Damonic

Chapter 2

All of the days and nights that I had spent countless hours, staring at this very same boy rush through my mind.

I could only stand there, dumbfounded, and all I could think was…no way. 

This couldn’t be him; the angel I’d seen endeavor through various imaginary battles.  The haunting figure I’d painstakingly etched out on whatever canvases that I had available to me at the time.

It couldn’t be…

But I knew that face. 

I had spent more than enough time painting it to have remembered every little detail; every crease, and freckle.

Hell, I spent more time staring at that face than I did my own.

But I always thought he was just a fragment of my imagination.

He is a fragment of my imagination.

Until now.

I’m startled back into reality when I feel a hand slightly graze my nose. Marjorie is waving her hand frantically in front of my face, trying to gain my attention.

Great, I must look like an idiot. With a start I snap my mouth shut—which had been unattractively gaping open—and try to focus. 

I blink to find Marjorie watching me carefully.

 “Cassabelle?” She desperately questions.

Probably questioning my sanity.

Well she could just take a number, because so was I. 

With a dry swallow, I dragged my gaze away from the boy, and situate all of my attention towards the man standing beside him. He was far less intimidating at the moment.

“I – uh- hi.” I stammered.

My God, I even sound utterly pathetic.

“Cassabelle, this is Gabrielle.” Marjorie waves a hand in the man’s direction, and plasters a magnificent, but none-the-less, over the edge smile on her face.

I just stare at her, and hope that she gets to the point.

Now, would be preferable—before I spontaneously combusted out of sheer mortification.

“Gabrielle is here to take you home, Cass.” She says, searching my eyes for some sort of reaction.

For a few moments, all I can muster is an empty, wide-eyed stare back at her.

Then it all sinks in with an involuntary squeaking sound I’ve never made before in my life.

No.

This isn’t supposed to happen.

Being adopted might have been my dream a few years ago, but not now.

 I’d been anticipating my birthday for over a year now. Becoming an adult, and starting new.

That’s all I wanted.

I don’t want to be taken to some stranger’s home, and have to live by their rules—jump when they say jump.

 I had enough rules here as it is, and let’s just say that over the years finding creative ways to break them had become a forte of mine.

Why now?

Why him?

I glance over the man, who seems totally oblivious to my distress as he eyes the back of a pale hand.  He doesn’t seem like the Angelina Jolie-Brad Pitt type to adopt the world and save the children.