No matter how much young Ayana had taken Tate's words to heart, Mrs Langdon knew better than to over-look her grand son's fondness for the neighbor's daughter.
A short while after Michael and Ayana's initial meeting, Constance approached the girl outside of her home. Here she could easily coerce the girl into her home without any meddling spirits stepping in to prove a nuisance.
Ayana was quickly swept up in Constance's manipulative words, the child felt comforted by the some how familiar curve to her smile.
"My my, dear! What slender fingers you have! I bet you must be an absolute Beethoven on the old ivory keys! Piano is such a beautiful instrument for a young girl."
Ayana sat clutching a cup of orange juice at Constance's dining table. Blushing from the compliment young Ayana stared down her chubby hands, shaking her head shyly.
"We have a piano but, I never learned how to play...-"
Mrs Langdon gasped, putting on a show of mock horror. Scoffing, Constance threw back her head, flashing a bright, toothy grin. She reminded Ayana of a crocodile in a song she'd heard.
"Well that simply won't do! So it's decided, you shall come over to our house every Monday night, where I will personally tutor you."
Confusion tugging at her brow, Ayana opened her pouting lips to politely decline, when Constance quickly cut her short.
"Oh would you look at the time? Looks to me like your father will be home soon, better hurry on home dear before he begins to worry..."
And before Ayana knew what was happening, she was bundled out the door. After pausing to grasp her bearings, Ayana burst into a reckless sprint back home. If her parents were to know of her outings she knew for sure she'd never be allowed out again.
On entering the house, the little girl glanced up towards the clock above the entrance way, however on seeing that her father would be returning very soon, ran as fast as her short legs could carry her. Ayana clattered up the wide oak staircase, along the hall and into her bedroom. As she gasped for air, she turned to see him, her guardian angel leaning in the doorway.
Smiling fondly, Tate carefully closed the door, where he then wordlessly sat with his back resting against. Already the two had fallen into this pattern; each night Tate would guard her doorway, and each night Ayana slept blissfully unaware of her drunkard of a father.
As Ayana busied herself tugging off her thread-bare dress to change for bed, Tate closed his eyes and tilted his head back against the door, providing a small amount of modesty to the child who had yet to understand such concepts.
The fair haired boy jolted in suprise, however, when a small body crawled into his lap. On opening his eyes a small, warn out blanket was clumsily wrapped around his shoulders.
"You'll get cold and it's scary without a blanky, so, just for now you can use mine, okay?"
As Tate watched the strange young girl crawl under her sheets, the spirit felt an emotion stirring in his chest, one he hadn't felt since... Since a long time ago. Ayana's soft snores filled the room as she drifted off to sleep.
Tate chuckled to himself as he inspected the small scrap of material. How strange, he thought, he would have grown attached to this odd little girl with eyes like his sisters and her blankets for unfeeling ghosts.
His gentle smile fell into a hard line when the stumbling footsteps of Ayana's father. As Tate leaned his mass against the door, he silently cursed the spell her mother cast to weaken him. A sudden burst of rage bubbled under his skin as the man continued to kick and punch the door. Silently, Tate promised the girl in the rickety bed in front of him, that no on, living or dead, will be allowed to hurt her ever again. The wooden door cracked at Tate's inhuman strength. Ayana smiled unaware in her dreams.
Never smile at a crocodile
No, you can't get friendly with a crocodile
Don't be taken in by his welcome grin
He's imagining how well you'd fit within his skin
Never smile at a crocodile
Never tip your hat and stop to talk awhile
Never run, walk away, say good-night, not good-day
Clear the aisle but never smile at Mister Crocodile
YOU ARE READING
Silver Linings
FanficAyana was only 6 years old when her abusive parents moved her into the famous Los Angeles Murder House, and you know what they say about negligent parents: Where affection is absent, evil resides...
