The Fallen One

Chapter Three

            “I bet you are nervous.”

          “Mom? Really? Why do we have to take her with us?”

          “Because I feel responsible for what happened to her.”

          While they were talking back and forth, Tiffany looked out the window, seeing objects flying by. She was very mesmerized by the color, and the smells.

          “We don’t even know her name. What are we going to call her? Idiot or Stupid-Girl?” the boy in the seat in front of Tiffany said as his mother shook her head slightly.

          “When she is ready, she can tell us her name,” the mother replied.

          Tiffany frowned as she listened to their words. She was mostly confused as she remembered sitting in the bed, and watched the woman talk to the man in green and white about something.

          “She has no record, nor existence of ever being born,” the man said as he looked at Tiffany.

          Sitting in the car, replaying the words in her head, she looked up at her reflection off the window. She saw a pale faced girl with huge, deep sapphire eyes with silver pupils. She sighed as she leaned back against the seat, wincing at the sharp pain on her back.

          “Oh, honey,” the woman spoke, glancing between her and the road in front of her. “The doctor wants you to be careful about your injuries. So be careful.”

          “I will laugh if we find out she is a runaway from like Russia or France,” Wyatt mumbled as he stared at the window. He was an only child, so yeah, he was jealous that his mother wanted to pay attention to someone else that was not her own flesh and blood. “Actually, it would be cool if she is a spy to find a way to take down the United States.”

          “Wyatt!” the woman yelled, making Tiffany jump a little.

          Why are they angry? Tiffany thought, and then frowned deeply. She tried to remember what the woman in white said when she accidentally dropped the tray of foot that made Tiffany a little sick to her stomach.

          “I..am..zorry,” Tiffany spoke out loud, looking down at her legs, which was dressed in jean like stockings. “I am sorry.” She repeated the words again, feeling the ease of the words slip out of her lips.

          “Oh, honey,” the woman frowned as she looked at Tiffany from the rear view mirror. “You have nothing to feel sorry for. Wyatt is just being a brat.”

          Tiffany frowned as well. She didn’t feel like she was welcomed.

          Without thinking, Tiffany looked out the window, and whispered, “Tiffany,” watching her breath fog up the window. Her warm breath bounced back onto her face, making her skin feel uncomfortable, and a little wet.

          “Tiffany? Is that your name? Tiffany?” Wyatt asked, turned around in his seat, looking at Tiffany with large brown eyes. In his own way, he was handsome. He had jet black hair, and small plumbed lips that matched his features. The only thing that was off about him was that he had a piercing in the corner of his eyebrow.

          Tiffany shrugged a little, making a face when her stitches stretched a little. She looked back out the window, and Wyatt turned back around, frowning.

          Above them, the dark clouds roared and clashed brightly as they rolled over the car, threatening to pour it’s contents on top of the station wagon.

          Tiffany was so drawn into the mysterious objects floating above them, that she didn’t notice the car stopping in a drive way. Wyatt had opened her door, but she didn’t move. She sat there until he cleared his throat.

          Slowly, Tiffany lifted each leg, and pressed each bare foot onto the hot pavement, frowning as it made her feel uncomfortable.

          “Come on, and we will rush inside,” Mom said as she picked up a few bags from the trunk before slamming it shut.  She walked up to the scared girl, and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Come meet the rest of the family. You won’t meet Harold until later.”

          Tiffany frowned as she began to walk with the woman, ignoring the pain her feet were trying to cry out to her. She made it up to the door, and waited as the woman tried to find the right key to the front door. The small girl looked up at the figure that was stuck to the door. It was an angel holding up a ribbon that said, “Welcome Home”.

          She wasn’t into the details, but she was focused on something else.

          The wings.

          She looked at them, and frowned deeply as she felt her stitches starting to burn. She whimpered, but she didn’t know why.

          Why would a doll on the door make her back burn?

          She didn’t know, but she did know that she didn’t like it.