Broken Angel

Chapter one.

Nick carried the little girl with black matted hair that was sticky with blood. Nick's mind began to think about his record of theft. He began to remember when he robbed a gas station. It so happened to be the same gas station he was making his was to. It was an old broken down Pit Stop station with faded paint and water stains on the wooden walls. He began to wonder if taking the young girl from the scene would be considered theft. He then shook his mind off that and thought about what he had seen at the tattered old apartment complex.

The peeling old paint, the wedged open door, and the red stream had led to a pale bruised woman, who appeared to have been killed by the drunken man who stood over the dirty woman's body. His mind then raced on how the man almost killed the young girl, but then instead, killed himself. The red substance flew all over the dark damp room and even on Nick himself.

As his mind replayed all that had happened in the past few hours, he ended up tripping on a large pothole in the sidewalk. Luckily he caught himself with his left foot. His grip on the girl tightened, squeezing her until she squeaked out a high pitched noise. The sound that came from the girl was as if someone had stepped on a rat. Realizing that he may have hurt the poor girl he set her down on the ground next to the Pit Stop gas station to examine her.

Her head remained down as her eyes began to get heavy. She appeared fine. She was not acting differently than she was before. It appeared that she was just frightened by the tightening grip on her by Nick.

"Sorry." Nick whispered, while a white vapor of his breath passed his face. The girl was shaking but didn't say anything. Of corse. Nick picked the girl back up in his arms and held her closer. The little girl closed her eyes and began to fall asleep. The boy didn't pay much attention as he went back to think about the day.

As he continued to head to his apartment complex, the neighborhood began to get worse and worse. Cracks in the street were a normal thing and so were gangs. In fact, every turn he took there were groups of men in the corners smoking pot and laughing away. The tattered cloths and the broken down neighborhood showed how little money these people had.

He reached a two story dilapidated apartment complex. He carried the cold little girl up the concrete stairs to a chipped walkway that led to many different doors with their numbers above the doorway. Once he reached a door that held metal numbers '221', he managed to slip his keys out of his jacket pocket with one hand while the other held onto the girl. Once the key unlocked the hatch he pushed the creaky old door open to reveal a dirty small room that was supposedly to be the living room. He stepped in and flipped the switch on to bring light into the dark cold room. Nick then pulled the door to a shut and threw his keys on a small coffee table. He took the girl to his bedroom and laid her down on the bed.

He pulled the black comforter over the little girl as he sat on the edge of the bed and scratched his greasy head. Nick glanced at the young child and sighed.

"What am I going to do with you?" He whispered softly. The girl slowly opened her eyes and looked at Nick with a mixture of fear and gratitude. "What's your name?" He asked softly, but there was no reply. "Well, I guess I'll just give you a name until you're ready to talk." He stood and stretched and yawned. "How about Maddolin?" He looked at the girl but she showed no recognition.

He snickered and shook his head. "I'll take that as an okay." he then yawned a loud noise that sounded like a bear. "Well, sleep well Maddolin." He waved over to her then turned the light off and headed to his couch in the living room.

He sat down on the brown couch and pushed some cloths off the side onto the floor. He laid down and looked up at the dusty ceiling. "What am I going to do?" He whispered to himself. "Should've listened to Max." Nick shook his head. He soon found himself in a deep sleep.