Title: Under Caring Wings.
Summary: Just when you think you got friends who truely care, the carpet's pulled right from under your feet, sending you into the unkown.
Disclaimer: sighs sadly No, I dun own any of the characters.
Archive: If you want to, but tell me first.
Auhtor's Note: This is the second chapter, hope you're gonna like it. R&R
Thanks: To Marilyn who beta'ed this chapter for me. You've done an awsome job!
P.S.: This fic was posted before in "Ezra's Littleverse" group and Archive.
A faint squeak filled the house for a moment, sounding like a bomb shattering the creepy sielnce, which seemed to be the house's life-time companion, into pieces. It returned, this time lasting longer as the door was opened slowly in a hopeless attempt not to make any noise, causing two little hearts to beat faster in fear.
Carefully, a chestnut head poked round the -now- open door and the biggest green eyes wandered around the hall, checking it for any signs of the boogieman. Finding none, the boy soundlessly exited the room, a frightened pale-blue-eyed girl hot on his heel. Hand in hand, they walked through the semi-dark hall.
The hall was plain with nothing decorating it. When --if-- the sun rays were allowed to light it, they would reveal the sickly grey painting that was used on the walls and the patches of peeling paint, which had uncovered the brown rotting wood. Just taking a glance at the old fabric would tell about how old this house was and clearly state that it was standing on its last leg.
But the young children gave no heed to the poor-painted, plain hall; they've both been here enough to memorize every single detail of the house, and memorize it they did. Pretty well at that. You had to when you got a monster on your tail and needed a place to hide. Mr Sanchez was good enough towards the young Southerner in the start, but one night --the reasons unclear to the five-year-old child-- the giant threw the door open and lashed at him in his sleep. Though Ezra couldn't understand most of the elder Sanchez yelling, he was able to make out some swearing and his mother being called somethings he was used to hear, but never really understood.
That night, Josiah came like a hero and snatched Ezra away from his drunken father. But it was already too late; Standish had to spend four days in bed before he was able to stand without keeling over.
Since then, Ezra had studied the house inch-by-inch trying to find as many proper hideouts as he could. Gone was nice Mr Sanchez, that man who smiled and talked in low, rich voice. For almost four months now, all what Ezra saw of Gerard was him carrying a large bottle of whiskey -which would be shaken in the air in a threat- and yelling, or watching over his slim shoulder as Sanchez chased after him.
Ezra shuddered at the memories, he could never understand why Mr Sanchez was so mad at him nor could get the reasons behind his beatings. The old man was like a wild animal, never knowing when it would strike, his movements unpredicitable.
That was all what he had learned about the elder Sanchez within the five months he had been forced to stay in the creepy house. The young southerner was used to be left behind on one's of the many branches of his family tree doorstep, no matter how weak nor how long the branch was. It didn't even matter if the branch belonged to another tree. He would be left behind.
That was how Ezra ended up here, finding himself once again abandoned under the care of a stranger. New names and new faces, nothing familiar. Always somebody he didn't know, somebody he didn't hear of. 'Who awre they?' He would ask his dear mother before they reach their distination. Never once did she repeat a same answer, always a new answer. New people.
And now here he was, a warm hand in his as he walked down the hallway to get to the stairs with one of the few friends in his life: Hannah Sanchez. Their footsteps barely making a noise, as though they didn't touched the ground, and their breaths hardly could be heard as they took their need of oxygen through their small mouths.
Like a pair of ghosts, that was how they walked. Not making a sound, finding their way through the darkness and using it to their advantage as they hide in the shadows.
"You see him?" Hannah's whispered voice shuttered the silence into pieces causing Ezra to jump slightly. Feeling him startle, she tightened her grip and looked frantically around; trying to find the monster that she knew as her father.
"No," She relaxed at his clipped answer and started to walk again, but nevertheless, she didn't stop searching for Gerard in the dark.
"Ezra?" She called softly, "You think Josie okay? Papa thrown 'im real hard."
"Dun wowwy, Hannah!" He smiled at her in assurance, "I'm suwre he's jus' fine, he's so stwong, jus' wike 'siah."
She giggled and bobbed her head up and down in agreement, "You're right! He's strong, even papa won't be able to hurt 'im."
She suddenly bumped into Ezra as the younger child stopped. Her brow wrinkled in confusion, "Ezra? Why you--" She wasn't able to complete her question, as she looked over Standish's shoulder, letting it hang.
They had reached the stairs.
AN: Thanks for reading guys, reviews are still appreciated. Next chappy's around the corner.
