Chapter Two-

She couldn't reach the damn gun. It was so high up above she shelves which, to her inconvience, were high above the refridgerator. Mathilda had already tried to do her Twozzletoe, which is what she called it when she threw herself against one wall in order to slightly bounce off of the wall and grab onto something in the opposite direction. It wasn't as complicated as it sounded. The only problem was, the ceiling was too low. She hit her head every time that she tried to climb up on top of the refridgerator or Twozzletoe. So instead, she did a Beamleon. Beam-leon. She had come up with these unique, peculiar names during her tons of free time at the orphanage. The beam leon was the trick that Leon--key word in the phrase--had taught her to do the week before he died. Rebounding off of a wall and up onto a beam in the ceiling. She tried it but no matter how hard that she rebounded, she couldn't reach the beam that was so far above her. It was at least fifteen feet easy above the ground. So Mathilda didn't have a gun. She would have to take the large butcher knife that Mrs. Fiengull used for God-knows-what. After searching desperately for the could-be weapon for what seemed like hours, Mathilda finally found it hidden under the stove. Why the HELL was it under the stove? Did she cook with this butcher knife? And if so, did she keep it under the stove the whole time--on the floor! That was so disgusting. Mathilda had been eating floor food for the past year. She probably had some rare fatal disease contracted by eating floor food. This was so gross. Not big gross but disgusting gross. Or maybe she could call it big disgusting, because really and truly that is what it was. Just like Mrs. Fiengull.

Mathilda caught herself. Her mind had been wandering, and she was wasting time. She had to find Tom and Gaston before they could find her. And she had to kill them, come Hell or highwater. She had a switchblade and a butcher knife, neither of which could stand up against a gun. Therefore, Mathilda had to be sneaky. She had to be quick, swift, just like her rolemodel, the late Leon. She had to use her agility and wit to defeat these killers who wanted her for some unearthly reason and would stop at nothing to get her. She had to kill them.

No women. No children. Well, she suddenly couldn't kill them, because they fit the former. Mathilda laughed at her on joke, then turned and walked into the shadows that led from the kitchen to the dark corridor that led to the front door and the staircase that led up to where the children had once slept in peace--that was if you considered Mrs. Fiengull, aka Satan Queen, peaceful--and now where two killers waited for Mathilda.

No women. No children.

They had killed a woman.

And several children.

And now Tom and Gaston would pay for their evil doings.

Meet Mathilda: the cleaner.

Tom glanced out the window. He had to step over several bloody bodies, some of which were still breathing. He was used to this. He killed all the time. Even children. He knew how to go home and not even think about it. He had no remorse. It was his job. It's how he kept a house over his head and food and his mouth. It's how he kept his fingernails perfectly manicured and his hair perfectly trimmed. He had no bumps on his face. No scars. Medicine had gotten rid of it, of the stuff he hated that filtered his body. Yes, Tom lived the life. The perfect life.

Gaston, on the other hand, had just gotten into the mob lifestyle. He wasn't used to killing. He was forced to. He would much rather be the mean guy that did the rough talking, not the guy that suffered the little children. At night, Gaston couldn't sleep. He would stay up, rolling over and over, imagining those little kids in his mind, those poor women, thouse helpless men, those who had begged, those who hadn't even known what was coming at them from a mile away. Yes, Gaston was covered in guilt. Better yet, he was soaked in it.

Gaston stood in the doorway, looking out into the hallway to make sure he didn't see the liittle girl coming. He had heard she was quick. He heard that she was skilled in the occupation of cleaning. He knew that, if he wasn't careful, he would be taken out by her within a few minutes. She was almost fourteen. She could handle herself. Although she was only around 5'5'', she had incredible muscles. She looked like she could take out a man. She had obviously been practicing. What he didn't know was of the rage built up inside her. He didn't know that she was hateful towards all killers like he, because of the death of her brother, her Leon, and the little children she had lived with for over a year. Yes, she was furious, and he didn't know this. He also didn't know that, at that very moment, his partner, Tom, toppled over out of the window after being stabbed in the stomach by something in a nearbye tree. He didn't know that, as he stood there, out in the hall, a girl about 5'5'' was climbing in through the window and creeping towards him like a cat, not making the least bit of noise. "Tom," he said. "I don't see her. I think we should go look outside." There was no answer. Gaston sighed and repeated himself "Don't cha think we should go outside, Tom?" Still, no answer. Finally, he turned around. He never got to find out if they were going outside to check.

Mathilda stood outside, cleaing the guns that she had taken off of the mobsters. Two rifles, three shotguns, two pistols, several cases of bullets. a long range rifle, and several miscellaneous weapons. She also found several daggers and knives, along with a few grenades...

Grenades...

"This...is for...Mathilda..."

The explosion...

Mathilda began to sob, thinking of Leon, who she had loved so dearly. He gave up his life for her. For her vengence. Clutching one of the five grenades in her hand, she pulled the trigger and threw it into a window of the children's home, if that's what you could have called that terror house. She ran out to the trees where she had taken Toad and Hallie, and grabbed their hands and ran. They had to get away, and leave no sign of their past. In America, in the world, Mathilda, Hallie, and Toad no longer exhisted. They had died in the explosion that had torn the children's home to pieces.

Later, when investigators, perimedics, firefighters, and locals arrived, several onlookers would wonder, "Who would do such a thing to the little children?"

Luckily, firefighters were able to put out the flames before they spread. They managed to save two of the children's lifeless bodies. When they were examined by a mortician, he found that they had died before the explosion, from a gunshot wound.

Mathilda's plan partly worked, but partly didn't. She wanted it to look like all of the children had been murdered at one time. She wanted to fire to blaze the whole house down. Investigators managed to match DNA with certain body parts they found in the remains. They never found Mathilda, Hallie, or Toad.

But that was okay.

Because now Mathilda had some other business to take care of.

She had to find out who caused all of this and she wanted to kill him.

Or her...