Angel's Advocates
Angel's Advocates-Chapter 3
Chapter 3-And So, the Journey Begins...
"Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment"
-- Three years and a few months later ----
"FALLON! Wake up! Breakfast is ready!" Mom called up the steps. I rolled over and landed on the cream carpet with a 'thump'. I was mad with the time she woke me up. You know what? It was worse than 'mad’. I was utterly pissed. Why did she always insist on doing this to me?
I groaned and yelled back, "Mom! My lessons ended just yesterday! Sleeping in is a summer activity! Does it make you happy to make my life suck?” As I said this, laid my head back down on the floor, too lazy and tired to get up and into the bed, and looked around the room.
The walls were a light peach color, and there were posters of multiple different bands hanging up. There are way too many to mention, but a few were Owl City, More Like the Moon, A Rocket to the Moon, and Hollywood Undead. I loved my music; it was my escape from everything. The melody and lyrics to a certain song could make you forget everything; it could wrap you up in its embrace and carry you to a whole new world. A world where nothing bad can happen, a world where nothing can touch you.
There was a light wooden desk on the far wall, along with two shelves that housed all my favorite novels. There was a flat screen TV settling right next to the door. When you walked into the room, the first thing you would see was my bed with the light wooden night stand next to it, and then if you looked to the left you’d see my dresser, which was on the left wall, with that desk and those bookshelves, and my full-body mirror.
The cream carpet was soft beneath my body, and for a moment I contemplated just falling asleep right on the floor, but my mother just had to say something.
"Just because you're home schooled doesn't mean you can slack off! Don't you have chores to do? And don’t say suck! It isn’t ladylike, Fallon,” she replied quick-wittedly. When I’d hit my twelfth birthday she started drilling the ways to be ‘ladylike’ into me. I didn’t see much sense to it, we weren’t nobles, and we lived on a farm. What use would we have for ‘ladylike’ ways?
"I don't want to do all that herding and mucking and milking and stuff! I have better things to do with my life than dirty farm work! It isn’t ladylike to shovel horse crap!" My temper was flaring. As I'd gotten older, I'd developed quite an attitude, and although it helped me in some situations to be witty and sarcastic, in others, it made me sound like a bad and disobedient child. I wasn’t bad or disobedient, just misunderstood.
"Fallon Marie Miller! You will never speak to me in such a manor ever again!"
I groaned again, "Why doesn't Ayden ever have to do anything?" It always surprised me how well my mother treated Ayden, and how she acted like my own personal slave driver. Ever since daddy died mom hasn’t acted the same, she’s been distant and mean. In certain situations, she could be like the old mom I knew and loved, not the stranger that took her body when daddy died.
Thinking about him sent a pang of guilt through my chest. I hadn’t prayed to daddy or said goodnight to him lately. I felt as if I was neglecting him, and not respecting his memory.
“Good morning, daddy,” I said quietly while getting up off of the floor. I always called him daddy, even if I was a teenager now. I called mom ‘mommy’ before daddy died, before we grew apart, and before she turned into the person who wasn’t the kind-hearted woman I’d known.
I looked into his light blue eyes, the eyes that held so much strength and hope, the eyes that perfectly matched mine, but I knew that I wasn't that strong. I was a coward. His dark brown hair tumbled into his eyes, and in the picture, he was brushing it out of the way. You don’t have much time for haircuts when you’re in the constant rush of a battlefield. This was yet another quality that we shared, my hair was the same exact shade as his. The only thing different was the fact that he had to wear contacts and I had inherited my perfect vision from my mother.
I smiled slightly at the picture, feeling pride well in my chest. Seeing daddy in uniform always reminded me of how honorable he is, and the honorable way the he passed, and lastly, the desperate way that I missed his assuring presence.
I snapped out of my pity party and pulled back into the real world. I took in a deep breath and smelled the sweet scent a vanilla. I didn’t know why, but my room always smelled like that, although it could be the vanilla perfume I use on special occasions. I looked out into the hallway, where I could see the slightest hint of Ayden’s door to the left.
Ayden had been living in our house for a little over three years now, and had become a big part of our family. Whenever there was some sort of situation where I had to name family, Ayden was always included.
We didn’t know much about his past, anything really, but when my mom tried to bring him to the orphanage in town, he’d run away and come back. He’d always be back the next day. When she called the orphanage to inform them that Ayden was here, they would always say the same thing, no matter how many times we brought him back. “Ma’am, we have no record of Ayden McGuinn in our database.” Eventually, he just stayed as a permanent part of the family, and will continue to live here, as long as he stays in line.
I turned thirteen in January, and he turned seventeen two days before my birthday. My birthday was always nostalgic ever since Ayden came. I would always be in a haze, and I would wander into the forest. I wouldn’t go to the creek, though.
"FINE! Get him to help you! But young lady you will never question me! I am your mother, and you have to listen to what I say!"
I scoffed and then went into my bathroom. I took a shower and then looked in the mirror. My eyes were clouded with sleepiness and fury. Everything just seemed to piss me off these days.
I looked at my pasty reflection, wondering what was up with my skin. Although there wasn't even a hint of any sort of blemish, I never seemed to be able to obtain the slightest hint of a tan. It was depressing, really.
Sighing, I brushed my hair and pulled it into a messy ponytail. I never did care much about looks, even though I wish for a tan. I'm not beautiful, but I wouldn't say I'm the wicked witch of the west, either.
I casually strolled into Ayden's room, and instantly, the smell of axe filled my nose. I’d always loved that smell, and that’s what Ayden’s room always smelled like, no matter how long he went away. That was what he always smelled like, now that I think of it.
I looked around at the light blue walls that had a few random posters and things covering them and the wooden floor. His room was about half the size of mine, but it was cozy, and tidy too. He had the same wooden desk as me, with a light wood dresser and his bed, which had a light wood post. I looked at his sleeping figure from the doorway, covered in the solid, light blue comforter and snowy white sheets.
He looked so innocent and peaceful while he slept, not anything like the Ayden that I knew. I walked right up to his bed. I had my own way of waking him up; a way that I found is good for relieving anger and stress. I leaned down so my mouth was right next to his ear and I screamed, "AYDEN! Get up!"
His eyes shot open and he screamed, "Fallon!?" Axel, his Siberian husky woke with a start as well. Soon, he calmed down and gave me a wicked smile. It wasn’t any kind of good-natured or joking smile. It was the kind of sick smile that would be on the face of a murderer when he finally cornered a victim after a long game of cat-and-mouse.
AW NO. I turned to run away, but he caught my wrist. He pulled me toward him, and when his mouth was no more than a centimeter way from my ear, through gritted teeth and with a low, angry voice, he growled into my ear, "Don't. Ever. Do. That!"
He wasn't a morning person, it was completely obvious... I know what you're wondering. What happened to the kind Ayden of three years ago? The truth is it was never there. He was polite around my mom, but his real personality shone through at these kinds of moments. Don’t get me wrong, Ayden would never actually hurt me, he just liked to bring his point across with low, irritated voices and threatening gestures.
The only good thing he's ever done for me is bringing me home that day three years ago.
I stuck my tongue out at him as I booked out of the room and he gave me the finger. At times like those it was best to run so that my poor little life would be spared.
I realized when I got to the end of the hallway that I didn't tell him to help with the chores.
I ran back to his room and saw him pulling on his shirt, and got a glimpse of his perfectly formed abs. I’d never seen him without a shirt, and what I saw made my eyes widen in shock. There was a long, thick gash, at least two inches thick, which ran diagonal from his right shoulder to his left hip. The worst part was that it wasn’t even a scar. The gash was still opened. It wasn’t bleeding, but it was fresh, and it must’ve hurt really badly.
“W-What is… that?” I asked, stuttering, too shocked to really spit out a coherent sentence.
“Nothing,” he said, turning fully away from me, and quickly pulling his shirt down and wincing with the quick movement. That didn’t stop me from seeing the look on his face before he turned. It was full of worry and concern, and overall, his mystic eyes showed an immense amount of pain and suffering.
“Why don’t you just get me some breakfast or something? Like, strawberry yogurt mixed with rice and coffee.” I could tell that he didn’t really want breakfast, though yogurt mixed with rice and coffee was his favorite, weirdly enough as it is. I think it’s totally gross, but he likes it… I understood that he didn’t want to talk about it, and was getting desperate for a topic change. I didn't want to let it go... I wanted to help him, but I was too scared of the story behind it. I didn't want to know what he was doing when he got that cut. So, I dropped it.
Ayden was handsome. That’s one of his best traits; he has a lot of them. He only has one thing that outnumbers his good traits, which are his bad ones. Like, he doesn’t ever laugh, he eats the weirdest food, he doesn’t get how much he means to my mother and me, he lies a lot, he sneaks out and doesn’t come back for the longest time, he doesn’t tell anyone anything about himself, and he is insensitive at times.
They are all small flaws, but they’re there, and noticeable, and that’s only the beginning of them, but that doesn’t take away the fact of him being handsome. It also doesn’t change the fact that he’s special to us.
He’d gotten a lot better looking since he was fourteen, meaning he has perfect abs and he had the face of an angel. He wasn’t breathtaking or overwhelmingly handsome, but enough to make you want to stare for a minute.
He always wore all black whenever he left. A tight black shirt with a black hoodie over top and black cargo jeans with crossed belt loops. It was always the same outfit when he went on one of his ‘outings’.
"Ayden, you need to help me with my chores," I said in a low, demanding voice in attempt to keep him here. I wasn't sure when he'd come back, I never was.
"Do your chores yourself, kid," Ayden said, "I'm going out."
I knew what that meant. Ayden would leave for different lengths of time, a few hours, a few days, weeks, and maybe even a month or two. We didn't know what he did, or where he went, but he'd come back absolutely exhausted. He would sleep for a day or two and then come back to life with us. He'd stay with us for a while, and then it would happen all over again.
Although I trusted Ayden completely, and I truly believed he would never hurt me or my mother, but I was scared of him on a certain level. Scared of the things he did that I didn’t know about, scared of the things he’s failed to tell me about himself. Terrified of what he does when he isn’t warm at home with us.
He was seriously like the lone wolf, only needing himself and his dog. Axel had been his best friend since they found each other two years ago. I couldn’t exactly say I was any different, though. I spent a lot of time alone, not near people. It gave me a lot of time to think, and to ponder possibilities I didn’t want to think about, like things that could happen to tear my family apart.
"You're leaving again… aren't you?" I asked, feeling the dread of him leaving creeping into my stomach.
His answer was to hop out the window and start to walk away, towards the city, with Axel following closely behind.
"Do you know how much we worry about you?" I called after him. He just kept walking. I felt that dejected and furious feeling start to creep into my heart again as I watched him walk away, to do things he would never tell me about, and meet people I would never meet.
There was no way I was just going to let him leave this time. I was going after him; I was going to find out where he goes when he disappears, and to indulge in my own sense of discovery. It was time for me to go on an adventure.
Little did I know at the time, this decision would smack me head first into a secret that I was never meant to know, it would bring an abrupt stop to the normal aspect of life.
"Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment"
-- Three years and a few months later ----
"FALLON! Wake up! Breakfast is ready!" Mom called up the steps. I rolled over and landed on the cream carpet with a 'thump'. I was mad with the time she woke me up. You know what? It was worse than 'mad’. I was utterly pissed. Why did she always insist on doing this to me?
I groaned and yelled back, "Mom! My lessons ended just yesterday! Sleeping in is a summer activity! Does it make you happy to make my life suck?” As I said this, laid my head back down on the floor, too lazy and tired to get up and into the bed, and looked around the room.
The walls were a light peach color, and there were posters of multiple different bands hanging up. There are way too many to mention, but a few were Owl City, More Like the Moon, A Rocket to the Moon, and Hollywood Undead. I loved my music; it was my escape from everything. The melody and lyrics to a certain song could make you forget everything; it could wrap you up in its embrace and carry you to a whole new world. A world where nothing bad can happen, a world where nothing can touch you.
There was a light wooden desk on the far wall, along with two shelves that housed all my favorite novels. There was a flat screen TV settling right next to the door. When you walked into the room, the first thing you would see was my bed with the light wooden night stand next to it, and then if you looked to the left you’d see my dresser, which was on the left wall, with that desk and those bookshelves, and my full-body mirror.
The cream carpet was soft beneath my body, and for a moment I contemplated just falling asleep right on the floor, but my mother just had to say something.
"Just because you're home schooled doesn't mean you can slack off! Don't you have chores to do? And don’t say suck! It isn’t ladylike, Fallon,” she replied quick-wittedly. When I’d hit my twelfth birthday she started drilling the ways to be ‘ladylike’ into me. I didn’t see much sense to it, we weren’t nobles, and we lived on a farm. What use would we have for ‘ladylike’ ways?
"I don't want to do all that herding and mucking and milking and stuff! I have better things to do with my life than dirty farm work! It isn’t ladylike to shovel horse crap!" My temper was flaring. As I'd gotten older, I'd developed quite an attitude, and although it helped me in some situations to be witty and sarcastic, in others, it made me sound like a bad and disobedient child. I wasn’t bad or disobedient, just misunderstood.
"Fallon Marie Miller! You will never speak to me in such a manor ever again!"
I groaned again, "Why doesn't Ayden ever have to do anything?" It always surprised me how well my mother treated Ayden, and how she acted like my own personal slave driver. Ever since daddy died mom hasn’t acted the same, she’s been distant and mean. In certain situations, she could be like the old mom I knew and loved, not the stranger that took her body when daddy died.
Thinking about him sent a pang of guilt through my chest. I hadn’t prayed to daddy or said goodnight to him lately. I felt as if I was neglecting him, and not respecting his memory.
“Good morning, daddy,” I said quietly while getting up off of the floor. I always called him daddy, even if I was a teenager now. I called mom ‘mommy’ before daddy died, before we grew apart, and before she turned into the person who wasn’t the kind-hearted woman I’d known.
I looked into his light blue eyes, the eyes that held so much strength and hope, the eyes that perfectly matched mine, but I knew that I wasn't that strong. I was a coward. His dark brown hair tumbled into his eyes, and in the picture, he was brushing it out of the way. You don’t have much time for haircuts when you’re in the constant rush of a battlefield. This was yet another quality that we shared, my hair was the same exact shade as his. The only thing different was the fact that he had to wear contacts and I had inherited my perfect vision from my mother.
I smiled slightly at the picture, feeling pride well in my chest. Seeing daddy in uniform always reminded me of how honorable he is, and the honorable way the he passed, and lastly, the desperate way that I missed his assuring presence.
I snapped out of my pity party and pulled back into the real world. I took in a deep breath and smelled the sweet scent a vanilla. I didn’t know why, but my room always smelled like that, although it could be the vanilla perfume I use on special occasions. I looked out into the hallway, where I could see the slightest hint of Ayden’s door to the left.
Ayden had been living in our house for a little over three years now, and had become a big part of our family. Whenever there was some sort of situation where I had to name family, Ayden was always included.
We didn’t know much about his past, anything really, but when my mom tried to bring him to the orphanage in town, he’d run away and come back. He’d always be back the next day. When she called the orphanage to inform them that Ayden was here, they would always say the same thing, no matter how many times we brought him back. “Ma’am, we have no record of Ayden McGuinn in our database.” Eventually, he just stayed as a permanent part of the family, and will continue to live here, as long as he stays in line.
I turned thirteen in January, and he turned seventeen two days before my birthday. My birthday was always nostalgic ever since Ayden came. I would always be in a haze, and I would wander into the forest. I wouldn’t go to the creek, though.
"FINE! Get him to help you! But young lady you will never question me! I am your mother, and you have to listen to what I say!"
I scoffed and then went into my bathroom. I took a shower and then looked in the mirror. My eyes were clouded with sleepiness and fury. Everything just seemed to piss me off these days.
I looked at my pasty reflection, wondering what was up with my skin. Although there wasn't even a hint of any sort of blemish, I never seemed to be able to obtain the slightest hint of a tan. It was depressing, really.
Sighing, I brushed my hair and pulled it into a messy ponytail. I never did care much about looks, even though I wish for a tan. I'm not beautiful, but I wouldn't say I'm the wicked witch of the west, either.
I casually strolled into Ayden's room, and instantly, the smell of axe filled my nose. I’d always loved that smell, and that’s what Ayden’s room always smelled like, no matter how long he went away. That was what he always smelled like, now that I think of it.
I looked around at the light blue walls that had a few random posters and things covering them and the wooden floor. His room was about half the size of mine, but it was cozy, and tidy too. He had the same wooden desk as me, with a light wood dresser and his bed, which had a light wood post. I looked at his sleeping figure from the doorway, covered in the solid, light blue comforter and snowy white sheets.
He looked so innocent and peaceful while he slept, not anything like the Ayden that I knew. I walked right up to his bed. I had my own way of waking him up; a way that I found is good for relieving anger and stress. I leaned down so my mouth was right next to his ear and I screamed, "AYDEN! Get up!"
His eyes shot open and he screamed, "Fallon!?" Axel, his Siberian husky woke with a start as well. Soon, he calmed down and gave me a wicked smile. It wasn’t any kind of good-natured or joking smile. It was the kind of sick smile that would be on the face of a murderer when he finally cornered a victim after a long game of cat-and-mouse.
AW NO. I turned to run away, but he caught my wrist. He pulled me toward him, and when his mouth was no more than a centimeter way from my ear, through gritted teeth and with a low, angry voice, he growled into my ear, "Don't. Ever. Do. That!"
He wasn't a morning person, it was completely obvious... I know what you're wondering. What happened to the kind Ayden of three years ago? The truth is it was never there. He was polite around my mom, but his real personality shone through at these kinds of moments. Don’t get me wrong, Ayden would never actually hurt me, he just liked to bring his point across with low, irritated voices and threatening gestures.
The only good thing he's ever done for me is bringing me home that day three years ago.
I stuck my tongue out at him as I booked out of the room and he gave me the finger. At times like those it was best to run so that my poor little life would be spared.
I realized when I got to the end of the hallway that I didn't tell him to help with the chores.
I ran back to his room and saw him pulling on his shirt, and got a glimpse of his perfectly formed abs. I’d never seen him without a shirt, and what I saw made my eyes widen in shock. There was a long, thick gash, at least two inches thick, which ran diagonal from his right shoulder to his left hip. The worst part was that it wasn’t even a scar. The gash was still opened. It wasn’t bleeding, but it was fresh, and it must’ve hurt really badly.
“W-What is… that?” I asked, stuttering, too shocked to really spit out a coherent sentence.
“Nothing,” he said, turning fully away from me, and quickly pulling his shirt down and wincing with the quick movement. That didn’t stop me from seeing the look on his face before he turned. It was full of worry and concern, and overall, his mystic eyes showed an immense amount of pain and suffering.
“Why don’t you just get me some breakfast or something? Like, strawberry yogurt mixed with rice and coffee.” I could tell that he didn’t really want breakfast, though yogurt mixed with rice and coffee was his favorite, weirdly enough as it is. I think it’s totally gross, but he likes it… I understood that he didn’t want to talk about it, and was getting desperate for a topic change. I didn't want to let it go... I wanted to help him, but I was too scared of the story behind it. I didn't want to know what he was doing when he got that cut. So, I dropped it.
Ayden was handsome. That’s one of his best traits; he has a lot of them. He only has one thing that outnumbers his good traits, which are his bad ones. Like, he doesn’t ever laugh, he eats the weirdest food, he doesn’t get how much he means to my mother and me, he lies a lot, he sneaks out and doesn’t come back for the longest time, he doesn’t tell anyone anything about himself, and he is insensitive at times.
They are all small flaws, but they’re there, and noticeable, and that’s only the beginning of them, but that doesn’t take away the fact of him being handsome. It also doesn’t change the fact that he’s special to us.
He’d gotten a lot better looking since he was fourteen, meaning he has perfect abs and he had the face of an angel. He wasn’t breathtaking or overwhelmingly handsome, but enough to make you want to stare for a minute.
He always wore all black whenever he left. A tight black shirt with a black hoodie over top and black cargo jeans with crossed belt loops. It was always the same outfit when he went on one of his ‘outings’.
"Ayden, you need to help me with my chores," I said in a low, demanding voice in attempt to keep him here. I wasn't sure when he'd come back, I never was.
"Do your chores yourself, kid," Ayden said, "I'm going out."
I knew what that meant. Ayden would leave for different lengths of time, a few hours, a few days, weeks, and maybe even a month or two. We didn't know what he did, or where he went, but he'd come back absolutely exhausted. He would sleep for a day or two and then come back to life with us. He'd stay with us for a while, and then it would happen all over again.
Although I trusted Ayden completely, and I truly believed he would never hurt me or my mother, but I was scared of him on a certain level. Scared of the things he did that I didn’t know about, scared of the things he’s failed to tell me about himself. Terrified of what he does when he isn’t warm at home with us.
He was seriously like the lone wolf, only needing himself and his dog. Axel had been his best friend since they found each other two years ago. I couldn’t exactly say I was any different, though. I spent a lot of time alone, not near people. It gave me a lot of time to think, and to ponder possibilities I didn’t want to think about, like things that could happen to tear my family apart.
"You're leaving again… aren't you?" I asked, feeling the dread of him leaving creeping into my stomach.
His answer was to hop out the window and start to walk away, towards the city, with Axel following closely behind.
"Do you know how much we worry about you?" I called after him. He just kept walking. I felt that dejected and furious feeling start to creep into my heart again as I watched him walk away, to do things he would never tell me about, and meet people I would never meet.
There was no way I was just going to let him leave this time. I was going after him; I was going to find out where he goes when he disappears, and to indulge in my own sense of discovery. It was time for me to go on an adventure.
Little did I know at the time, this decision would smack me head first into a secret that I was never meant to know, it would bring an abrupt stop to the normal aspect of life.