Angel of Mine

by Jessica Louise

  Angel of Mine © 2013 Jessica Louise

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, Jessica Louise @ jessica_louise82@hotmail.com.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events of persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Cover – B Design.

  Editing – Katie Mac Indie Express: Katie Mac and Stephanie Harper Mulford.

  Formatting – Angela McLaurin, Fictional Formats.

  Disclaimer - This book is set in Australia with Australian characters. It often uses Australian terms and is written in Australian English.

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Author Preview 1

  Author Preview 2

  Manda,

  This is for you girl.

  Thank you for always being there for me. I couldn’t ask for a better best friend.

  Love you to pieces xoxo

  Sitting in my room, cross-legged in the middle of my bed, I write random thoughts in my journal. The softness of my mink blanket wraps around me, making me feel safe from the turmoil within. Scents of lavender from the oil burner drift by helping to soothe me. The words I am unable to share with any other person pour out of me and onto the paper.

  Hopelessly alone.

  Suffocating silence.

  Loveless.

  Unhappy.

  Numb.

  Why do I sit here, day after day,

  Night after night,

  Lump in my throat,

  Dreaming,

  Hoping,

  Forever hoping?

  I have this incredible longing, an unfulfilled desire, to go explore what is out in the world. Heck, I would even settle to be able to wander out in my own neighbourhood.

  I understand why Mum thinks it’s safest if I stay home. I honestly do, but I can’t remain hidden away forever. At some point, I’m going to have to be able to look after myself. I’m older now, wiser. Surely, I could resist temptation when I’m out in the world, couldn’t I? Whom am I kidding? I certainly could not resist it.

  13 years earlier...

  Mummy brought me to the park so I could play with James. She is talking to James’ mummy while we are on the swings.

  James is older than I am, and he can go extremely high. “You have to swing your legs real big, up and down,” he explains to me. I can feel the wind rush against my face as he moves. He goes up, up, up, and then falls off, and I hear a loud crunch.

  Both our mummies run over as James starts screaming. Giant tears are running down his face. They try to make him better by kneeling next to him and speaking softly, but it doesn’t work.

  I don’t want James to be hurt. Maybe if I give him the lollipop in my pocket he will be okay. Lollipops always make me feel better.

  I peek around Mummy’s legs at James. His arm looks strange. I reach out to touch it, wishing very hard that I could make his owie go away. Mummy tries to block me, but when James stops crying, she lets me pass.

  My hands have a strange light coming off them. They heat up and it’s as if an invisible rope pulls them towards him.

  Now my arm feels funny. No, it hurts! “Oww, Mummy, oww,” I scream in pain, “Oww!”

  We quickly learned that I always felt compelled to relieve the pain of others. We also found out that I was able to do so simply by touching those who are sick or injured and wishing them better. It sounds too good to be true, right? Wrong. Every single time I help someone, his or her troubles transfer to me. I have never found a way to avoid it.

  That day in the park, along with many similar instances after, left Mum unable to explain to onlookers what had occurred. A few were frightened, but mostly they just wanted to tell others about the “astonishing phenomenon” they had just witnessed. They immediately started pulling out their phones to spread the word to the world, causing a scene of utter chaos.

  Within moments, we would flee, abruptly upturning our lives again and again. If needed, we would make a brief stop at the emergency ward and then would frantically pack our essential items, flinging them by the armfuls into our worn leather suitcases and run.

  Mum is terrified of me becoming a government science experiment. The anxiety practically radiates off her. She has begged me to stop. Naturally, she cannot stand to see me relentlessly inflicting harm on myself. I have to be physically refrained from going to someone’s aid though. I believe the pull to help others is part of my ability, something within me that is out of my control. I was born to do this, I want to do this, and I can handle the pain. I will live; I am used to it now. It is such a gratifying feeling to be able to take away someone else’s pain for them. To be honest, I am somewhat addicted.

  After years of running, Mum constantly having to find a new job in another town, and pulling me out of countless schools, she decided it was safer if I got my education at home. I left the house as seldom as possible.

  So here I am, secluded from the world, in my room, writing in my journal. I have no friends to share all these thoughts with.

  My phone beeps pulling me from my memories.

  Mum- I will be home in 30 minutes. Would like to have a chat about something during dinner. Love you xoxo

  I inwardly groan and roll my eyes in typical teenager fashion, even though I am by no means a normal teenager. I collapse backwards on my bed with a loud thud.

  The same old lecture again. Great, I look forward to it. I realize heavy sarcasm isn’t an endearing quality, but I have to act like the average teenager whenever I get the chance.

  I push the food around my plate with a fork, not actually eating. The smell of butter chicken is wafting through the air, but it is not enticing me. An uneasy feeling rolls around in my gut. I just want to get this over.

  “Ally, you know I have always tried to do what is best for you,” Mum begins. Cringing, I slide further down in my chair. “In the past, you have been too young to understand the depths of the problems that may arise when you help people.” She pauses, staring at me and tapping her nails on the tabletop, clearly irritated that I am not paying her enough attention.

  Agitated by the whole conversation and the ongoing tap, tap, tap of her nails, I continue to frustrate her by fixing my eyesight on my thumbs, twiddling them in my lap. Realizing she is not going to get my attention anymore then she already has, she goes on, “However, I am aware I can’t protect you forever. You need to start living in the outside world on your own.”

  Letting hope trickle in, I
raise my head slightly. It suddenly feels lighter, and I let an enormous grin slowly cover my face. My sullen mood disappears, replaced with the erratic thump of my heart. I can see Mum is struggling with this, so I try to contain my excitement. With her features and posture wound tightly, she tries to hide her distress from me. She can’t quite mask the glazed over look in her eyes. I know she just wants to wrap me up and keep me safe.

  Reaching across to hug her, I summon up as much conviction as I can muster. “It will be okay Mum. We will take it slowly, one step at a time.” She hugs me back tightly and then relaxes. I feel more elated than I have in years.

  Keeping my promise to Mum of starting out slow, I told her I would take a short walk to the park near our house. I reasoned that it would be harmless and uneventful in the middle of a weekday. With a spring in my step, I bounded out the door towards my destination, calling over my shoulder that I wouldn’t be any more than half an hour.

  With plenty of time to spare, I knew I could afford a few stolen moments of peace lazing in the open space. Lying down, I lean back on my elbows and admire the towering oak tree hovering over me. If the size is any indication, it must be hundreds of years old. Others just like it are scattered all around the edges of the fields. Through the branches and leaves, in varying degrees of greens, browns and oranges, I see glimpses of blue from the sky above. Puffy white clouds are drifting by, continuously changing shape. This doesn’t seem like much, but to me it is so beautiful to be able to enjoy this moment.

  My arms are itchy from the ground beneath me, and my hair blows across my face from the light breeze, but I don’t care. I am out of the house, on my own. I inhale deeply, and that glorious clean smell of nature instantly rewards me, and I can even notice the hints of bark in the air from the tree behind me. I sigh, Ahh freedom, it’s fabulous.

  Dropping my gaze to scan the rest of the area, I find that it is fairly empty. The only sound is the leaves rustling in the wind, and I enjoy the silence. I think it is safe to say that the chances of me having to fight the urge to use my ability and help a person are slim. Closing my eyes, I relax and sink back into the grass. I feel the occasional autumn leaf float by as it falls to the ground. My body goes lax as I soak in the peaceful surroundings.

  I may have assured to Mum that this would be uneventful, but to me, this is the most exciting thing that I have done all year. No, make that the last ten years. I have led a mostly sheltered existence up until now. I am ecstatic to be out on my own, even if it is just here in the park.

  Voices in the distance rouse me from my mind’s wanderings, and make me more alert, even though their proximity is not close enough to make me look up. My mind lingers on the tone of a guy’s voice. It is deep and gravely, soothing me, making me feel as though it is wrapping around me like a caress. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I peer over.

  Wow! The view is magnificent. He looks even finer than he sounds. All tan, lean, and muscular, with scruffy brown hair and that’s just the back of him. I need to stop gawking. I strongly suspect that I may actually be drooling too. How attractive of me.

  As I ogle this exceptional guy playing football with whom I assume is a friend, I wipe at my traitorous mouth with the back of my hand and slide further back into the shadow of the tree. I tell myself I am not being a stalker; I just do not want him to notice me. If I get up and walk straight past them, I will undoubtedly draw unwanted attention to myself. It is not an option, so I press into the rough bark of the oak tree and stay put.

  As much as I wanted to be amongst the outside world, I am still extremely shy and not accustomed to interacting with others. This smoking hot guy is unquestionably not whom I fancy introducing me into the social world. The thought gives me sweaty palms and makes me nervous as hell.

  I may have been a recluse for most of my life, although, as innocent as this may have made me, it does not mean I have not had dreams of knowing what it is like to be in the arms of a man. Maybe all the pent up frustration I have from never getting to experience this is why I have a bizarre urge to move closer to him.

  The friend he is with doesn’t seem to have the same pull on what I assume is my hormones, though he is equally good looking. How odd. Knowing I would ramble like a bumbling idiot if I went over to him stops my urge to go near. I remind myself I am taking baby steps; there is no rush.

  “Ally, Ally,” I am jolted out of my trance by my mother rushing over to me, panic lacing her voice. Through her heavy breathing, she conveys what is wrong, “I was so worried about you. You said you would only be gone half an hour, and I tried to call your phone, only to realize you left it at home, and…” her hands are flying around, trying to emphasize her spiel. She is rapidly becoming hysterical and making no sense.

  “Mum, slow down. Why are you so upset? I’ve only been gone for…” I glance down at my watch. Three hours? Oh my goodness, I have been here, zoned out on ‘Mr. Hottie’ for three whole hours? Averting my eyes, I let out a guilty, “Oh.” Wrapping my arms around her, I rub soothing circles on her back with my palm until her breathing is back to normal. The refreshing smell of her light, floral perfume leads me to stay there a bit longer before I pull back and start apologizing profusely. When my conscious eases slightly, I hold my hand out to her, stare back at the makeshift footy field one last time, and then say, “I am sorry to have worried you. Come on Mum, let’s go home.”

  My lungs are burning as I drag massive gulps of air down my throat. I can almost taste the sunshine as it beats down on me, causing sweat to stream down my neck. Glancing across the expanse of the parklands, I take a moment to admire the endless fields surrounded by towering, strong oak trees before I take off. Just one more lap, I can do this.

  Circumstances have shown me that you cannot control everything that happens to you. That will not stop me from pushing my body to the limits, and making it do what I want it to. Motivation courses through me as I push even harder to get where the football landed.

  As I slow down and reach to pick it up, I notice a commotion on the other side of the park. A woman is speeding towards some chick under the oak tree. Her arms are flailing, and her voice is loud but trembling at the same time. The shadows partially hide them, and even as I squint, I cannot quite see what is going on. Something is obviously the matter. Before I get a chance to worry too much and wonder if I should offer help, I see their silhouetted forms hugging, and they seem calmer.

  As they start to walk away, I turn to my brother Alex, kick the ball towards him, and jog over. “Wonder what all that was about?” He questions motioning with a nod of his head to where the same scene I just witnessed took place.

  My only response is to shrug my shoulders and say, “Dunno man.”

  I’ve had enough for the day. “We better head back before our own mum turns ten shades of crazy on us.”

  Home. Nothing about this place screams home to me yet. I step around a pile of boxes we have yet to unpack; dust and musty odours permeate the air. Dropping to the couch, I wiggle around to get comfortable, and descend further into the plump suede cushions. Heaven. I could happily sit my ass down here all day. Shoot, if only the TV were set up.

  As I survey my surroundings, I notice the fireplace. It has an old stone hearth. The large stones range in different shades of grey, and appear cool and smooth, inviting me to run my hands over them, although I am far too exhausted and lazy to move. It has me itching to turn all pyromaniac. It’s a shame that it’s not anywhere near cold enough to use yet.

  My gaze drifts upward, taking in the high ceilings and wooden panelling, then back down again to meet the bare walls.

  The house is a blank canvas, and it is the perfect place for a fresh start. I can tell I am going to like it here. Mum was right; we needed to start anew. Too many unpleasant memories filled the old place.

  I hear the shuffling of feet in the hall moments before Mum calls out, “Theo?”

  “In here Mum,” I shout.

  Mum enters the room with a frown plast
ered on her face. “I hope you didn’t push yourself too hard. How are you feeling?”

  I shift uncomfortably where I sit. I honestly wish everyone would quit fussing over me and dwelling on the past. I don’t like feeling weak and babied; I want to be strong and independent again. I need to move forward and to concentrate on right now. “I am feeling good, stop worrying so much.” I try to convince her, but I don’t think speaking tightly through clenched teeth helped my argument.

  “Give the guy some space Mum.” Alex comes to my aid. “Are we on for another game again tomorrow bro? I want to make the most of my freedom before I have to go back to school.”

  Mum is shaking her head as she walks away, but she manages to bite her tongue.

  “You bet,” I reply with enthusiasm.

  Like every other day this week, I sit in the shadow of the oak trees, drinking up the site of ‘Mr. Hottie’ kicking around the footy. He is the same guy I lost my sanity over the first day I came to this beautiful park. Even though he is here every day, he doesn’t notice me. Each day I get a little more confident, inching closer towards where the shadows end, and the sunlight begins to bathe the open fields. I haven’t quite made it into the light yet though.

  His muscles flex as he runs, and the glistening sweat on his skin lures me in. My body moves on its own accord, slanting in his direction. I imagine his smell, all manly and salty from the sweat, and daydream of licking the trails of it down his body with my tongue. I breathe in deeply, but I am not near enough, and all I smell is the freshly cut grass of the fields.

  I find myself standing up, and as I step out into the light, it jars me out of my trance. It’s too late to turn back and hide as my shadow crosses his line of vision, and I am rooted to the spot. I am so close I could reach out and touch him.