Chapter Fourteen: The Little Girl with Scars
Copyright © by J. Faith Kenney
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission.
Waiting. Waiting to see if they even remember us as the seconds drag on like minutes. They don’t remember us. Not me at least. I look up to Zac, who is focusing on the door and only the door. Zac was likeable to everyone. Me, on the other hand, I pushed people away and hid in the barn away from everyone.
The door slowly begins to creak open, and my heart goes into my throat with my blood slowing down below a normal rate. With each passing second, it feels like the door is just going slower than humanly possible. Chills goes down my spine, my breaths catching in my throat. You’re just nervous. The door has always gone slow with its rusty hinges.
“Hello,” says a sweet southern woman’s voice that still sounds the same as when I was five. “Zac,” she says, embracing him in a hug as soon as she sees him. She sees me, and her smile gets wider. “Thela,” embracing me as well. “You guys have grown up to be so handsome and beautiful.” She pulls us in again, tighter, like a mother would do after not seeing her kids for a while.
Mrs. Abby still looks the same with her chocolate skin and jet black hair with natural brown highlights that are now turning to gray. She wears her gray proudly, letting her hair be natural. In the fifteen years I have known her, she’s never had a wrinkle in sight except for her smile lines. Her face is bright, round, and curvy, welcoming everyone.
“Hello, Mrs. Abby,” says Zac, his face falling into relief.
Mrs. Abby nods, wiping away a few happy tears that have fallen. She notices Tess and Lucas, and with a smile, nods to them as well. “I see you guys have brought some friends along with you. Where have my manners gone? Please, everyone come in.”
We all shuffle into the house, and Mrs. Abby hugs both Tess and Lucas as they enter. The front door opens to the dining room, where a large table that fits about twenty or more people, and the open kitchen off to the side with another side door that leads out to the yard. On the other side is an open doorway leading into the living room, where the laughter of kids fills every square inch.
Mrs. Abby motions us to take a seat at the large table. She sits at the head, smiling. Zac takes a seat by her, and I sit next to him. Then Tess and Lucas sit down, sitting the farthest away from Mrs. Abby.
“Sorry, Mr. Abby is not here right now, but he should be back very shortly. Are you guys alright? And I do mean all of you,” Mrs. Abby says in her gentle southern voice.
“We are alright, Mrs. Abby,” says Zac and looks to me for him to continue. “Mrs. Abby, we have been running through the woods.” He pauses, trying to find the right words. “On a trip to get away from the city for a while.”
“Oh, that sounds fun. Like I always said, cities are no place for me. Besides, the children love the country more, where they can run and play freely.”
“I remember,” I say, having memories of her saying that almost daily when I was younger.
“Mrs. Abby, do you mind if we stay here, just for one night?” asks Zac.
“Oh, heavens no, I wouldn’t mind.” She reaches out to touch Zac’s and mine hands. “I like having any of my children back here, it warms my heart. I will even give you guys fresh clothes to wear and shoes if you need them.”
“Thank you,” whispers Tess, just barely loud enough to hear.
“You’re welcome, sweetie. Dinner is in about two hours. You guys can take showers and clean up before then. And if you don’t mind, can I introduce you to the children? They love any adult interaction.”
“Yes,” I blurt out before I can even think.
I know the feeling of being an orphan, and interaction with adults is the best part. We get our hopes up, that the adult will take us home, and if they don’t, well it was fun while it lasted.
Mrs. Abby turns to me with the warm smile of a proud mother. “Alright then. Down the hall are the shower rooms. On the left is the boys, and the right is the girls. Here, let me go get you guys some clean clothes and shoes before you go get cleaned up.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Abby,” Zac says to her as she gets up from the table.
She smiles down at him, just an inch taller than Zac sitting down, and pats him on the hand before leaving the room.
Within a few seconds, Mrs. Abby comes back with clothes in her hands and two pairs of shoes resting on top. She sets the shoes down and hands Zac and Lucas black t-shirts and black pairs of pants. Mrs. Abby hands Tess a dark blue shirt with some black leggings, and me a pair of black leggings as well.
“Sorry, all I have left is one of my old scrubs tops that I haven’t fit in for years, probably since I was around your age,” says Mrs. Abby as she hands the top to me.
My heart explodes with happiness as my eager hands take the plum colored scrubs shirt. I will gladly take it. It reminds me of being a Caretender, which is like a home to me.
“That is fine, it is my outfit of my choice,” I say with a smile, and she smiles back handing me a pair of old, but in good condition, black sneakers.
We all head to the showers, thanking Mrs. Abby again as we leave.
. . .
I am the last to get into the shower, as well as the last one to leave. The scrubs top brings me so much joy even though I am not going to work. It brings me hope that maybe someday I will wear scrubs and go to work at The Helping Care Shelter again. Maybe someday.
I brush out my hair, getting out all of the curly tangles before putting it up in a French braid. My baby hairs already start to curl before they even get a chance to dry, going into their natural state.
Before leaving the girls shower room completely, I clean it up like Tess and I were never there, so Mrs. Abby doesn’t have to. After all, we are older and don’t even live here anymore. We are not the kids she is taking care of anymore.
It surprises me how everything still looks the same, and I still know my way around like it is my childhood home. In a way it is. I guess some things never really change, even after so many years. The house is warm and comforting like it always has been, and it feels like I am visiting my parents’ house—if only I knew that real feeling. This house that I resented as a child now feels like a second layer of skin, like a warm, welcoming hug.
Kids’ screams of laughter fill the halls, rattling my thoughts but putting a smile on my face. Zac’s body catches my eyes. He is on his knees on the floor with little kids surrounding him. I stand in the doorway to watch, not quite going into the kitchen, where Tess and Mrs. Abby talk softly.
The kids tackle Zac, and he “falls” to the ground as they pile on top of him, pinning him down. Laughter and high pitched voices take over the living room, everyone having a good time.
“All you guys got me,” says Zac in a childish voice, playing along.
Some of the kids get off, laughing as their faces turn bright red, and some others fall on Zac, laughing even harder. I can’t wipe a smile from my face as my heart fills with awe and warmth at the sight.
With only two kids remaining, each no more than six years old, Zac stands up, holding on to the kids so they won’t fall. They scream with laughter as Zac spins them around with the others laughing and trying to jump on him.
Zac catches me staring and smiles at me as he sets the kids down gently to the ground.
“Again, again,” cry the kids, smiling as others cling to his legs.
“Not right now, guys,” he says, shaking his legs. The kids roll off, and Zac walks over to me. “Have you guys met Thela?” He wraps his arm halfway around me to pull me over.
“Hi, guys,” I say with a wave, using the voice I used for the little kid patients at the Shelter.
One of the little girls runs up to me and hugs my legs, coming up to my mid-thigh. Gently, I place my hand on her back, giving it a little rub. She backs away smiling, and I smile down to her before she runs away to a group of girls around her own age. Within seconds they are all playing again.
Zac turns to me with a goofy, proud smile. He looks at the scrubs top, then to my eyes. “I see you are wearing scrubs. That is your fashion of choice,” he whispers to me so I am the only one to hear.
“I will wear scrubs for the rest of my life, even if I am not a Caretender anymore,” I whisper back.
He takes a step closer to me and takes my hand. “You are a Caretender, Thela, and you still are the best.”
“Thanks, Zac,” I say, his words meaning more to me.
He nods. “How long were you standing there?”
“Long enough to see you will be a great father someday.”
Zac gives me a small smile and nods because it’s his turn to say thanks. A thank you that means the world to him, but a thanks is the only word we can say. “Thanks, Thela.”
“Zac, Zac spin us again! Please, pretty please,” asks a little boy with a group right behind him, all smiling.
Zac looks at me with a small smile we share before he turns to the kids with a bigger one. “Okay, who wants to go first?” he asks in his childish voice.
Joyful laughter fills the whole house as Zac gets chased, and they catch him by tackling him again. I offer one last smile before slipping out of the doorframe and going into the kitchen to help out with whatever I can.
Tess and Mrs. Abby are laughing with smiles on their own faces. The whole mood in the house is happy with no worries to bring us down. Both of them turn to me with warm smiles acknowledging my presence.
“Here, Thela, you can cut up the vegetables,” Mrs. Abby says, moving things over on the counter to make room for the cutting board and knife.
I take the job easily with a warm smile matching theirs. Tess gets all of the plates and silverware, placing them on the table. Mrs. Abby looks up to me and smiles, her kind soul showing and saying, Forget your worries.
“Brings a smile to your face seeing Zac playing with the little kids, does it?” she asks like a mother would.
Nodding, I look up to her before looking back to the vegetables. “It does. One day he is going to make a great father. Maybe it’s because he is a big kid himself,” I say, chuckling to myself.
“A big kid indeed, but even as a little one he always knew what was important to him, and who he wants to protect.”
I set the knife down and look up to her, knowing exactly what she is talking about. Mrs. Abby smiles, her eyes beaming. All I can do is nod before turning back to the vegetables to finish cutting them up. A gentle silence falls between us, but not for long.
“Did Zac become a Protecttender like he always wanted to?” asks Mrs. Abby.
“Yeah. He is really good, and is a High Ranked Protecttender with a lot of people who respect him.”
“And how about you, dear? Did you become a Caretender?”
My throat dries up, with tears threatening to fall. “Yeah.” My voice thin and raw. “Tess was actually one of my patients.”
“I always knew you two would be something great. Before the orphanage I was actually a Caretender, part of the reason I opened this place. Back then, when I was only twenty years old, people thought I was crazy for doing such a thing. But I knew it needed to be done because there were so many lost children, parentless. Way back then, so many years, decades ago, kids who were alone stayed alone until—well, they were alone until death.”
“You saved them, helped them, and cared for them even when no one else would?” I ask, turning to her.
“Yeah. Seeing you and Zac, even now as adults, just reminds me why I started doing this in the first place, because every kid has a purpose, a life to live.”
A tear runs down my face as I pull Mrs. Abby in for a hug, with a smile and a thank you for my life.
“Is dinner almost ready?” asks Zac, walking into the kitchen toward me and Mrs. Abby and taking a piece of carrot.
We all turn our attention to him with smiles on our faces.
“In about thirty minutes,” Mrs. Abby says. “Really we are just waiting for the chicken to finish cooking. You guys can go out to the barn to take a break for a while.”
“Are you sure, Mrs. Abby?” asks Tess.
She nods. “I can finish cutting up the veggies. They are not a big deal.”
We all nod before leaving through the side door to the fresh air. Tess runs to the barn, and I am about to follow in her footsteps, but Zac grabs my arm and pulls me closer to him beside the house.
“What?” I ask lightly, but see the almost worried to the bone expression he wears with his body tense. “What is wrong?” I ask with concern and my own worries.
“I need to talk to you. I wasn’t going to say anything, but I just can’t stop thinking, seeing it over and over in my mind.” He grabs my hand, playing with my fingertips with his. “When we were trapped or kidnapped, whatever you want to call it, you stopped the bullets—no, I don’t care you did that.” He looks deeper into my eyes, taking a step closer to me and holding my fingers with his. “You died, Thela,” he says, his voice just above a whisper.
I pull my hand away, rubbing my hands together and not looking up to him. “I stopped the bullets because I manipulated them. It is part-”
“You scared me, Thela. I thought I lost you forever.”
My eyes turn back to him, seeing the fear in his eyes, but not because I am a Neuroner “I didn’t die though.”
“I saw your heart stop.”
“But I didn’t die in real life. My brain was still functioning just fine. When that happened, I was pulled somewhere, and don’t ask me where because I don’t know.” My voice thin with frustrated tears burning my eyes. Not frustration at Zac, but at the memory of it and not understanding what all happened to me.
I can’t explain it, because I don’t even understand it. I want to tell you more, Zac, I really do, but can’t because I don’t know how.
“Look, Zac, I am different and you know that. I can’t tell you things because you won’t understand. I don’t even understand it all, and it’s in my own mind.” I pause and Zac looks deeper into me but lightens up with understanding.
He sees me trying to figure it out and doesn’t push for more information, making me more frustrated with the situation, and for that I am truly thankful. Grabbing his hand, I look into his eyes with our look that says everything will be okay—eventually.
Over Zac’s shoulder, the little girl with scars appears off in the distance. A shiver washes over me like a bitter cold wave. It looks like she is smiling, though it’s hard to tell from the scars and distance, but I don’t miss her little nod. My nightmares have arrived, and I can see her in real time, but I can’t be afraid of her. She is me, carrying all of the pain.
“Thela?”
Zac’s voice brings me back to the present, but the little girl with scars doesn’t disappear. “I’m fine,” I breathe, not taking my eyes off her. “Zac, I am filled with scars. Mentally and physically scars that I have to live with. These are dark, dark scars that scare me to death, and maybe one day they will. But can you promise me something, again?”
“Of course.”
My throat tightens and tears fall as I look up to his eyes. “No matter what my mind throws at me to scare me—to make me think that I am a monster, afraid to look at myself in the mirror, you won’t turn on me in a cruel way. Because I don’t think I can handle any more scars.”
“Thela, I am never going to turn on you.”
“But if you do, you will be honest and not try to get revenge on me?”
“Thela-”
I stop him with a pleading look, and he looks down, nodding his head yes. The little girl with scars follows me to the barn and disappears as soon as I lie down. My head pounds for the little girl with scars and everything she means.
. . .
Dinner comes and goes in a blur as my head spins from the little girl with scars and from not sleeping properly for the last two weeks. My body aches in ways I never knew it could. Every single muscle and organ in my body—especially my mind—is running out of any source of energy.
Right after dinner I go to the barn where all of us are going to sleep for the night on cots. Tess follows me in, going to a cot in the corner as I go to the one in the opposite corner.
As soon as my head hits the cot, I am out like a light. I am dead tired from sleeping on a table, and my body needs the rest.
🧠
Light raindrops touch my skin, and a cold breeze chills my bones. Harsh streetlights shine overhead, showing the way to an alley of townhouses in a town. The feeling of this memory is foggy like a storm clearing up, and it’s not mine.
Screaming, crying echo off the alley walls, and my vision clears all the way. On the steps leading up to a townhouse in the middle is a red thing making the noise. I cross the alleyway, getting closer to the steps to see clearer.
Screaming cries still bounce off the wall. In plain view there is a red stroller bassinet and something inside. Oh my god, it’s a baby all alone. Tears or rain or both stain the baby’s cheeks, and it seems like the screams are getting louder, echoing back, mocking it to remind it that it is all alone.
The locks on the door to the townhouse click as they are unlocked before the door opens. Mrs. Abby—the younger twenty year old version appears in the doorway. It’s her memory. The memory of how the orphanage came about.
Mrs. Abby looks around to see if anyone is around, and of course no one is. She looks at the baby and looks around again to make sure there is no one with remorse for the baby. She picks the baby up carefully and holds it close to her chest to keep it warm. The baby stops crying, cuddling closer to her chest, and Mrs. Abby holds it tighter like it is her very own.
“Shh, shh, it’s okay, little one,” whispers Mrs. Abby in a calm soothing tone. “I am here to help you. Shame on the person who left you in this cold weather on a rainy night like tonight.”
She comes down her steps, looking around with worry and fear. “Everything will be alright. Don’t worry, I won’t let the city kill you. I will change this for the world, and I will do it for you to be safe.” With one last look around, she pulls the baby closer to her chest, holding on to it for dear life.
What? They killed kids who were abandoned? My throat tightens at the possibility of me being killed, and my breath catches at the thought of Zac being killed. No wonder society laughed at Mrs. Abby, because they hate change. Even though it changed the world for the good to save so many kids. She saved me. She saved Zac. We owe her our lives.
Mrs. Abby starts sprinting in and out of the alleys, and I try my best to keep up with her. I am running as fast as I can, but she still is faster and knows the way around the alleyways better than I do. Her figure weaves in and out of the streetlight, escaping into darkness and holding the baby for dear life.
With each step, my legs scream for me to stop, but I keep going. My lungs scream for oxygen, and my heart beats faster and faster. The younger vision of Mrs. Abby turns a corner so fast, ducking into darkness.
My legs turn but my knees buckle underneath me. I crash to the ground with a scream for dear life. All I can see is nothing but darkness. The only sound, loud in my ears, is my heavy breathing. Besides my chest, my own body is still unable to move as the world goes still. Everything—the world, the memory—is gone, and only darkness follows.
Someone or something grabs my wrist, sinking their nails into my skin close to my veins.
“AHHHH,” I scream in agony.
The world around me spins, faster than what is possible, causing my head to spin in darkness. Everything is gone, and I hit the ground hard, knocking me unconscious.
My eyes open after I don’t know how long. Everything is blurry with nothing coming into focus. Closing my eyes again, I let the numbing pain be the only thing I feel, except for the stinging bruises on my wrist. This may not be real, but it sure feels real when my muscles spaz.
A light foot kicks me in the shoulder, shaking me. My eyes open and again everything is blurry, but it comes into focus. Staring down at me, right in the eyes, is the little girl with scars. Slowly, I pull myself up to sit, and the little girl with scars takes a step back, still staring at me.
I look around to the dead, black trees and dead grass. The sky overhead is dark gray with a fog, not a single white cloud in sight, and no sun as well. No birds, only big black crows circling overhead like they are stalking their prey.
“Am I dead?” I ask the little girl with scars, looking at her.
She shakes her head no, not taking her scarred eyes off of me. “Your heart beat is very slow, but whenever you come here, that will happen.” Her voice is a child’s voice—my voice, but filled with pain that can never be masked.
“Can I die?” She doesn’t answer and I know what that means. I look around again to the darkness before looking at her. “What is this place?”
“This place is where I live. This place is in your own mind, holding in all of the scars.” She pauses and her eyes look elsewhere for the first time. “Thela, I will be here, because I am-”
“Me,” I finish. She looks back to me with a smile and nod.
I know who she is. I know what she represents, each of her scars telling a new story. Stories I may not even know or remember.
“Why am I here?” I ask, trying to keep from freaking out.
“I want to show you something. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” she answers back simply.
Thinking over my answer as I hesitate, I swallow my fears down before answering. “I will go.” My voice weak.
She nods and holds out her hand. Tentatively, I raise my hand to her, not knowing what is going to happen. The little girl with scars grabs my wrist harshly and digs her nails into my veins, as if knives of darkness are filling my bloodstream.
“Ahhhh, ahhhh!” screaming with the pain as I try to pull my hand away, but she doesn’t let go.
Tears blurs my vision as blood runs down my arm, dripping onto the dead ground. “Ahhh, ahh!” My screams calm down to a cry matching my heavy breaths.
Gradually, the pain fades away but some lingers in my bloodstream. My eyes open, adjusting to the light in the office building. Lily, around eighteen years old, sits behind the desk with black glass windows behind her. She sits with power and a smile that tells me she knows she is the one with the most power in this room. My head turns slightly to the two chairs on the other side of the desk to see our mom and dad.
“Is this a scar?” I ask, looking at the little girl with scars beside me.
She nods, watching the scene unfold as well.
“I want Thela back,” Lily says with angry power. “I want to use her for her gift. Get her back.”
“We can’t, we left her and now she is dead,” explains my father with fear, but sadness takes over for their lost daughter—me.
Lily leans on the desk and looks coldly into our father’s eyes, making me shiver. She slams her fist down on the desk, her fingernails piercing her own skin. “I and everyone in this room knows that is not true. We all know she is alive, and I want her back. I don’t care how you do it.”
“You’re going to kill her. Thela is not ours anymore,” pleas our mother. “She is safe and has a better life.”
Lily turns her head to our mother, stealing her soul with her eyes. “What are you trying to say, Mother? That you gave up the wrong child, that IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME!” Lily jumps up from her seat and comes around the desk within seconds, her stare of coldness not wavering.
“No, honey.” Our mother’s voice trembles. “It’s just that-”
“That what? That I work as a Techtender in the program for Neuroners and do studies on them with technology that we make here.” Lily looks at each of them with underlying pain in her eyes, but she keeps her guard of power. “Bag them.” Her voice flat and she turns away as two large men enter the room.
Lily keeps her back to them, looking out the window to the city below. Unable to turn around from the sight, I watch in horror what the men do to my parents. A sock goes into their mouths, muffling their screams and their begging. I don’t know if that is for Lily’s benefit or for the world’s. Bags go over their heads, and ropes are tied around their limbs.
The setting of the office changes into a new area somewhere far in the woods. The two men holding my parents, still bagged, are on a bridge with waves crashing alongside the riverbank, like it is my heartbeat getting drowned by the water. Lily is nowhere to be found, only the large men.
Both men tie weights around my parents before picking them up and throwing them in the water like they are pieces of trash. The splash echoes through my ears, mocking me with their deaths. My whole body goes cold and numb. I am unable to unsee how they die.
“NOOOOO!” I scream with hot tears burning my face, and I can’t even run to the edge of the bridge. A force is holding me back.
No one can hear me, only the little girl with scars. I can’t stop this from happening, because it already happened. I can’t do anything, but only scream and cry.
The little girl with scars touches me and snaps her fingers. I don’t feel the pain in my wrists. No pain is greater than the sight I just saw. We are back in the gloomy, dead, foggy place in my mind. She lets me sob and scream with pain for the loss for a few minutes, to let me calm down.
“I have scars that you do know exist, but then a lot more scars that you don’t know exist at all,” states the little girl with scars.
I look up to her as I catch my breath, nodding and trying to think—trying to form a single sentence.
“Is that why you—I mean we—have so many?” My voice trembles with the horror still fresh. She nods, looking straight into my eyes. “But my parents—Lily killed our parents, she-she…” My voice trails off. I am unable to finish the sentence, or even accept that it is possible, but I know it is.
“It’s time for you to wake up, Thela. You have been in here for too long, and if you stay longer with this pain, you will die because your heart can’t take it anymore,” she says, sitting down in front of me.
All I can do is nod and give her my wrist. Her nails dig into my skin so close to the veins. I scream from the pain without even realizing it. My head spins with darkness that I never wanted to know or see.