Saving Greer ((Prequel to "Red on my Ledger"))

Chapter 2

Chapter

Greer

Her mother had always told her that she had too much confidence for her own good.

Yet, as she stared out of the foot-to-ceiling window, all her confidence had drained from her body--left with someone inferior to those around her. With her glossy eyes and sleepless, ghost-like face, the girl looked as though a shadow from that of that day two years ago.

Rain beat against the window, pouring down onto the streets below, lit up by the waning moon that flashed against the sea of grey clouds. The room was dark and cold around her, causing goosebumps to form on her arms and neck as though a breeze had escaped the closed window. The large room she was in seemed empty, despite the many girls sleeping on the bunks that were stacked in lines on the floors, their soft inhales and exhales filling the foggy room.

She covered herself with her arms, giving a small shudder from the cold as she slowly turned towards the door that stood about ten feet away from her. Careful not to make any noise, she stepped her feet from heel-to-toe, her toes bending slowly on the hardwood floor, which was cold from the late winter chill.

She made her way towards the door, raising her hand towards the brass doorknob. Slowly she turned the knob and gave a small pull towards her, the door giving a small groan of protest. Greer flinched at the noise, no longer moving to ensure she did awake any children, before she opened the door a bit wider, allowing her to step into the dark hallway.

She strained to see past the darkness as she took a cautious step forward, slowly shutting the door behind her and she took a couple steps forward, her hand finding the flat side of the wall. Her finger slid across the blue paint as she walked through the wired labyrinth of hallways, her hands never leaving the wall as she took in her surroundings.

Her feet were silent against the grey carpet and she took closer steps into the darkness that crowded the multiple doors lining the walls--filled with children of multiple ages, looking for a permanent home. Greer knew she wouldn't find one in this big, lonely mansion.

Finally, the darkness broke, revealing the light of the kitchen, bouncing off the walls, guiding Greer towards the smell of chicken baking. In a questioning manner, Greer cocked her head for a moment, following the growling, dinner-less noise in her stomach, knowing very well she could get in much trouble for sneaking food without their permission. Greer's right shoulder was tired from moving around her messenger bag from place to place.

She seemed to become knocked out of her trance when she heard the hushed voice of the couple she had been introduced to yesterday. Realizing her mistake, Greer quickly softened her steps, keeping her right shoulder against the hallway as she approached the corner, the voices becoming closer and closer, allowing her to interpret their words.

"I know," the girl heard a feminine voice sigh, followed by a series of clicking noises as if she was turning on the stove. Slowly, the sweet smells of the food increased, spreading warmth throughout Greer's body and she felt as though she was going to vomit from hunger. "It's a shame that she was diagnosed."

"I feel bad for the poor kid," a man's voice stated to which Greer cocked her head, her waist-length, frizzy brown hair tumbling down her shoulders questionably as she listened closer, taking a cautious step forward towards the light, wondering now who she happened to stumble into the conversation of. "I mean, she can't stay in a place for more than a week."

"Yeah," agreed the woman and Greer listened to another clicking noise, as though nails tapping a table in thought. "I'm sure it's for the best. A busy man like Phillip Coulson couldn't handle a child."

"I still think it's unfair that he doesn't know about the girl," the man stated gruffly and stubbornly.

"Fury means well. After all, if someone against SHIELD were to get their hands on the girl...." The woman trailed off, leaving the unfinished analogy hang in the air, as though the possibility was fog in front of their faces.

Greer suddenly felt the pit in her stomach grow into her throat and she felt her eyes gloss over with frustration, the light radiating from the chandelier, dangling over the kitchen table, did little to mask the darkness inside of her, closing in from the corners, wrapping around her stomach. Her mind rushed to conclusions that they were talking about her, yet she knew that this idea was a rushed conclusion. There were about forty other children inside of the government-payed mansion, yet Greer's instincts somehow knew what they were discussing.

Greer felt fear coat her stomach and she took an involuntary step backwards, almost tumbling into the wall. She felt her breath quicken and her heart rate jump in her chest as the deadly sentence filled her mind, flashing behind her eyes: If someone were to get their hands on the girl.

Her mind was no longer working, emotions coating her insides, filling her with a pacing adrenaline. She had no time to comprehend what she was hearing and a part of her wanted to forget what she had stumbled upon, wishing she was in the cold bed that would never supply her warmth. She turned then, the words of the middle-aged couple in the kitchen jumbled now, as though they were speaking gibberish.

She felt as though her vision was fuzzy and the adrenaline made her body warm, no longer feeling the winter chill. Her vision became fuzzy and she felt as though the five minute trip through the house felt as though hours. She felt as though her footsteps were banging off the walls, weights wearing down on her feet. She knew not of what she was planning to do for she had lost her head in the swarm of lies and confusion.

It seemed as though it was hours later when she made it back into the room, shutting the door behind her. She stood in the darkness for quite a while, her vision a bit blurry from anger, though she had not comprehended her reasoning. She felt her heart rate slow, reminding herself to keep her breathing controlled, yet her anger kept her face clenched as she stepped into the room and followed the row of bunk-beds towards her own.

She bent down towards it, placing her left hand on the floor as she leaned forward, sliding her other hand under the bed. she felt around past the smooth floor, her hand finding the clutch of her messenger bag and she pulled it out, setting it onto the small, twin-sized bedspread, that was scratchy from the woolen material. Her hand finding the latch on the backpack, she swung the material open, revealing her sketchbook, stuck underneath the pocket of the grey, soft material. She swiftly pulled out her sketchbook, not coming up from her kneeling position as she felt around for the pencil, sharpened from the blade of a pocket knife.

She swung the notebook opened to an opened page, turning past all the half-hearted pictures, made at an attempt to distract her mind from her insanity. She placed the pencil onto the empty page, her hand scribbling two simple words onto the page, a name--a reminder of what she was planning to do. Why she was planning to do it.

She had thought about what she was planning to do for many years, yet it seemed to dawn on her as she stuffed a pillow underneath the blanket, making it look as though preoccupied and made her way towards the door once again, adrenaline pumping her veins.