My Patchwork Child

Chapter Two

2

Pain swelled in my leg. I opened my eyes slightly in discomfort. Grunting in annoyance, I rubbed my face in the hay, trying to hide. My leg wailed at me. I tried to block it out, but it hurt so much.

I lifted my head, supporting myself with my weak arms. My long, blonde hair, covered in straw from the barn, swung down the side of my head, over my shoulder. I turned over, so I was on my back. Alden was still sleeping by my side. I gazed softly at him. His breathing was gentle and his sides rose and fell in time with the husky huff. I remember smiling for only a second, before my ankle went into a sharp pain. I hissed in discomfort.

'You alright?' Alden woke up. Sitting up, he wrapped his arm round my shoulder for a moment.

'Not really.'

'Hold still, kiddo.' Alden dropped his arm from my shoulder and shuffled forward. He, ever so slowly, lowered his hands onto my leg. I cringed in pain and lifted my shoulders. Scrunching up my eyes, I look away. 'Sorry. I know this hurts.' Sympathy. It filled his voice and echoed 'round the barn. It'd been away since I had appreciated someone's sympathy.

Alden stood and wandered over to the door, carefully avoiding my leg so as not to knock it. He spoke as he headed away from me,

'Listen, we're awful low on money. I'm going to go out and see if I can find some place I can earn some cash. That alright, kiddo?' Alden's hand was on the barn's handle as he awaited my reply. Doubt crossed my turquoise eyes.

'When'll you be back?'

'I'm not leaving you.' He chuckled, humour glinting in his brown eyes. 'I'll be back in roughly eight hours. I promise, no longer.'

'Alright. I'll hang with Chewy, here.'

'Chewy?'

'That's what I called the donkey.' Chewy was wrapped around me, sleeping. I ruffled his fur, slightly.

'Surely he already has a name?' I shook my head, 'Ah, alright. Have fun, then, you two.' Alden smiled before pulling open the barn door and leaving. The door banged behind him and he disappeared.

Chewy lifted his head and nuzzled into me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and cuddled up to him.

Animals. I don't care what anyone else says, animals have always treated me better than humans. Something I've always found is, animals kill for defence or food. People, people kill for fun. Thinking about that fact both disgusted and upset me.

Sitting there with Chewy, I felt better. But, something felt heavy. My chest felt as though it had a weight on it. I didn't know how else to release that weight except speaking. It was nice, Chewy, he sat and listened to me. I felt special.

'You know, I've never trusted people.' I began with the first event of my life.

When I was one, I was taken from my actual mother by a gang of hooligans. They tortured me and bullied and beat me.

I was there for three years.

Three. Years.

Scars. Yes. I have scars. 'Just 'cos you can't see 'em, don't mean they aren't there.' That's what my mother used to say. She always said it in the stupidest voice, it made me laugh every time.

Those three years were hell on earth.

My bedroom, was in the basement. It was cold, and damp and dark. Day in, day out. I didn't go outside. I had no bedding and I was fed old, rotten food they'd found in the trash.

It's funny. My mother always told me I'd soon forget those memories, but, they've stuck with me. All this damn time.

Mother was raised by a fox. He taught her to respect the wild and how to really live.