Concrete Angel

A small girl kicked up dust with her feet, clutching the dented tin box that contained her lunch as she walked down to her school, every so often tugging the lace hem of her sleeve down over her arm.

It was a cold December day. December 23, to be exact. Almost Christmas. One this particular girl may never see...

Everything started about a year ago, when the girl's father passed way serving in Iraq. She didn't understand what had happened, except that her dad was gone. Her mother took no responsibility in raising her, and instead turned her focus and money toward club-hopping, bringing men she met there home, and a variety of drugs.

The girl touched her cheek in memory of the slap she recieved for asking her mother where her clean dress was. "WHY SHOULD I CARE!?" she remembered her mother yelling at her. "YOU ARE NOTHING BUT A FUCKING MISTAKE! WHY CAN'T YOU JUST GO AWAY!?" So, she slunk back to her room and picked up the dress she wore the day before, hoping no one realizes it.

Pushing her classroom door open, her teacher greeted her cheerfully, her light brown, curly hair flopping in her face as she saw her last student had arrived in class.

"Karin!" the teacher smiled. "Good morning! Go ahead and take your seat, honey."

"G'morning Ms. Ruseo," Karin mumbled, timidly walking to her seat at the back of the classroom. She looked next to her - normally an empty seat - but there was a blonde little boy sitting there instead. Not wanting to question her teacher, she pulled out her books and began her work.

- - -

'I wonder why she's so timid,' Ms. Ruseo wondered after getting Karin to settle down for the class's afternoon nap. 'And isn't that the same dress she had on yesterday...? It's hard to tell. If she really is abused, she wears a thick mask...'

- - -

School was coming to an end for the day. As Karin was walking towards the door, her teacher followed her out of the corner of her eye. As she was talking to one of her classmates, Ms. Ruseo took notice of some dark spots on the child's arms.

"Karin!" she called out. Karin spun around to face her teacher. "Can you come here a minute?"

Karin walked over to her teacher, wondering why she was being called. "Did I do something bad, Ms. Ruseo?" she asked quietly, tucking a strand of dirty blonde hair behind her right ear.

Ms. Ruseo smiled. "No, sweetie, you're not in trouble. But how did you get those bruises? Did someone push you."

Karin began to panic. "N-no, Ms. Ruseo, I jus-I just fell, that's all. I fell down the stairs comin' up to school this morning."

The woman saw Karin was lying, but decided not to push things farther, although her instinct told her ther was much more to those bruises than the five-year-old in front of her let on. "Well, be more careful, okay, Karin? We don't need you getting hurt more than those bruises there."

Karin smiled. She hadn't let anything slip. "Yes, Ms. Ruseo, I'll be lots more careful! Bye now! Mommy's waiting for me at home!"

Ms. Ruseo smiled and waved as Karin skipped off out the door.

- - -

"FINALLY, the little shit's hoooome," Karin's mother hiccuped, wavering on her feet as she neared the front door with a Corona in her hand. "Why'd you take so long, you bitch?"

"T-the teacher needed to talk to me after school," Karin mumbled, casting her eyes on the ground in front of her.

"LOOK ME IN THE EYES AND SPEAK UP, MISTAKE!" her mother roared, slapping Karin across the face. Karin hit the ground hard but quickly got back up to avoid a blow to the stomach.

She looked up at her mother and kept her tears at bay. "The teacher needed to talk to me after school."

"'Bout what?"

"Because I got in an argument with one of the boys and she wanted to know why I did it."

Again, her mother slapped her. "WORTHLESS! CAN'T EVEN SPEND FIVE HOURS AT SCHOOL WITHOUT BECOMING A BITCH! GO TO YOUR ROOM AND FUCKIN' STAY THERE!"

Karin quietly escaped up to her second-floor bedroom. After changing for bed - because she never ate dinner anyway unless she stole from the cafateria - she sat by her windowsill and stared at the stars. This was the peaceful part of her night; Karin would sit and stare at the stars until she became tired and climbed in bed while her mother got what she wanted from the 'new guy.'

Suddenly, the little boy from school popped up in the window across from her. "What'cha lookin' at?"

Karin glanced at him before returning her gaze to the sky. "The stars. They're so pretty, and they jus' sit there lookin' over us while we sleep the night away."

The two sat at their windows until Karin heard a loud clanging coming up towards her room. She knew it was her mother instantly.

"YOU LIAR!" her mother screamed at Karin. Karin jumped down from the windowsill and tried backing away, but her mother was too fast. The boy watched with mild intrest what was happening. "YOUR TEACHER JUST CALLED ME AND SAID YOU FELL COMIN' TO SCHOOL! WHAT ELSE DID YOU SAY!? WHAT THE FUCK ELSE DID YOU SAY!?"

"I didn't tell her anything, I swear! Momma, I swear I didn't!" Karin cried, trying to raise her arms in defense. Her mother snatched them down.

"YOU'RE NOTHING! YOU CAN'T EVEN TELL ME THE TRUTH!" Karin looked out the window one last time as her mother dragged her away.

The little boy left his window to go to bed. He slept peacefully for the soft screams that punctured his dreams...

- - -

A police car pulled up to the Anderson residence, followed by a loud ambulance. People rushed out towards the house, desperate to get to the little girl inside. The little boy from the window stood just behind the police tape that glowed slightly from the car lights around it as the little girl's body was brought out.

Not everyone gets their happy ending.

- - -

A few people are gathered around a small, child-size stone angel. A slab of granite bearing the name Karin Anderson, 2003-2008, is buried into the ground. An innocent little girl lay silently under it all.

Her mother doesn't even cry.

The little boy stands at the center of the tiny group. After a few seconds, he turns around and walks through her mother to greet Karin with a smile. He takes her hand as they run off, laughing, to the other concrete angels of the grave.