unwrapped some wires and then tightened her grip on my wrist. I screamed as she pushed it hard, freeing it from the metal it had been clamped under. I held my arm and waited for her. But she was gone. I climbed into the passenger seat and then out through the hole where the door once was. She was gone, leaving nothing but a faint path up the steep embankment. She had gotten me out, as promised, and vanished. It took me a few hours to climb back up the ditch. When I reached the road the sun was rising.

I saw the driver. He was laying in the middle of the road where he had been thrown. I knelt down at his side and pushed on his shoulder. He didn't move. I held my finger on his jugular vein and it made no sound. He was dead and had been for some time. I sat with his dead body for a while. No cars passed, the road seemed abandoned. How did the woman find me? Why did she leave me?

I walked back towards the farm. I guess I was still dazed as I walked up his long driveway, that would be why I didn't see the smoke. I didn't smell the smoke until it hit me like a train. I ran as close as I could before the heat was too much. The entire estate was engulfed in flames. I ran to the barn next and found the ponies dead in their stalls. Shot.

I heard the click of a handgun and closed my eyes. I was sure I was dead. They had tried to kill me once and failed. This time I was going to be dead.

"Hey?" He said. I turned to see Sammy. He had been shot in the shoulder.

"What happened?!" I demanded. Before he could answer there was a fury of gunfire hitting the barn. Sammy tackled me to the ground sending pain through my arm again. He squirmed, laying over top of me for protection. It got quiet.

"Buzz is in the orchard" He said hurrying me into a stall "Find him"

"What about you?" I asked franticly as he covered me up with straw. He knelt down and took my chin in his hand.

"You have always been the apple of my eye, from the first day you set foot on this ranch" He said, quickly pressing his lips to mine. It was a moment where time both stopped and leapt forward "If you get out of here, it doesn't matter what happens to me"

He closed the stall and before I could go after him I heard the barn doors open up. I was frozen where I lay. It sounded like three or four people entered. Their steps echoed on the cement floor.

"Where is the girl?" A man demanded.

"She left this morning"

"You've not seen her since?"

"No, I swear" Sammy begged "Let me go please, don't kill me"

There was a single shot. A body dropped. The barn doors were closed.

"Burn it!" A woman shouted. I shot through the stall door and dropped to Sammy's side. It was a clean headshot. His eyes were closed, he looked peaceful. I felt a twist in my gut. I had never even looked his way unless it was for the ponies. Suddenly the little things he had done, the flowers in Gumdrops hair, the winks and smiles, the quirky half-smile; it was all for love. It made me sick that I had not seen it. I tired the barn doors. They had been blocked by something outside. I tried the side door, it too had been blocked. The fire had already been started, from multiple spots. I could see the smoke creeping through the cracks of the wall. I climbed into the hay loft and looked down at the ground from the loft. The fire was starting to climb the walls, releasing black smoke that made my lungs burn.

I counted...one...two...I leapt from the loft. I hit the ground and rolled backwards. My ankles were instantly alive with electricity. I forced myself to stand, to run towards the orchard. I could hear them behind me.

As soon as I got to the orchard I began to whistle. My arm was numb to the broken bone. I turned to glance back at the estate. The gang of men and women were headed my way. I found Buzz in a small clearing in the orchard. He was frozen, watching the fire. He was already saddled and ready to go. I mounted him and before he could fight I had him galloping toward the neighboring corn fields.

By the next morning I was sure I had lost my attackers. But I was beaten and weak. I found a small farm with a stable where one horse was out in the paddock. Unsaddling Buzz was a chore but hearing the sigh he gave when the saddle slid off him was worth it. I opened the paddock and let him in. He didn't greet the horse with any hostility and I knew he would be safe there.

I used a roadside phone to call an ambulance. They were there within minutes. The trip was foggy for me, they put me on a drip right away. Hooked a tube into my arm. I don't remember being admitted. I don't even remember what the EMT guys looked like.

When I woke up the nurses told me I had lost three days. My left arm was broken in two places. My left ankle was badly bruised from the jump. They asked about my family. I told them I had none. They asked my name, I told them I didn't have one. They asked where I was staying, where I was attending school. Again I answered that I had no home or school. I told them I was staying with a god parent by the name of Christian, or Bobbie, and was being sent to another. They didn't believe me. After taking blood tests and finger prints they finally came to the right conclusion. I was a ghost. I did not exist in any database, no birth certificate could be found either.

"Do you know about a fire that happened a few miles from where you were found?" A nurse asked.

"I lived there for almost a year"

"Who took care of you?"

"Bobbie"

"We contacted the police, they said the property was registered to a Sam Gordon"

"Oh..."

Police came and went, they asked more questions and they got the same answers. On the sixth night I could walk without crutches but it was still painful. I was looking out the window when a man entered my room. I had failed to tell the police there were people looking for me. I knew if I kept the police out of it I had a better chance of survival. He wore a black robe like an old time priest. His hair was bleached white. His eyes caught mine and made a chill race down my spine. A scar curved around the outside of his right eye, but his eyes themselves were a cloudy blue.

"I am a messenger of God" He said

"What do you want?" I asked.

He took my hand and dragged me along behind him. I dug my heels into the floor and hit him in the side. He buckled but twisted my cast as he crumbled. I tried to scream but he clamped his hand over my mouth. He was holding a small wooden club in his sleeve. He showed it, threatening to use it. I shook my head until he hesitantly let go of my mouth.

"Don't hit me, please" I mumbled. He led me to a wheelchair and had me sit in it. He wheeled me into an elevator and then out to the parking lot. There was a car waiting. I felt my skin grow hot and a cold sweat run down the back of my neck.

"No!" I begged "Don't make me go in there!"

"I am the messenger of God" He expressionlessly, giving me a hard shove and forcing me into the car. I fought back tears and my body began to shake. Not until the car stopped was the steel trap opened. I scrambled out onto the ground and shivered. I looked up to see him looking down at me with disgust. He helped me to my feet and led me into a church through a backdoor. Its ceilings were easily two stories high. Massive stained glass windows depicted holy figures. The sun was rising, and as it did the windows glowed. They cast colored rays upon the stone floors. I paused to take it in, it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

He tugged me along to a plain stone hall which led to a basement like room. It was dark with no windows, only lanterns with candles lit the cold dungeon room. It held a wide cot and a small room connected to it held a shower and toilet. There was no shower curtain, only a shower head and a drain in the floor.

After he had lit all the candles he unfolded a modern fold-able chair and waved at it, offering it to me. Beside it was an old wooden table. He sat on an old wooden chair.

"Who are you?" I asked

"I am the messenger of God" He said

"Why did you bring me here?" I asked

"I am the messenger of God" He replied

"Can't you say anything else?!" I shouted

"I am the messenger of God" He said and stood. He opened a wooden box and grabbed a half a loaf of bread. He dropped it on the table in front of me and pointed at the cot. He said not a word, and left. Before I could follow him he had locked the heavy wooden entrance door.

Thanks to Bobbie I was used to silence. I ate the bread and went to sleep on the cot. Dreams came to me that night for the first time in many months. I was with Jackie and Bobbie. Sam was on his knees in front of a dark figure. Jackie and Bobbie were watching like it were a movie. The dark figure shot Sammy, the bullet exploding into flames as it exited the back of his skull. The ponies were there, burning. They were all burning, screaming, crying. I awoke screaming and kicking. The messenger sat at my side with a glass of water. He held it out to me before I had fully come to. I only saw the dark figure of his hand. I swatted the glass from his hand. I started hitting him, kicking him; I don't know why. He grabbed hold of me and held me down until I stopped. I began to cry. I just wanted things back to normal, as normal as things were. Where I would move from house to house never to see any one person twice. Never having to think of them as hurt.

As I cried I realized he was crying on my shoulder, as I was on his.

"Why does everyone die?" I asked

"Because God is cruel" He answered.

For the first time I lay in another's arms and felt safe. I slept the rest of the night without a single dream or nightmare. As morning came I found the man still holding me. I slipped free and he continued to sleep. I found a rag in the bathroom and mopped up the water I had sent flying. I picked up the bits of glass and left them on the table in the largest piece.

"Hey" He said, startling me. I turned to face him and cut myself on a piece of the cup. He took my shoulders and changed places with me. Sitting me down on the bed. He then went about finishing what I had started. When he was finished he knelt in front of me with a bandage he'd fetched from the bathroom. Where he had found it I had no idea.

"I'm sorry" he apologized. He bandaged my hand and smoothed out the air bubbles in the plaster.

"Who are you?"

"I'm a ghost"

"I am too, but what is your name?"

"Sarah" He said softly. I smiled at the girls name, but it suited him. Although he was strong his voice was soft and meek.

"Yours?" he asked

"Belle"

He left me to take a long shower. I listened to the water run. When it went off I waited a few minutes before venturing into the bathroom. He was drying off when I knocked. He covered himself quickly.

"Could I use the toilet?" I asked, looking away.

"Of course" he said, leaving the bathroom quickly. I finished quickly, and washed up. He came back in when he heard the water. His towel was around his waist and I could see twisting scars over his back and arms. It went all the way down the backs of his legs. He noticed and grabbed for the second towel. I took his hand before he reached it. I traced a scar from his wrist to his shoulder.

"What are these from?" I asked.

"They're a part of me"

"Why?"

"To make up for my sins" He said, pulling his arm away. I thought for a moment, weather to ask or not. His eyes were almost darkening. I nodded and stepped out of the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I noticed the candles were out but there was light. He hadn't closed the entrance door.

I went up the stairs and out into the hall. I found my way hearing a man speaking. I walked in on a choir practicing. A priest was watching at the sidelines, speaking to a woman. He noticed me and panic set in instantly. The woman followed and I turned around. Sarah was standing in the door.

"This is her?" The priest asked. I spun again.

"Yes" Sarah nodded.

"Do not be afraid" The woman said. Her face was hard like stone, her eyes were dull gray with no light in them.

"What is your name, dear?" The priest asked.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"My name is Christian Blue, I'm the priest of this church"

"Did you have me kidnapped from the hospital?" I hissed. Slowly the man began to nod. He wore a blue robe, much like Sarah's but with gold and silver trim. He also wore a decorative cloth that hung over his shoulders.

"You know my name" I told him, hoping he would agree. But he shook his head.

"We haven't seen you since you were just a toddler" The woman said. I stared at her.

"You've met me before?" I asked.

"At your seconded birthday" She nodded "Everyone was there. Louis Gold, Megan Kirkman, Jackie Valentine, Robb-"

"Bobbie" I corrected her instantly. She nodded, going quiet "You're parent's named you Anne-Belle"

"Anne-Belle" I said, the words were sour in my mouth. I had been called Belle since I could remember. I wanted to laugh at her, tell her Jackie had tried to lie to me before too. But then it hit me, she knew my past caretakers. She had met them before.

"Bobbie's gone" I told her. She nodded.

"The others too, I'm afraid" She said.

"You're my new caretaker?"

"Yes, you never arrived. I found out two days ago that my driver was found on an abandoned road. His car in a ditch"

"Tragic" The priest muttered.

"We had our congregation keep an ear out for any girls your age turning up with no name" She explained "Nancy, a head nurse at the hospital, told me about you"

"Who's trying to kill me?" I asked. I felt Sarah step to my side, his robe brushing my arm. Christian and the woman exchanged worried glances.

"We don't know anymore" Christian finally admitted.

"But you did, at some point?"

"When you were younger there was a man, Steven Yeug. He was a historian and a bit of a madman"

"A historian?"

"He thought the church was hiding your birth, and your mothers, to keep a treasure hidden" Christian moved and the woman followed. I followed as well, he led us to his office when the choir had gotten loud "He died in the fire that destroyed your home, the fire he set"

"Bobbie's farm was set on fire" I commented. The woman nodded.

"We're afraid it might be someone he knew or told" She said

"Wait...why am I a ghost?" I asked. This made the priest smile.

"You have the blood of an Angel" He explained "In olden times Angels were warriors raised by the church to defend against witches and anti-christ"

"And now?"

"They are a guarded bloodline, blessed by God himself"

"I don't feel very blessed" I said grimly.

"Not until your eighteenth birthday will you understand, truly, why you must live outside of society" The woman assured me "Until then you must be protected by your own guardian angels"

"So you're sending me away to another caretaker?" I asked "That didn't work so well last time"

"We've decided to do something you're parent's might not be so pleased with..." Christian started to explain, but I cut him off, digging my hand into my shirt and bra. He watched me pull the picture free and I unfolded it. I handed it to him, furiously tapping the child in their arms.

"Those are my parent's right?" I said "That is not me"

"Of course it is!" The priest exclaimed, almost like the notion was an insult to him personally.

"It's dated" I said as he took the photo.

"She couldn't have" The priest muttered.

"Father Blue" The woman said catching his attention and gesturing it towards me "Perhaps our guest should be taken care of first?"

"Of course, Karen, would you set up her vehicle?" He asked. Karen put her hand on my shoulder to lead me away. I held my hand out to Christian Blue. He shook my hand and I kept it out.

"My photograph?" I said sternly. Reluctantly he handed it over. His brow furrowed with confusion. Karen led me back to Sarah's quarters with Sarah in tow. She told me to wait, that it shouldn't be long before she would come to collect me. I sat on the cot. Sarah sat down on the old wooden chair.

"I don't want to leave again" I said. Sarah said nothing. I glanced at him, he was collecting things from around the room.

"Sarah?"

"I am to accompany you, to keep you safe" He said. I smiled. He didn't look like much help in the defense department, but not having to leave everything I now knew made me feel better. As he moved I caught a glimpse of his scars again. I wondered about them, what sins this fragile man could possibly have committed.

I didn't see Father Christian Blue again, I was ushered out to the car by Karen. Sarah had a small cloth bag. I had the clothes on my back, Karen gave me a twenty dollar bill before the car pulled away. I started to shake. I didn't want to be in the metal trap, it gained speed quickly. Sarah's fingers crept over mine and I took a deep breath.

The drive took three days. The driver never spoke, he pulled over to the side of the road and slept. Sarah would put his cloth bag behind his head and sleep, he let me sleep with my head in his lap. It was an uncomfortable three days for our spines.

The car pulled off the highway and into a small town surrounded by farmland. This made me uneasy, it reminded me a lot of Bobbie's estate. But the house we came to in the end was smaller than Bobbie's barn. The driver got out and opened the door for me, Sarah slid out my door as well. The driver then got back into his car and drove away.

"This is...different" He said softly

"Don't worry" I grumbled "We'll be gone in a few months"

"Oh?" He said after me as I walked up the dirt path to the hut of a house. I knocked on the door and waited. He stepped past me and took a key from his pocket. He unlocked the door and walked inside. I followed.

"Sarah?" I asked "Do you live here?"

"We do now, it was given to the church by a member after he passed away" Sarah looked like he felt very odd in the house "He didn't have any family"

"I'm sure he's happy the place will be used"

"He wanted it torn down" Sarah said with a shake of his head "The church didn't have the funds"

The building needed work; there were new cots though, and an old bed that needed new sheets. The rest of the house was bare. The kitchen had no stove or fridge. Just a breadbox and a toaster oven. I took the smaller of the rooms, even though Sarah insisted he take it. I liked how cozy it was, it had shelves built into the wall over the cot.

In the weeks to come I learned how to get down town. The shops were all locally run, and everything was locally made. It was cute, the whole community was tight knit. But I did notice something, the entire town showed up for church on Sundays. I had never gone before but Sarah made it clear to me it was a new tradition I had to follow. I stuck close to Sarah, people seemed to know him and kept their distance. He made no attempt to speak with anyone.

The priest singled us out, welcoming me to the community and welcoming their "old friend" home. Still I wonder what he did that was sinful, a town filled with church goers called him an old friend. Whatever he did could not have been so bad, could it?

I got a job at the only gas station in town. It paid enough to buy groceries. Winter came early and the snow came heavy. Sarah would shovel and the church sent us home with winter coats. I had always been taken care of, but having the coats donated felt...wrong. I wanted to send them back but we needed them.

"Find a way to pay it back" Sarah shrugged.

"We can't afford that" I hissed "Your job doesn't even pay"

"It does not always have to be money" He replied calmly, but the look on his face let me know he was offended. He would help out at the church and they would pay him in baked goods or other objects. We lived fairly cheap, the house taken care of by the church. There was no gas or electricity used. The electricity was hooked up but Sarah preferred candles. I agreed with him, they made the place homey. Water was the only utility I had to worry about. It was strange how easily I adapted to working and paying bills. I didn't have to worry about too much.

Christmas was an odd time of year. I bought a frame for myself from the odds and ends store. I made a copy of my picture and put it in the frame. Sarah noticed it hanging beside the little evergreen he had brought home, but he said nothing. I decorated the tree with shredded newspaper I colored red and blue with the chruch's crayons. Sarah brought home an old star from the chruch basement. It was metal and dusty but after a quick shine it looked almost new.

I'd sit in the living room on the floor curled up in my coat with a book from the town library. Sarah liked to sit beside the tree and rest his eyes. He would lay his head back against the wall and just close his eyes. I would get us both a glass of water and he would sit there still, though whenever I came near him he would open them. I either never caught him sleeping, or he really just rested his eyes.

We would eat sandwiches all the time, during the winter when Sarah got an old filing cabinet we would have lettuce and cheese. The filing cabinet was kept outside the back door which was right off the kitchen. It kept the food cold and with a little key it kept animals out.

"Tomorrow is Christmas eve" Sarah said.

"Is there something going on at the chruch?"

"Just in the morning"

"Is it going to be a potluck? Because we only have a can of beans left"

"Yes" He nodded. Ending that topic "Did you ever have any Christmas traditions?"

"We put up a tree and even got a star" I pointed out "We might even get lucky and bring some leftovers home from the potluck, have some of Beth's carrot stew? That would be good for a Christmas dinner"

"But is anything missing?" He asked. I closed my book and looked across the room at him.

"I never realized that I had been sent from person to person and they were all pretty well off. Not all of them were as wealthy as Bobbie, but they all had extra to decorate their homes and fill stockings and have huge turkey dinners" I told him "But all those things, the gifts, I don't get to keep them. We don't know how long we'll be here before I get moved again. Maybe I'll get to pack, maybe we'll leave in a hurry"

"When did you move the first time?"

"The first time I remember is when I was four or five"

"Do you remember them?"

"My parents?" I asked. He nodded "Sometimes I would think I did. Seeing his picture, his face only looks familiar. It doesn't look like how I've imagined him. But my mother, that's her. I know that for sure. I wonder how old my sister would be"

"You don't have a sister"

"There is more proof that I do, than I don't" I snapped. He went quiet and I went back to my book. It was about a young boy who fought dragons with his band of misfit friends. I had finished three books, and there were dozens left in the series.

"She would be nine" He said out of the blue. I looked up to see him looking at their photograph. I smiled. I wondered if she was with them still, I wondered if she was running from the same people I was.