Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Guardian Angel ❯ Guardian Angel ( Chapter 1 )

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

No, no, no… She couldn't be… gone… I couldn't bring myself to say or even think the word dead. Tears trickled involuntarily down my cheeks as I gaze longingly at her, scrutinizing her angelic face for every little detail. How I wished for her to open her eyes and come back to me, back into my arms. I longed to see her hair cascade around her shoulders, her triumphant smile, her graceful stroll. I watched as the lid on the box in which she eternally slept began to close, as in slow motion to my eyes. This suggested an end between us, one that I could not stand. I leapt forward and caught the lid with my hand, shoving it back. Then I wept.

I begged, pleaded for her to come back, for her to wake up. I cried angrily; mad at her, mad at myself, mad at the world. I grabbed her cold hand and clutched it desperately, unwilling to let go. When at last I felt a hand on my shoulder and see the priest, with tears in his eyes, I knew it was time to part. I lifted her hand and brushed my lips against her cold skin. A last kiss? Not really. It was just the beginning, really, of my life without her. I could only hope that she remain my guardian angel. The lid finally closed, and I sank to my knees. All was lost. Everything that I had ever cared for, ever loved, now… was gone. I'm sorry, Charlotte , I'm so sorry. You see, everything was my fault.

I really don't know my age; I assume I'm around 15 or 16. I think Charlotte was about the same. Well, I was placed in the orphanage's care when I was very young. I guess I was one of those doorstep babies who no one wanted. The Headmistress treated me terribly, constantly beating me with sticks. So one day, I decided to escape. I think I was around 10 at the time. I walked out the door with my coat and meager belongings in the middle of the night, and that was it. No policemen, no alarms, nothing at all. I wandered around for a while, then happened to come across a quarter. I bought a slice of bread and was about to take a bite when I saw Charlotte .

I didn't know her name just yet. Actually, I thought she was a fallen angel, but never mind that. I saw her in the street, motionless, her golden hair splayed on the pavement. Just then I heard a horn blare. A truck was coming toward her at sixty miles an hour. I dashed into the street, scooped her up, and dove out of the way just in time. She was half starved, and couldn't remember anything, but agreed to be my friend. You don't know how happy I was to have a friend. Later, our relationship became more intense. We lived as nomads in the city for four years; the four happiest years in my life, despite the bad food and uncomfortable sleeping quarters.

Then the other day, I saw something shiny in the road, as shiny and glittery as gold. So I ran into the street to claim it before anyone else. Suddenly, I heard a truck's horn blare, exactly like two years ago. I looked up and saw a truck coming at me. I was so afraid, it was like I was paralyzed; I couldn't move at all. Then something pushed me away, and I slumped on the sidewalk, out of the path of the truck. I lifted my head and made out Charlotte 's figure, in the glare of the bright headlights rushing toward her. I tried to yell, to scream at her to move away, but there she stood, paralyzed as the truck came closer. The truck just… ran over her. It was horrid. The truck driver couldn't care less about running over a peasant girl and didn't even slow down.

I ran over and cradled Charlotte between my arms. I could tell that she was fatally wounded. Her ribs were crushed, her arm and leg bones snapped. Charlotte soundlessly moved her lips. She had wanted to talk to me. I leaned in closer, to hear.

She whispered painfully, “Theodore, when you saved me, I became yours; and now, I gave my life back to you.”

All the while, I'm shaking my head, unable to speak. “No,” I finally choked out. “I'm not worth it. You should have saved yourself and let me die.”

“Theodore, my love, you are worth it,” she shot back fiercely, despite her condition. “Promise me you won't go off yourself.”

“I won't,” I cried.

“Don't be too sad.” Charlotte coughed weakly, gasping for breath. “I love you.” She smiled, sighed, and closed her eyes, going limp in my arms.

“No,” I whispered, “no, NO, NO!” I shook her. “Please don't die, Charlotte , I love you too much. Don't leave me alone!” But in my heart I knew she was gone.

So I used up all my life savings for the funeral and hand-carved a tombstone, crying unstoppably. Charlotte was buried in a grassy plain that not many people went to. I don't know how long I had sat there in that vast plain mourning. I didn't know anything but my own pain and grief.

When I woke up, I was in a hospital. Someone put bread in front of my mouth, so I ate it. I didn't move unless I had to, and didn't try to focus in on anything except all the sadness I had been through.

“Poor thing, he's in shock.” I heard one of the nurses say. Everything I did reminded me of the accident. I had nightmares every night. I watched as the truck ran over Charlotte over and over again. I looked down at her broken body and the bloody pavement.

One day, the head nurse brought someone to meet me. Her name was Rose, and her parents had died in a car crash. This began to stir some of my feelings before all the pain and grief. I looked into her sad, brown eyes and smiled, the first time in weeks. The nurse noted this response.

Then everyday afterward, Rose came in to sit with me. I began to talk, to open up to her, and she listened. Rose helped me to tuck away my thoughts of Charlotte . Not locked up, just tucked away

She talked to me too. She told me about the fun times she had had with her parents, and I told her about the time Charlotte and I snuck into a movie theater to watch a movie, and didn't get caught. It was a romantic movie, one that we both laughed and cried in. I didn't tell her that many details; I noticed how uncomfortable that made her. In fact, I wondered if our relationship had progressed past just friendship…

We were sent back to the orphanage on the same day. The Headmistress didn't recognize me one bit, and now that I had gotten quite tall, she had second thoughts about beating us. Rose and I looked after each other. Everything was fine, up until the day we progressed up to our first kiss.

It was the perfect moment, the perfect time. We were just talking about randomly interesting things, leaning against the orphanage wall, when I felt this tingling in my hand. My hand inched towards hers, and slowly grasped it. I looked at her, anticipating a bad reaction. Rose looked at our intertwined hands, smiled, and we continued our conversation. Well, after another while, she leaned toward me slowly until her head touched my shoulder. I made no move to stop this; I liked it.

We sat in silence, enjoying each other's company for the longest while, until Rose whispered, “Theodore, um…” She lifted her chin hesitantly, searching. I complied, and kissed her, a soft and compassionate kiss. I instantly felt guilty. Charlotte ! What about Charlotte ? I broke away roughly.

“I'm sorry, Rose, I can't,” I stammered. Then I turned and fled. Rose chased after me, out the door of the orphanage.

“Theodore, I don't understand - I …” She desperately tried to catch up to me. Her footsteps abruptly stopped, and I turned around to see that she had fallen. Her eyes were full of sadness and helplessness. Yet she got up, and started chasing me again. I saw how much this pained her; she must have twisted her ankle.

I kept on running. I sprinted into the mall and up three flights of stairs until I found the door that was labeled Roof. I pushed right through that door and stood, blinking in the sunlight. Charlotte and I had discovered this place years ago. It was our romantic spot. I sat down, legs hanging over the edge. My tears were flowing freely. Would anyone care if I jumped? I was just a useless orphan.

Just then, the door banged open. I spun around. It was Rose. “Theodore, don't!”

“This is my destiny,” I replied.

“No, Theo, don't do this to me,” Rose cried in panic. “There must be another way!”

“There isn't. Life has given me too many hardships. I'd rather die than keep on going.” I'd stopped crying. I felt calm, ready for anything, even accepting my death.

“If you must, I shall jump with you,” wept Rose. “You are the only thing I have, the only one I can trust. I don't know what I'd do without you.”

“No,” I protested. “Rose, you have to stay here, alive.”

“I can't, I won't, without you!”

As much as I wanted to die, I couldn't let Rose accompany me. I picked up a stick. “Rose, look over there!” I hit her over her head with the stick, and caught her as she collapsed. Her head was bleeding, but not too much. Good. I dropped the stick and ripped off my shirt. I laid her head down on it. Then I got ready to accept my fate.

I walked toward the edge, serene as ever. I was going to jump, but I tripped on the stick instead. I closed my eyes as I toppled over the top of the building.

The air got colder. It took me a while to realize I wasn't going anywhere. I looked up. Charlotte had caught me. Yes, Charlotte. Her spirit had come back to save me.

“Remember what you promised,” she whispered. “Take care of Rose.” As she said this, I heard a moan, and saw Rose stirring. She woke up, wincing at the pain. Then she saw me, at the edge of the building. Of course, she couldn't see Charlotte holding me there. She hurried toward me, limping on her bad leg, determined to save me.

Tripping over the same stick, I stared as Rose tumbled over the edge of the building. My fingertips brushed against hers as I struggled to reach her. Charlotte set me upright, and soared toward her. But not quite fast enough. I heard the crunch as she hit the pavement below, and saw her broken body and her head lifelessly staring into space. Charlotte dissolved into nothing, shooting a last remorseful look at me.

I heard a horn blare for the third time in my life, and looked up to see a truck run over Rose's body, making it a bloody mess. I stared, in horror, for this, certainly, was the definition of déjà vu.

Then, I wept, again, for the only two girls I have ever loved in my life.