The Phantom

Chapter One

ONE

The fire crackled at the stone hearth, warming the room. Bits of snow were swirling outside, and it was starting to get really cold.

Today was the 29th of January. Exactly one day before Victoria’s birthday…

“Vicky, you don’t really have to go.” Mother Elena, the keeper of the Foster Home that Victoria had been living all her life, spoke to her in a low voice. Pleading.

Victoria laughed nervously. Well, she saw this coming. She knew that she had to say goodbye soon. To everyone.

To everybody that she knew, to everything that she grew used to. She had to leave it all behind. But still, why was her throat suddenly thick? And why did her eyes suddenly felt itchy, as if she were going to cry?

She struggled to compose herself. “Actually, I think I have to. Or they might hold you responsible for keeping me. I’m almost eighteen now mother. Almost an adult. I can take care of myself.” Victoria tried to smile at her, but it came out as a grimace instead.

Something in her eyes moistened, and she was suddenly horrified. No, don’t cry…She told herself fiercely. You don’t cry, Vic. Never.

But she did cry, in spite of herself. As far as she could remember, this was the first time that she had ever cried with someone else watching.

Yet this was different. She was going to leave her home now—her shelter for almost 18 years and that included Mother Elena, too.

Mother Elena was not a nun or some kind of that sort. She was just simply a Mother to everyone in the Foster Home, as if she were really their own parent…

Somehow, she valued the little old lady. Mother Elena was in her early fifties now. But she looked younger than her age.

Her straight, brown hair—which framed her face perfectly down to her chin—was still vibrant a color despite her age that should’ve caused her to have gray hair.

Her eyes were a bluish-gray, and her face was pale. She looked as tiny as a doll; her lips were like that of a doll, too. Thin and pink. She usually didn’t have wrinkles, but her forehead was now crumpled as she considered the thought of Victoria leaving.

The little old woman’s face was forlorn and her eyes were wet. She was crying, too.

Mother Elena relied on Victoria too much, since she was the oldest kid there. Next to her (when it comes to age, and hopefully, maturity) was a barely15 year old boy, which was mentally challenged. Poor Brian, Victoria thought.

Again, for the very first time, she felt pity toward someone. Before this, she had always been annoyed at Brian for being such a nuisance in the Foster Care.

But now, being annoyed at him was the very last thing that Victoria could feel toward the boy. And then suddenly she felt angry at herself.

What was wrong with her? She had never liked Astoria’s Foster Care. She had never liked anyone there, except, of course, Mother Elena. She had never felt affectionate to anyone of them.

Victoria had never cared about anything than her own life. Until… now.

She actually felt guilty for being such a grouch toward the people around her. She just didn’t know what to do; she had never been taught properly on how to behave correctly…

But all of a sudden, she felt it. A deep, fresh stab inside her chest; it was like nothing that she’d ever felt before. A feeling of regret and loss.