Golden Wings

Chapter 6~ 1941, New York

My fault. My fault, my fault.

The words beat on the girls head the a drum. Her once silky black hair had been reduced to an ugly shade of gray. The house creaked around her, and she sat on her bed, the words etched into her mind.

My fault. It's my fault, my fault.

It's all my fault.

"Janet?" A voice called from bellow. Janet didn't respond, just turned and looked out the window, at the sea. "Janet, please! Come down for dinner!" Her mother demanded.

"Leave me alone." Janet croaked, voice barely above a whisper. Sickeningly she stood, and made her way over to her desk, where she pulled out a pen and parchment.

'My dearest Mother and Father,' She wrote, in atrocious looping cursive.

'I do not wish to come downstairs, not tonight, and not ever. I am perfectly happy in my room, and if you, or any of the housekeepers, come to fetch me, I shall-

'My fault. My fault, my fault.' Janet watched in horror, as her hand skipped down the page, and began to write the words, unbidden. Feverishly, she tore her hand from the page, pushing the words to the back of her mind. She finished writing the note, and after tearing the words from the bottom of the page, shoved it under her doorframe.

"My dearest Mother and Father,
I do not wish to come downstairs, not tonight, and not ever. I am perfectly happy in my room, and if you, or any of the housekeepers, come to fetch me, I shall barricade the doors, and throw myself from the window. Please just provide to my daily needs through the crack in the door, and if you wish, communicate with me through letters.
I do not wish to see you. I do not wish to see anyone.
I cannot call myself your daughter, not anymore. Not after what I did.
Thank you for obliging,
Janet J."

~

"Dearest Daughter,
Seeing as we cannot do anything to help you, your father and I will have a cat-flap installed into your door tomorrow, so that you can access your meals easier. The installers are coming at 12, noon. Please be ready for this. We love you very much, and you will always be our daughter.
No matter what.
Love from your Mother and Father."

By the next day, the letter lay crumpled on the floor, no cat-flap installed, and the room empty. By 12, an ambulance arrived, instead of installation workers.

Janet's parents were fearful for their daughter, so they called a doctor. Dr. Maves, a well known and well respected doctor, had talked to the parents after he went to see Janet;

"Mr. and Mrs. James." He began as he descended the staircase. "If I may be so blunt, I'm afraid that your daughter is not only suicidal- as we collected from her letter- but quite possibly mad."

"Mad?" Olivia James' lower lip began to tremble. "You can't possibly mean-"

"Yes, yes. I'm quite sure." He said calmly, shaking his head. "Mad. Insane. Gone."

"Alright! We don't need you to gloat over synonyms for our daughters condition!" William James snapped, holding his wife close as she wept quietly into his shoulder. "So what, pray tell, do you expect us to do?"

"Well, I suggest you send her back to the hospital with us, where we can provide her proper care." Dr. Maves spoke softly, making a steeple out of his hands in front of him.

At this Mrs. James threw herself away from her husband, viciously snapping back to the doctor. "No!" She shrieked, tears running down her face. "You can't take her! You can't have her!"

"Mrs. James-" The doctor started.

"She's mine! I've already lost one of my babies!"

"Olivia!-" William warned.

"You can't take her away from me too!" She finished, crumpling back into her husbands arms, who looked at the doctor in apologetical worry. He nodded understandingly.

"Mrs. James, I understand your concern, but there is something you must see."

So, together the trio climbed the stairs, up to Janet's room, where the three of them stood, staring in awful wonder. Etched into the walls, into everything were two words:
My fault.

"Oh, Janie." Her mother gasped, covering her mouth. The words covered her desk, her bedframe, the walls, the ceiling, the chairs, the door, the wardrobe. "How did she..."

"How long has she been up here?" The doctor asked.

"She only barricaded herself yesterday, but..." William began, gazing around in awe. "She would hardly come down for the past week."

"Hmm..." Dr. Maves shook his head, completely astonished that one girl could accomplish this damage in a week. "And, if you don't mind me asking... Do you have any idea what could have caused this?"

But neither of the parents answered. Both were staring in horror and the picture on the desk, with the words 'I'm sorry.' inked in with red marker.

And in the photo, smiling and laughing, stood a little girl with a mess of blond hair and startling copper eyes.

Clarisa.