The Valiant

Prologue

The night I found out about my parents death I was about seven years old. The memory of that night still haunts my brain. My mother was screaming and carrying on through the phone, tears burning down her pail face from her crystal blue eyes and through the strands of her red curls.
   I was curled up, lounging in what I assumed was my father's rocking chair, rocking back and fourth slowly as the hinges of the chair creaked; running my fingers against the course surface of the arm.
   I didn't have much of a relationship with my father, unfortunately. He was always away somewhere in town where we lived in Nebraska while i was awake, leaving me and my mother with a very strong bond. I looked almost identical to my mother. Bright red hair, fair pale porcelain skin. Except for the fact that I had a strong physique like my father.
   I watched my mother hang up the phone and pace towards me with fear in her eyes. In seconds she had taken my arm and rushed me up the steep stairs of our small country home leaving rug burns on my tender toes.
    When we got to my bedroom door, she pushed through it and started rushing to make my bed. I looked at her wondering what was happening with my child's mind. "Mommy" I whimpered trembling. She finished making my bed and got to her knees beside it. After that she grabbed my hand and pulled me to her.
   "Veronica," her voice shook, "Get under your bed and don't come out until I come to get you." Her hands were trembling followed by more tears. I gripped her sleeve. "Mommy, Im scared." She stopped and cupped my babe face in her hands. "Veronica, something very- bad- is going on right now and I want to make positively sure your going to be safe. You are more special to me than you know. Now, get under the bed and don't come out until come to get you." I replied with a simple "Ok" and she hugged me in her slender arms.
   Then, within a few moments, there was a crash down stairs that sounded like breaking glass and wood hitting the kitchen floor. It was a man.
   "Jane!" Echoed through the house, "Where are you?" She stared at me for a moment then lifted my bed skirt. "Go! Now!" I hurried under the bed and inched my way through the fluff of stuffed animals to the far corner of my bed then to lay there, silently. I could see the shadow of my mother's feet from under the bed sheets. She stood up and ran back down the carpet stairs. I herd her foot steps stop in the kitchen below my bed room. I could hear muffled voices.
"You're not taking her back there."
"Shes just a child"
Then a gun shot. No noise followed except for the mans crys.
   Another gunshot followed, but this time the bullet shot through my floor and left a hole in it near my tiny, porcelain foot. I sat there quietly underneath my bed, waiting for something to happen next. After a while of being in the darkness, I could feel my eyelids growing heavy before i drifted into a deep sleep.
  The police found me the next morning and took me to an office building for children. I sat in a small room with a nice, brown haired lady for several hours while she asked questions about me and my recent home affars. Though the traumatizing events that had happened raced through my mind, I couldn't stop myself from staring at a small, stuffed snowy owl on the floor. When I asked about my parents her face went pale and blank almost as white as the stuffed birds fur. There was a long silence until she looked up at me. She told me that my mother was killed by an intruder who shot her and himself to cover his crime. As for my father, they couldn't find a trace of him.
    I stayed in the Cloverleaf adoption center in town for almost a month, my only friend being the stuffed owl who I then called Duffy. The manager of the adoption center let me keep it when they saw how attached I was to it. I was sitting in bed getting over a cold when the management got a call stating that a family called the Meyers, a small family in Indiana, had chosen to adopt me. The maids helped pack my things and sat them in the office by the door. I had to sit in a chair for a little while and wait for my travel guide to get me ready for the train ride to Indiana. It was the middle of winter 2007 so I had on an oversized coat with "Winnie the Pooh" written on the back with his head sewn on the pockets.
   The train ride took almost two days. The woman who was taking me to Indiana wasn't to kind to me through the three days we were together. Her hair gave off the fact that she was older. She would sleep on the train a lot and left me by myself to eat while she went to the restroom. The one moment i can remember the most from the train was a little boy with white hair down to his shoulders. I found him crying in the ladies room by himself with a bruise on his face. I can't remember his name but I helped him find his mother in car 14.
   We arrived in Indianapolis Indiana at 9 a.m. and we're finally released from the steel train. I looked at my surroundings to take it all in but all i was greeted with was peculiar stares. Then i saw what I assumed was the Meyers. The woman standing there was a young woman with short black hair and a button nose. Her smile was kind and warming. What I assumed was her husband was incredibly tall and stalky; pencil thin almost. His hair was like the suns rays and curled to his forehead leaving a golden halo in the light. Suddenly a strong tug at the hand from my guide snapped me back to attention. The couple thanked my guide and and the man took my belongings in his hands. I could feel my pink nose freezing in the cold winter air when a tissue was offered to me by my new mother. "We've waited a very long time to finally meet you." She gave me a small smile and opened her hand to me which i took. Each of the couple took one of my hands in theirs and guided me out to the icy parking lot to their car.
  My foster dad started walking around to start the car and my new mother helped me in. She opened the door and waited for me to hop into the booster seat. There was another little girl in the car with blonde hair that looked a couple years younger than me. She reminded me of a baby doll, with rosy cheeks and a pink nose I assumed was from the bitter cold. I felt myself getting nervous and squeezed Duffy's wing.
"Hello," she said and gave her best attempt of a smile. She was missing two of her upper teeth and one on her lower gum. "I'm Lillyan." She continued. Her eyes were a dark shade of green and sparkled in reflection of the fresh snow outside her window. I smiled back with a quick twitch of my lips, "I'm Veronica..." I replied shyly. She looked up at the front seat as the car started down the road. "Mommy? Is v- veir-" you could tell she was struggling with my name. It took her several tries and failed attempts until she finally spit out, "Is Vicky going to be my sister?" . "Yes." the mother giggled, "Veronica is going to be your new sister." Lillyan looked at me and started hopping up and down in her booster, clapping her fluffy pink mittens together rapidly.
  The ride was short but full of thought. I still wondered where my father was even though i knew he wasn't coming back. I had felt the car pull into the driveway and come to a screeching stop. I looked out my window and saw a large three story house with a big yard and porch. Two Silver Maple trees stood in front of it with several swings hanging from them including a horse made from a tire.
   Lilly got out of the car first with a hop, then me with the help of my foster dad. "Welcome home Vicky." He said calmly before my new mom interrupted, "Philip, her name is Veronica, not Vicky." I looked up at them and grinned, "Its ok," I said, "I like Vicky." They smiled, "See Molly, she'll be fine." Lilly was waiting on the porch, hopping up and down, blabbering about all the things she wanted to do with me like tea parties and makeovers. A Persian kitten came from behind her and ran towards me; he looked something similar to a ball of cotton. "Leonardo!" Lillyan yelled. The cat ran in a circle around us as we walked onto the porch and into my new home.