This chapter was a struggle...TW for an un-alive attempt scene. Told ya this was gonna get dark.
Slanting rays of the setting sun gave an auburn hue to grey clouds as the nine-year-old dragged her feet along the sidewalk, walking behind her parents in their journey towards the next house in their field service. Inside the house, her scars went unhidden. Outside in public with her parents, makeup masked the belt lacerations from days prior under the assumption that wishing her injuries were concealed could raise her parents' suspicion of magic.
"Are we done yet?" her Rose bracelet groaned. They'd been knocking on people's doors preaching God's Kingdom since eleven that morning to no avail.
"Not yet; just one more house." Tootie whispered back, apparently loud enough for her mother to turn around as Tootie cowered slightly under her mother's wary gaze.
Stopping at the base of the house's driveway, Nicky motioned for Tootie to approach the front door of a single-family home with Jim's authoritative stance leaving Tootie no chance of objection. After having at least seven different doors slammed in her face, guess one more couldn't hurt.
Every step closer to the white sunburst door churned bile in her empty stomach, clutching her bible and watchtower brochure to her chest. Fighting mind over the matter when her jello legs treaded onto the house's front porch, announcing her arrival with two timid knocks.
"You got this." she heard Rose's encouragement, taking a quick glance at the teal bracelet on her left wrist.
This entire field service experience was just as much torture for Rose as it was for Tootie. Regardless, Rose had been Tootie's only support boost, something hardly present before the days of being a godchild. So much that Tootie returned a tiny grin. "…thank you."
Instead of an adult appearing when the front door unbolted, Tootie saw another kid. A taller boy of whom she didn't recognize, possibly in middle school. His bright-auburn hair was styled in a bowl shape, freckles lined his ivory skin with black rims framing purple eyes. Buckteeth that reminded her of Timmy's, except more rectangular. Striped short-sleeve of turquoise and white hung over dark-green denim where a dark-teal chain dangled to one side, paired with matching white and turquoise sneakers.
"…can I help you?" the boy inquired with a polite tone compared to the others that even bothered to answer their door.
"Um…hi. M-My name is Dorothy." Tootie introduced herself with a shy wave.
"I'm Dwight." he returned a coy grin. "Um…nice to meet you."
"You too." Knowing she needed to get straight to the point, Tootie held out her watchtower for Dwight's intrigue. "I-I have great news about God's promise for the earth…would you like to hear about it?"
"God's promise?" Dwight gave her a puzzled brow. "What's that?"
"The Kingdom of Heaven." Tootie began her rehearsed explanation. "A Kingdom where there will be no more sickness, shortage of food, no sorrow or death, and no more pain-"
"Sorry, kid." A man, the copy to Dwight's paste just with longer and sleeker hair, approached from behind Dwight, moving him out of the way as if to protect him. His tone cordial in contrast to his tempered frown. "Not interested in your propaganda."
"It's not propaganda." Nicky stepped in, on standby for any challengers she knew her daughter wasn't fully equipped to handle. "Armageddon will come and destroy the earth and all of its inhabitants, but God will spare the souls of those who know Him!"
"Well, according to 'you people,' the world was supposed to end six different times, even as recent as the year 2000, but here we all are!" the man assumed to be Dwight's father pointed out.
"Matthew 24:36 tells us we do not know the exact time for the end of humanity." Nicky attempted to justify.
"Or even if it'll end at all." Dwight's father countered, setting a hand on his cocked hip. "As far as I see it, you're all just crazy."
"Now you listen here!" It was Jim's turn to step in as Tootie slouched her shoulders, having low tolerance for any disrespect towards his wife. "The bible clearly tells us that the war of Armageddon draws near-"
"Can't you see we're not interested in your little fairytales?!" another man's higher-pitched voice interrupted as he stood beside Dwight's father, slimmer with his brunette hair short and spikey.
Nicky folded her arms. "The end of mankind is no fairytale."
"It is in this household!" the man argued back, causing Dwight to squint in fear that things would escalate farther than necessary. "Now leave, before we call the police for trespassing!"
"Sir, with all due respect-"
"You heard my husband." Dwight's father defended. "Leave."
"Husband?!" Jim gawked before he scoffed. "Oh, you really need salvation away from Satan!"
Much offense was taken from the brunette who looked Jim up and down in disgust. "Excuse the hell outta you-"
"You all have a great rest of your day." Dwight's father chose peace instead of violence, moving his son and husband further into the house as he calmly shut the door. Leaving Tootie now questioning what she knew was real…and what truly was.
The Elders preached to the congregation time and time again about the imminence of Armageddon, the war of humankind. The time draws near for God's return to the earth, and all those who are not saved shall perish. That was the whole point of going door-to-door in field ministry, to save lost souls before the inevitable. Giving it more thought, there had been numerous predictions of the world's end. Predictions of an alleged day of reckoning around the corner that now felt farther away…
Seeing the confliction in Tootie's expression, Nicky came from behind to place a firm hand to her shoulder. "Do not let their words deter you." she reminded, little intent to comfort. "It is our duty to save all the lost souls by preaching the good news in all the earth-"
"Who wants to be saved from something they don't think is real?!" Tootie's frustration couldn't help but express, an outburst that would be her downfall when her left arm was yanked almost out of her socket, facing his reprimanding glare.
"You will not be disobedient if you want to be Jehovah's friend!" Jim pointed a firm finger at Tootie, ignorant to his wife's cringe.
As Rose furrowed her brow, Tootie's braces bit down on her bottom lip to keep from screaming.
Orange and magenta hues settled into indigoes and blues as the evening sun descended into the horizon. Rubbing her pulsing left arm, purple eyes held contempt for the redhaired man leading his household towards their suburban home. Contempt that was once crippling fear, fixed in her glare.
"It's okay to discipline children but it's never okay to hit them. Especially when it hurts them." Her 4th grade teacher's words looped the entire walk from Dwight's house. Maybe three weeks ago, she'd never take those words to heart.
For as long as she could remember, yelling and belts and switches was discipline. That always went double for Vicky. It was confusing because their father did not start out this way. Sure, he'd yell at them when they were truly disobedient, but never did he hit them. Then he joined a congregation where, according to the elders and the September '73 edition of The Watchtower, Corporal punishment shows real love on the part of a parent to do whatever he can to correct his child, including spanking him.
Almost all of Proverbs condones 'disciplining' children, because without discipline, there is no love for the child. When she was old enough to understand, Vicky would tell her how the other men in the congregation would criticize Jim for not 'disciplining' his children. When they'd first joined the congregation, they were not as 'submissive' and closed-mouthed as the other children. Because of this, majority of the backlash fell on Jim. As the head of the household, he must command respect, and if he loved his children, he would not spare the rod and spoil them. Jim essentially took this mentality and ran…he was never the same since.
Tootie hadn't considered the true effects of Jim's discipline when Vicky was living with them. Mostly because Vicky was the main target. While Tootie was more subservient, Vicky was entering a 'rebellious' stage and was highly resistant to Jim's tightening leash. Tootie had the misfortune of witnessing most of Vicky's 'discipline,' coerced by their mother not to shield her eyes from Vicky's pain and suffering. Vicky was the 'example' of the consequences to disobedience. Then, Vicky was disfellowshipped, and somehow…Tootie became the 'example.' Even when she did her best to abide by the rules…
"…Tootie?"
Her teal bracelet stole her from her thoughts, peering down at teal eyes frowned in concern. "…you okay?"
No, she wasn't. Not with her mind and heart in knots.
Realizing they were not just a couple feet or so from their front driveway, Tootie winced when she lifted her left arm, holding Rose close enough so that only Rose could hear. "Whatever happens, don't interfere." she whispered, receiving a puzzled gaze in return.
"I'm not sure I follow…" Rose grew uneasy as Tootie followed her parents to the front door.
"Just don't use magic." Tootie whispered again, entering the house after her mother. Shutting the door to the outside world…sealing her fate.
"Go study your bible, Dorothy." Jim instructed with his back turned, facing the living room. He was about to make his way to his office to finish some blueprints on an upcoming house project when he stopped mid-step, not hearing footsteps up the stairs after he'd given an order. He looked over his shoulder seeing Tootie standing contemplatively by the foot of the stairs, not doing as she'd been told. "What did I tell you!?"
"Jim, stay calm…" Nicky attempted to keep the peace, though her efforts were in vain when Jim approached Tootie for a disciplinal backhand to her face.
"Go study your bible! And do not make me ask you again!"
"It's okay to discipline children but it's never okay to hit them. Especially when it hurts them."
Tootie's eyes glossed, the burn in her cheek making it difficult to make eye contact with the man towering over her. Crying would make him angrier and screaming would get her nowhere. Instead, using her might to force her tears back, her voice cracked when the very thing she'd contemplated whimpered past her lips "…d-do you love me?"
"…what?" Jim was taken aback by this question, his tone the softest it'd been in years.
"…do you love me?" she whimpered again, unable to stop a tear from trickling "…b-because if you loved me…you wouldn't hurt me."
He paused, his defenses buckling under the weight of her words. The rage in turquoise eyes smothered in strife. Through tears fogging her glasses, Tootie caught a glimpse of the man from happier times, before they surrendered their lives to Jehovah. She caught a glimpse of the man who used to tuck her in at night, the man who would kiss her boo-boos when she fell. The man who used to tell and show her every day how much he loved her…her father.
And in a split second, her father disappeared from eyes creased in frustration. "You don't want to listen?! Fine!" He snapped, smacking her again, this time sending her tumbling to the floor. Making his wife and the teal bracelet cringe from the sheer anger in his eyes. "This is what happens when you don't listen!"
Mustering the will, Tootie pushed herself to her knees. The burn in her face stung more tears in her eyes, clamping them to keep them from falling. Although a small part of her still questioned if Jehovah ever heard her prayers, if He didn't hear her any other time, surely, he'd hear her in her moment of weakness, at her most vulnerable. It was clear to her now…this man was not her father. Jehovah had to see that! There had to be something He can do to bring her father back!
Seeing no other option, Tootie lowered her chin, and through her tears, her hushed voice spoke "…o-our Father in the heavens…let…l-let your n-name be sanctified…"
"I'm not playing with you, Dorothy!" Unfazed, Jim jerked her by the arm to her feet. Yet Tootie continued to speak one-on-one with her Holy Father.
"Let your K-Kingdom come…l-let your will take place…as in heaven-" a shoe to her face knocked her back to the hard tile. Excruciating pain surging, blood pooled in her mouth. She kept praying "…a…a-also…o-on earth…"
"You'd be wise not to test me further!"
"…g-give us…t-today our…o-our bread…f…for this day-"
A foot to her gut knocked the wind from her lungs. This failed to stop her.
"…a-and f-forgive…us our debts…" blood coughed down her chin "…a-as…we also…h-have for…forgiven our d-debtors…"
His claw clutched her raven hair, lifting her airborne as her heart raced. "A-And do not bring us into temptation b-but deliver us from the wicked-"
Pain shot through her entire body upon impact against the wall of the staircase. She plummeted into a heap on the floor before he rolled her over, straddling on top of her. Despite Nicky's cries for him to stop these extremes, his merciless fists struck down on every inch of her face, every inch of her head. No visible surface was left untouched. Her glasses were sent flying, snapping when they crashed against the nearby wall. Each strike blurred her vision more, her train of thought grew fuzzier. Her ears rang more as darkness crept closer, sinking her deeper.
An unseen force stopped his fist midair, breathing heavily as his glare peered down upon the beaten and battered girl beneath him. He could see her light dimming in drooping eyes. He could see her swollen face painted purple and blue, her white undershirt stained red in the blood pooling from her nose and mouth. He stumbled backwards off his daughter in strained breaths, aghast by his own depravity as his wife ran to his aid. Oblivious to the teal bracelet wielding her wand out of eyesight, acting on her volition despite her godchild's order not to intervene.
Unable to swim another stroke, Tootie sank beneath the surface, drowning under dark waters.
For once in no mood to go out, Susanne laid two breaded spam patties onto toasted buns, layering lettuce and tomato before setting the top bun. Seated at the kitchen table, Daran rubbed his scrunched forehead as he sorted through the mountain of bills guaranteed to eat his entire Pencil Pusher bi-weekly earnings and nibble on his wife's Real Estate paycheck.
"Can't that wait 'til after we eat?" Mrs. Turner huffed, bringing both plates to the table.
"I just don't want to get behind again…" Mr. Turner remarked before he looked up to the plate that'd been set in front of him, staring at the lone, dry spamburger before he scrunched his brow towards his wife "…the hell is this?"
"…dinner?!" Susanne took offense, taking her seat with her single plate. "What else!?"
"C'mon, honey, we're not doing this bad!" Daran held the spamburger in one hand before he let it drop like a rock back onto the plate.
"Oh?" she cocked a challenging brow. "Then explain the final notice on the light bill!"
"You made that reservation to that fancy-ass restaurant and ordered that fancy-ass lobster that your bougie ass did not need!" Daran countered. Funny how she always begged to go out yet she had the most complaints about money and bills.
"My commission had just come in, and I wanted to treat us to a nice dinner!" Susanne retorted. "The Dinklebergs do it every night! Why can't we?!"
"In case you forgot, we will never be the Dinklebergs!" Daran narrowed his eyes bitterly. "Because unlike the Dinklebergs, we have that boy!"
Timmy had just come downstairs for some sort of dinner and stopped to lean against the archway as to not be seen, just as Mr. Turner started his rant.
"I mean just think of how great our lives would be if we didn't have Timmy! We'd have a lot more money to do a lot more things and order all the fancy-ass lobster we want without a care in the world! But no, we're stuck with that extra mouth!"
"…our lives would be even greater if Sophia was still here." Mrs. Turner gloomily grumbled, tearing off a strip of extra lettuce from her spamburger "…she was an extra mouth, but…" her voice shook on the verge of tears "…she was our sweet…precious daughter…."
Timmy felt a soul-crushing punch in his gut.
"Why did it have to be her…" she sniffed as Daran softened his features, reaching to take her hand into his "…why couldn't it have been him?"
As Daran empathized with his wife's grief, her admission pierced the heart of what was left of their son's already shredded esteem. Unable to hear another word, Timmy tore himself away to the doom and gloom of his room without his parents ever realizing he was there.
Two goldfish with pink and green eyes watched as their godchild entered the room with his head hung low, simply shutting the door instead of his usual slam whenever he was upset. Cosmo and Wanda poofed into their fairy forms as the ten-year-old trudged over to slump onto his bed with arms crossed over his midsection, despair pooling in his eyes.
"…are you okay, sport?" Wanda inquired when she noticed his threatening tears of his bleeding heart.
"No…" Timmy squeaked, squeezing himself tighter. Choosing to be honest because he just couldn't bottle any more pain.
Getting a very rare idea, the peppy green fairy inched closer to the gloomy child with his sparkling wand. "I know what'll cheer ya up! Look!" a cloud of green smoke revealed the shiniest five cents to ever exist. "Her name's Phillip! Ain't she cute?!"
Blue eyes never strayed from the ground, a lone tear trickling from his downcast stare.
"Even you had to know that was stupid…" Wanda grumbled at her husband's antics. She understood he was just amping his goofiness for the sake of lifted spirits, but he should know by now how to read the room.
Sighing defeatedly, Cosmo made his nickel vanish "…do you wanna talk, Timmy?"
Timmy didn't move, didn't flinch, didn't even blink. Survivor's guilt imprisoned him inside his own bleak mind, replaying his parents' words on repeat. Even his own parents confirmed how much of a worthless pile of waste he was. At this point, why couldn't it have been him?! They clearly wish it was him who was pushed down the stairs, him who cracked his head on tiled floor. Him who fell into cardiac arrest at the hospital and flatlined…
Self-hatred slanted his brow. Screw it! If that's how they really feel…then why not grant them that wish? Why not grant everyone that wish?! He'd no longer be a burden…everyone would be better off…
"…Timmy?" Wanda's concern frowned as she called out to Timmy, watching him jump from his bed and storm past them towards his closet. "…w-what're you doing?!"
Ignoring his godmother, Timmy shuffled through useless junk in his closet before he stumbled upon the light-pink ribbon that used to tie his sister's hair in a ponytail.
"…what's that for?" Cosmo tried, seeing the brooding boy resurface from the closet with cotton fabric clenched in his shaking grip.
Timmy didn't allow himself to think before he proceeded to loop the ribbon underneath his chin, tying it into a bow. Gripping both ends of the ribbon, clenching his eyes. Gritting his teeth in preparation for a tight pull…
"TIMMY!" Both fairies zoomed to their godchild, wrestling the ribbon from around Timmy's neck. If Cosmo and Wanda allowed another child to die under their care, their licenses would get a third strike. A third strike meant permanent suspension and death to their career and reputability.
Even worse…they would fail to bring happiness to a miserable child.
"NO!" Timmy's anger cried in his tug of war with his fairies, Sophia's bow still fastened near his larynx. "Let me DO this!"
"Timmy, NO!" hot tears stung fuchsia orbs.
"This is not the way, Timmy!" Cosmo spoke from experience, fighting to loosen the ribbon as frustration growled from the boy's throat. Attempting to deescalate, Wanda aimed for his wrists, grabbing him before his distress managed to push her away.
"STOP IT!" his scowl met her watering eyes, rivers of regret streaming down his flushed cheeks.
"…w-why, Timmy?" Wanda couldn't speak above a whisper, distress choking her voice.
"Sophia doesn't deserve to be DEAD! I DO!" Timmy was full-on screaming as Cosmo tried to grab the ribbon with Timmy's attention not on him, only for Timmy to realize what was happening and spin away from his godfather. "LET GO!"
"Y-You're making a big mistake, Timmy!" Cosmo pleaded, struggling to hold back his own tears.
"The biggest mistake I made is being born!" Timmy cried, shoving his godfather hard enough for Cosmo to fall backwards onto the floor.
Before Timmy had the chance to tighten the bow that was still around his neck, Wanda had a split moment of clarity and used her trembling wand to make the bow disappear into pink smoke. When his hands felt for a way out that was no longer there, an aching howl escaped from deep within, scratching at his hair.
"Timmy, please!" Wanda risked her own safety to restrain Timmy by his wrists again. His eyes were clamped shut with every gut-wrenching scream, and in that very moment, he heard three words that were never said to him before…
"WE LOVE YOU!"
The hate-filled flames burning his soul alive was doused with splashes of water's love as his screams faded into aching sobs. His resistance weakened, his legs unable to hold the weight of despair dropping him to his knees. The fairy godmother wrapped her arms around his rocking shoulders as if to give him strength, cradling his head to her chest.
Pushing himself off the ground, the fairy godfather allowed his own tears to fall as he joined his wife's embrace around their godchild. "…we'll always love you." Cosmo whispered, holding both his wife and his godchild. Hugging them close, never wanting to let them go.
For the first time, Timmy didn't want them to let him go. His soul craved all the love they could give, the love that could somehow fill the seemingly bottomless hole that his own parents dug with their sheer resentment towards him. Wanda planted a tender kiss to Timmy's temple, tasting the salt of her own tears on her lips. Cosmo nestled his damp cheek into the messy sides of brunette hair as sobs fainted into whimpers, tears streaming down blue eyes heavy with inner torment.
Nothing else mattered, not his parents, not Francis, not Trixie, not Crocker, not even his friends. He was surrounded in unconditional love, the very thing he never felt worthy of. A love so pure, a love he'd only ever received from the girl he'd once shared a womb with…
The fairy family remained like this until drooping blue eyes succumbed to exhaustion, falling into slumber's peace.
Purple eyes parted from slumber's peace. The dizziness swirling in her aching head and the darkness around her made her doubt that her eyes were open, until her double vision settled upon the lunar beams gleaming through cracks of her bedroom window, the only source of room light. Finding her vision clear, a limp hand rose towards her face, feeling the plastic lens mended together with tape. What…what happened? How did she get here? Her arms attempted to sit up, only for lack of strength to fall back against her pillow.
"Don't try to sit up." she heard a fairy's gentle voice, tilting her sore neck to teal eyes glowing in the moonlight that cast a soft glow in her marmalade curls. "Just rest."
Taking her godmother's advice, Tootie sank into her mattress, lifting heavy eyes to the fairy floating by her bedside with teal eyes soon narrowed bitterly.
"…your mother brought you here." Rose's voice was gentle with hints of resentment when speaking of her godchild's parents "…your parents left hours ago."
"…left?" Tootie squeaked "…w-where?"
"Somewhere." Rose didn't know and frankly didn't care. "Took off in their car. You're safe."
Tilting her head to face the ceiling, the faintest grin curled in swollen lips. Jehovah had finally done it…He'd finally saved her…
"…I used magic to stop your dad." Rose confessed, rueful of the hope visibly shattering in Tootie's fading grin. "I know you said not to but…I-I thought he was gonna kill you and I just couldn't let that happen!"
Purple eyes stared off at this revelation, watering all over again. Jehovah is a loving God, a just God. A God who loves His children, who would crucify His own son for His children. Why did Jehovah let this happen? All she ever wanted to do was serve Him, please Him. All she ever wanted was to be His friend. Jehovah should have protected her as her protector. But He didn't. Looking back as the pain throbbing through her entire body, laying defeated and broken in bed…she realized…He never did.
Blinking back her tears, Tootie met her godmother's gaze, her words almost inaudible "…I wish I knew the truth."
Rose sensed darkness seeping into Tootie's tone "…what do you mean?"
"…I wish to know if Jehovah God is real."
Rose clenched apprehensive fists around her wand, concerned for what realization might do to the little girl's psyche. "…I'm…not sure if I can grant that wish."
"…why?" Tootie's voice was so hushed.
"The truth on whether God is real is…unknown." Rose did her best to explain in terms Tootie could understand. "Any evidence of proof is either coincidental or subjective." her chin lowered diffidently. "There's…no real way of knowing for certain." She frowned at Tootie's eyes darkening with each awkwardly second that silently ticked by. Fretting over the words that she could have worded things better, worried there was nothing better that she could've said.
Glossy eyes tore away, trembling fingers scrunching her bedsheets. Her empty stomach churned, swallowing the nausea down. Everything she ever knew, everything she'd ever been taught about 'the truth'…was all just one big lie! If Jehovah was truly real, the answer would be an easy yes! For the first time in her life, she felt…empty. Hollow from the inside. So much of who she was, so much of her life, had been tied to this entity of 'God.' Her soul lived off her faith in Him, but now that He more than likely didn't exist, it was like she'd been taken off life support and left to die.
Thoughts swarming between logic and faith, her voice sounded as dead as she felt inside "…I wish the pain was gone."
Rose sadly raised her wand, numbing Tootie's pain with a magical aesthetic. Given Tootie the ability to sit up without struggle, dangling her legs from beneath the sheets to the side of the bed. Cold eyes glued to lavender floors.
"…I wish we were outside."
"…outside?"
"Yes."
Raising her wand again, Rose then paused. "…you…don't want to cover up first?"
"No."
It was nighttime and everyone was likely retired in the privacy of their homes, but what if someone were to peek out the window and see her walking around with a busted nose and bruises? Not to mention her shirt was still covered in bloodshed. The fact that Tootie would willingly go out in public with her visible injuries was not a good sign…
The gold star sparkled, and in a blink, both fairy and godchild stood out near the front yard. Rose disguised herself as Tootie's bracelet as narrowed eyes shot lasers towards the dark house. A vigilant statue judging all the sins hidden within those French-lilac walls, the sins permitted under that metal roof.
"…Tootie?" Rose called out softly, more perturbed by Tootie's scowling silence "…where're we going?"
Tootie didn't respond. Instead, she spun away from the house that never felt like a home, putting one foot in front of the other. Eyes straight ahead, lacing arms around her torso. Like she had bene since eight o'clock that morning going door to door…she simply kept walking.
. . . . . .
The Turners were still under the florescent lighting of the kitchen, holding hands across the table with cold spamburgers left uneaten. Lost in their own grief, together in their exchange of comfort. The doorbell rang in their walls, and husband and wife shared puzzled looks. Since they'd decided to stay in, they were not expecting Vicky to come over. Plus, it was fifteen to ten…who would show up on their doorstep at this late hour?
Gently removing her hand from his, Susanne scooted from the table as Daran followed suit. Exiting the kitchen towards the front door where Susanne unbolted the door. An audible gasp escaped at what was revealed behind the door. Multiple bruises covered the little girl's head and cheeks, dried blood trailed from her nose and swollen lips, soaked in her shirt. Fading lacerations coated what they could see of her arms and legs, like she'd been beaten with a belt.
"Oh my goodness…" Mrs. Turner's motherly instincts kneeled to the girl, the girl who was the same size and height as her late daughter. "…what happened to you?"
Visible tears threatened to fall as the little girl squeezed herself tighter. Mr. Turner stood near his wife to join her, equally staggered by the little girl's battered appearance. Jesus, how could anyone be so cruel…
"…I-I'm sorry to bother you…" she stammered, lifting her chin with quivering lips "…is…i-is Vicky here?"