ONN HOLD

Alright, so I have decided to put my posts here on hold for now as I write the whole story first. And besides, if I put them on on here-how will I sell them later ;)

But really, it just became too confusing to try writing the stories in reverse order. Which I as doing. Angie's story is third of four, the fourth being another one for Heather because her story takes place, for the most part, in two different yers, three or four years appart.

I'll still be around on "Just another Writer Writing" and "My Jourey with Anxiety", but you wonn't be hearing from me much here.

Thanks all <3

Road Trip Home: Four

Angie's P.O.V.
"My birth name is Angeline Leland, and this is my story.
"My mom started taking me to church just before I turned five. For a while, I was oblivious to the fact that we were not wanted, let alone accepted. When I first started to realize though, I thought it was because of me. But it didn't take me long to realize I was wrong. It had nothing to do with me. . .it was because of my father. After all, who would want to associate with the family of a drunk? But see, people didn't realize how alone this made my mom feel. And one night, I guess she'd had enough. Enough of the life she was hiding, enough of dealing with people who didn't want to help her. I don't know.
But she tucked me into bed, told me she loved me and that everything was going to be ok, and then she left. That was the last time I ever saw her. She got into my dads pickup, drove outside town, and it didn't even look like she tried to stop before she hit the tree.
Believe it or not, I didn't blame her. I wasn't mad at her. I just wished she had taken me with her.
After the funeral. I heard a lot about how she was weak, and a coward for leaving me. But no one seemed to care that I went home and had to sit in my bedroom closet for almost two days, hiding from my drunk dad. See, something no one knew about my mom was how good she was at lying. I watched her do it every day. I watched as she learned how to cover bruises with clothes and makeup, as she tried to figure out a story to convince you that her busted lip was from a closet door carelessly left open in the hallway. I watched her work so hard to hide it, that when I was the one with the bruises. . .I did the same thing. So believe me when I say that I understand why my mother wanted out, I wanted out too. I just never thought her death would be what got me out. Two months later, thanks to her friends accidentally discovering who was going on, I was removed from my fathers custody. The Watters. . .they tried to get the courts to grant them custody, but they didn't. And so I got put into foster care.
Honestly, things weren't much better there, and soon I started down the precarious road of self inflicting. Fire, heat, the feeling of burning skin; it was a pain I knew I could survive. I started stealing cigaretts from my foster parents, and eventually I got my hands on a lighter. I never got caught because I was never in a "home" long enough for anyone to notice they were missing anything. No one wanted to deal with me.
I was diagnosed with PTSD, and I would constantly have flashbacks. Every little thing seemed to set me off. I'd scream, cry, kick, and yell. I didn't even know I was doing it until I came out of it. Then as "disciplinary action" I'd get smacked around by my foster parents or whoever was in charge of the group home.
At age 13 I was moved again. I knew the drill by now; through anything you can actually call yours in a trash bag and shut up until you get to the new house. I wasn't excited or even happy to be placed again; I expected it to be just like every other place.
Boy was I wrong.
The Tuckers changed my life. For the first time I got discipline, not for my flashbacks, but for my crap attitude. Discipline that didn't involve getting smacked around. They actually helped me get a handle on the PTSD and got me help to understand what it meant to live with it. They reminded me of what it meant to be loved, and Charlotte led me to Christ shortly after I was adopted.

"Look, I'm pretty sure I'd be dead by my own hand if not for the Tuckers. I know I wouldn't be who I am today. And I'm not saying that I don't still struggle. Believe me, I'm a long way from being struggle free. I still have flashbacks, and-sometimes-I still self inflict. But I'm proud to say that as of a week ago it's been nine months. Nine months that I've been stronger than my addiction, and I cling to every day, hoping to add to that total. Because I am no longer my scars, my past, or my failures. I'm no longer that scared little daughter of a drunk. God took that, and gave me the hope of a bright future.
Little Angeline Leland died the day she accepted Him, and now I'm new. That's part of the reason I asked them to change my name to Angie. I'm different, I'm stronger. I am not who I was."
I pause and consider leaving it at that. I know I probably should, but being here has made all the bitterness and anger bubble up inside me again, and I'm speaking again before I know what I'm saying.
"Over the past three years, all I've felt from those around me is love. I've never felt judged for my past or my parents or my scars. But before that? Not so much. When j was in foster care, I was treated like I was invisible, or just another government check. I was abused, both physically and emotionally. And yet no where was I abused worse than right here in my home town. By my dad, sure, but by the people here too. So many things I heard and didn't understand as a kid. Understanding came later. And what I understood was that people knew-or at least had some idea-about what my mom and I were going through, and did nothing but ridicule how she was dealing with it. Growing up with that knowledge. . .it was more painful than any self inflicted scar or foster home beating.
I grew up feeling betrayed and rejected, unwanted and unloved. And to this day I still do not feel worthy of love. I'm thankful for the people in my life that love me. For my family now,  and the four people-including my mother-who actually showed me love when I was a child. But I still feel unworthy. Because of how I was treated here, because love was clearly not enough to make my mother stay, because love is rare in the system. . ." I have to pause and take a breath, trying to keep the tears at bay. "Finding-Finding Christ's love; feeling His love through His people. . .I couldn't be more thankful. I'm not worthy of His love, and I think understanding that has made me so much more thankful of the sacrifice that He made for me. I am so unworthy, but yet I am wanted and I am loved. Therefore I am blessed.
"I'm not going to apologize for what I've said tonight, but I do understand the importance of the lesson I was taught here. This weekend, it's about serving you. At first I was furious, but now I am excited. Though painful, the lesson I learned because of my time here is something I value. I'm not going to yell anymore. Thank you, for having me and my family here this week. I fully believe you will enjoy the production."
I take a breath, shocked not only at my words, but at the fact that I truly mean them. I can feel my anger dissipating with every step as we go to take out seats, and my fear begins to follow as I sit with my parents on either side.
My phone vibrates as Jason walks up to the podium. A text from Clair?
"Can we talk later? But soon?"
I lean forward as he begins to speak, trying to make eye contact with Clair from the opposite end of the pew. She looks at me for only a moment before typing again.
Another buzz. "Just soon, ok?"
I nod and reply, saying we would, and then turn my attention back to Jason. He's not speaking anymore, but instead helping a man up the steps to the podium.
He looks older, sickly, but still it's clear he was once a muscular-maybe even handsome-man. He couldn't be much older than my-
As he turns to face us I can see his eyes. Even from so far away, I recognize those eyes. And they meet mine for only a moment, but it's enough to make me feel sick.
I tap dads arm-I have to get out-but he doesn't move.
I elbow him, trying to suppress the desire to gag. "Dad I need out."
He shakes his head, "No, you need to hear this."
I grab his arm so tightly my fingernails leave impressions. "Dad I'm about to be sick please" I swallow past the growing lump on my throat, "please let me out."
Finally, reluctantly, he stands to let me out. I don't even try to hide the fact that I'm running as I leave the sanctuary. Instead of going to the bathrooms I run out the west door and double over. For the second time that day I'm sick.
After taking a moment to pull myself together I start walking around the building. Around the back, between the church and the cemetery, I start to run again. If only to get away from the eerie feeling back here.
Around the east side of the building, past the tree, and in the kitchen door of the parsonage. Safe. Finally safe. I take a shallow breath. Shrinking down with my back to the door, I pull my knees to my chest and spend the next several minutes trying to regulate my breathing even as tears begin to escape.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Charlotte's POV
When Angie left I knew instantly who had walked up to the podium. I I get up to follow her, but William takes my hand. "Hon, I think you need to hear what he has to say."
I sit beside my husband and look him in the eye. "Our daughter has just run out of the room. I recognized that look in her eyes. Fear. She is out there somewhere, completely terrified, and you want me to stay here and listen to what the man who caused that has to say?"
He stammers, searching for the right words.
"Mom" Liza whispers from the other side of me. "Mom, this is the whole reason they brought us here. They want us to hear Sean out. You stay, I'll go check on Angie. I'm sure she's fine, alright?"
I take a breath and reluctantly agree. As Liza leaves, Sean starts speaking. He seems rattled by Angie's words-and maybe her exit-but his voice still sounds sure.
"Jason was going to make this announcement at the beginning of service, but I. . .I wanted you all to hear it from me. As you all know, I've been battling cancer since the beginning of the year. It's never looked very good, but last month it was made very clear that even after all the chemo there was only a small chance is ever make it to remission. And so I decided to stop the treatments. They say I've got under six months. I stopped the treatment so I would be as involved as possible in the last months of my life. I want to make memories, both for myself and for my family." He motions to two women sitting on the front row, and they walk up to join him. They look so much alike, I instantly know they're mother and daughter. The mother is crying, and the daughter, no more than 15, is gripping her mothers arm as tightly as possible. "I won't be here much longer, and I'm ok with that." Sean continues. "My only regrets are those to do with my daughter, who you all saw just moments ago. I regret giving her up after she was taken, and I regret being the kind of man she had to be taken from. I would appreciate all of your prayers for our little family this week as I try to talk with her. And for for strength for us all as we walk through this valley. I get it easy, I'm going to paradise. But Aleisha and Jessica, they're the ones who will have it hard." He wraps them both in a hug before they help him off the stage.
For a moment it's deathly quiet as Jason approaches the podium. I recognize the look in his eyes as he begins to dismiss. Pain, and sorrow. He and Sean must have become close in the past few years.
"Tonight, our service has already turned out differently," he begins, "so I would propose a time spent in prayer during the last of our time tonight. After which, you're welcome to leave or move to the lobby and fellowship."
He nods, a hymn starts playing softly through the speakers, and he moves towards Sean and his new family. Suddenly I'm glad that Angie left. The last thing she needs to see right now is him with another wife. . .and another daughter.
William takes my hand, and I turn to face him. I place my head on his shoulder as he prays. And for the first time that day I allow tears to make it past my eyes. "Father" he whispers, "we lift our Angie to you tonight. You know the circumstance, You know the choice she will have to make before this week ends. We pray that even now You will be speaking to her heart. Giving her courage, and the strength she doesn't know she needs yet. Give us the patience and the wisdom to guide her in the direction you choose. We pray also for the Leland family. God be with them, give them strength. Comfort Sean as his battle rages on. Comfort Aleisha and Jessica as the have to watch someone they love dying. Bless our time here this weekend, we place everything into Your hand. In Your name. . ."
I take a breath as I realize it's now my turn. I'm not sure if I'll be able to speak, but I swallow past the lump in my throat and try.
"God, You know my heart. You know how much I love these two girls that I am so blessed to call my daughters. My only wish was to have a child of my own, and You alone know how devastating it was to find out I couldn't. But now I know that Your plan was for us to give a home to two beautiful and free spirited girls; who both desperately needed our help. Your help. My only desire now is to protect them. To keep them from danger, from trauma, from fear. And yet here we are. Lord I do not know Your plan. I do not know what You have planned for Angie here. But I pray that You'll be with her, with her family, with us. I don't know what's going on, and honestly God I'm too tired to process it right now. Give us all the strength and the wisdom to not only discern but to follow Your will. . .whatever that may be. In You name, amen."
I lean closer to William and he wraps me in his arms. We sit there for several minutes, until I see
Sean and Jason walk out the sanctuary doors. "Should we?" I ask quietly.
"It's why we' re here, isn't it?"
I nod. After one more moment in his arms, drawing strength from him because my own is gone, we stand and go to talk to our daughters father.

Road Trip Home: Three

Angie's POV

I decide to go outside and help while mom and dad talk. I can't help but shake my head when I see our suitcases in piles. "Andrew, this is why you're supposed to load up the personal stuff first." I laugh.

He glares at me; he knows I'm messing with him. "Everyone told me we were going to the hotel first."

"I know, I'm just teasing. No one knew for sure-it was top secret-so we took a chance."

I grab the box of costumes he hands me and grunt; its heavier than I expected. I get it inside and then drop it a few feet out of the way of the door. I'll let one of the guys get it later.

I turn to go back outside, but instead I find myself face to chest with someone a head taller than me. When I look up to see a pair of familiar green eyes, I can't stop the scream of surprise.

He laughs and picks me up, twirling me until I throw my head back and laugh.

"Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes!" He laughs as he sets me back on my feet.

I don't have time to say anything before I hear footsteps and see Mom and Dad running down the hallway, Liza and Mark close behind them. "What happened?" Liza asked.

I grin and grab his hand, pulling him a few steps towards them. "This crazy person nearly gave me a heart attack!" The joy in my voice doesn't mix with the fear that still sits in my heart, yet somehow I feel safer with his hand in mine.

"Mom, Dad, this is Jason Watters. Jason, thee are my parents, William and Charlotte Tucker, and my sister and her husband. Liza and Mark, this is Jason.

Charlottes POV

"It's so nice to meet you." Jason smiles as he shakes my hand. "Angeline has told me so much about you all in her letters."

What?

"You've written him Angie?" Isn't there a rule about that? I can't remember.

She smiles, "Only once every month for the past four years. I know that I probably wasn't supposed to, but...Jason saved me.I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him and his family. I didn't want to lose him as a friend." Her smile looks almost sad. I'm about to ask what she means, but before I can Krystal walks in with a box that is clearly too heavy for her. Anxiety strikes, and I feel silly knowing that it's only over the light inside that box
Mark rushes over to help her, "Careful" He instructs as he helps her put it down. "I think I'd be disowned as a son-in-law if we broke this."
I roll my eyes, with all that we've been through this morning, teasing is something that I really do not want to deal with. "Where are the others?"
"Andrew and the boys are outside unloading the trailer, and Clair is on her phone trying to find a place to eat around here. She and I are starved." She pulls her hair up off her neck and her eyes fall on Jason as she secures it with a scrunchie. "Oh hi, I'm Krystal. You work here?"
He smiles, "Yes, I'm Jason. And I think I can solve your lunch problem. My step-dad owns a pizza place just down the street, and he wanted to provide lunch for your team when you got in today."
"Scooters!" Angie's eyes light up again. After seeing her so scared just a few minutes ago, I'm surprised that anything could have brought that light back. Her blue eyes gleam behind her glasses, and I know that I'm not going to have a choice but to say yes when she asks "Oh mom, please?" How can I even think of saying no?
I smile and shake my head. Maybe a while of normalcy is just what she needs. "I don't see why not, but I would like to get the trailer unloaded first. We need to make sure that nothing is in the way tonight."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Jason convinces us to walk to the pizza shop, saying that it's only half a block away. I'm surprised at how different it feels to walk down the street in the little town after living in the city for so long. I want to focus on the surroundings, see the place where Angie grew up, but my thoughts don't wander far from her and Jason's intertwined hands. Childish, and yet not so, it leaves me wondering as we walk into the pizza shop and arcade. Thinking of Angie escaping here to play as a child makes me smile, until I start to wonder what or who she had to escape from.
She smiles and turns to Jason. "Where are your parents? I can't wait to see them."
"I have an idea, come with me." He leads her into the arcade and pulls back the curtain of a new looking photo booth. She laughs as she steps inside.
"You're nuts." She says as he lets the curtain fall. A card slid through the reader on the outside starts the countdown before he calls back into the dining room.
"Hey Mom, Scooter, there are some people out here I think you'd like to meet."
Clair, John, and Martin look at me as if asking permission to use the game cards Jason had given them. I nod, because I honestly don't know that going to happen next and I'd like a chance to talk with someone that knew Angie as a child. They disperse, scattering to a few of the games, as a woman walks in. Her red hair is short, curled on top of her head, and she's wiping her hands on a yellow apron that's tied around her waist.
"Hello, my name is Dr. Watters, but please call me Cassandra. Are you the His Servants drama team?" The way she holds her hands, grasping the middle fingers of her left hand and twisting her wedding ring, it's so similar to the way I would see Angie twist her ring when we first met. I wonder how much time Angie spent with Cassandra.
William steps forward while I'm lost in thought, "Yes ma'am we are. My name is William Tucker, and this is my wife Charlotte. Our daughter Liza and her husband Mark Rhods, Krystal and Andrew, and then the teens are off playing, but there is Clair, John, and Martin."
"So nice to meet you all." She smiles as she shakes our hands, but shakes her head when she sees Jason's grin. "Oh Jason, what's got you grinning? You look like you're about to explode."
"Nope, I just want to show you the test shots for the new photo booth. I had the Tuckers daughter try it out."
He hands her the photo strip and she shakes her head, "Now is really not the time Ja-" I recognize the look in her eye as she looks from the picture, to Liza, to Jason. It's hope, and the fear to be feeling it. "Jason. . .this looks like Angeline."
He moves, motioning her towards the booth, and she takes several steps in that direction. "Come out." Jason says.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Angie's POV
I step out of the photo booth as Jason's call, and the second I see Cassandra I become more acutely aware of my fear. She's always been the one to hold me when I was scared or hurt. After all, she was the one my mom brought me to every time. And now she holds me like she can't believe I'm here. "I'm not going to evaporate Doc." I laugh, finally breaking the embrace after several moments.
We both wipe tears from behind our glasses, "Oh hon, don't call me that anymore. It's Cassandra-or better yet Cass-ok? My word, you look so grown up."
I nod and let out a small laugh, "Alright Cass" the name feels foreign on my tongue. "Where-where's Scooter?"
"Oh Scooter! Jason, go get him will you? He was in the freezer and I don't think he heard you call."
Jason disapears and I turn to face my parents. "Cassandra, these are my parents. Mom, Dad, this is Doctor Cassandra Watters. She was one of my closest friends when I lived here."
Before they could say anything, Jason and Scooter walked in. I smiled at him, and he stopped in his tracks. "Oh my" He said, "Oh my, this can't be my little lady! She's far too grown up!" He wraps me in a hug, and even so many years later the mingling scents of pizza and aftershave seems so familiar. "Oh, but she's even more beautiful."
He steps back and takes my hands in his. "Angeline, today I have seen the answer to a prayer I've prayed every day for nearly 7 years. It wasn't answered how we wanted, but God knew what He was dong didn't He?"
After a moment he turns around and Jason and Dad start making introductions again. I step away and just watch, completely dumbfounded  at the events of the morning. I don't even notice when Clair comes over and stands beside me. "Hey girl, you alright? You're shaking."
I shake my head and half laugh. "I don't know Clair. My world is. . .completely upside down right now. I feel like I'm dreaming. I never in a million years thought that today would come." My shaking hands become too much for me to control, and I shove them into my back pockets. I feel like I need to sit down, but my shaking legs wont listen. "I love that Mom and Dad are meeting the Watters, but what about-Clair what about later?" It's a challenge just to get the words out past the lump in my throat. My breathing is shallow, and now I really want to sit down. "I'm not supposed to be here. I never thought" a shaky breath, "I never" another, "I think I'm going to be sick." My stomach lurches and I run out of the arcade, through the dining room, and into the bathroom.
I'd forgotten just how much it sucked to throw up.
Just as I start to feel able to go back out, both Mom and Cassandra walk in. "Baby are you ok?" Mom rushes to wrap me in a hug.
"Charlotte, I think maybe you should give her some space. Let her breathe." Cassandra says as she wets a paper towel in the sink.
"Excuse me? Angie is my daughter. I think I know when she needs her space and when she needs my arms." Mom takes the towel and rubs it along my forehead and neck.
"I didn't mean anything by it, I was simply suggesting that-"
"Simply suggesting that because you knew Angie when she was younger you know better what she needs. Well, I am her mother, and quite frankly I have no idea who you are or how you are connected to her, and I will not stand here and have you tell me how to calm her. I have done just fine for the past three years now."
I have never heard my mother yell at a stranger before. "Mom, it's ok." I say. "I'm alright now."
She sighs, and I can see all the anger leave her, replaced with clear exhaustion. "You're right. Cassandra, I am so sorry. I know you were only trying to help, I just don't know what to think right now, and I am so worried. I have no idea what happened here to leave Angie so terrified."
I cringe as Cassandra takes my hand. "Angeline, you haven't told her?"
I shake my head, "She's so much like you. I saw the pain in your eyes when you learned the truth; I didn't want that for her too. I thought I would never have to tell." Neither of them speak for several moments, and I am at a loss. I don't know what to do or say to get myself out of this.
"Not knowing" Cassandra finally says, "hurts more than you will ever be able to understand. I watched you and your mother walk home every night, never knowing is you would be back in the morning. Finding out what happened behind those closed doors. . .It broke my heart. But by then I knew you were safe, and that is all that mattered."
Before I can say anything they both have their arms around me. "Please baby girl, just tell me." Mom whispers.
I clench my eyes closed and try to think. I can't right now, I'm not ready. I haven't had time to "Tonight" think. Tonight? Tell them all tonight? "Let me tonight." I say again, finally understanding the idea. "When a couple of us are supposed to."
I risk a glance at both of them. They look surprised, but not opposed. "Are you sure that's what you want?" Mom asks.
I nod, "I'm sure.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Charlotte's POV

Angie tells everyone that she just got sick from the car ride and the shock of so many unexpected emotions. They all seem to know that it's not the whole truth, but they don't say anything. And after a while, she seems to be alright. She's laughing, playing games, and eating pizza-I don't think I've seen her so happy in a long time. I just pray that it's real.
We spend almost two hours at Scooters, and as crazy as it sounds, I spend most of that time asking Cassandra anything I can think to ask about Angie's medical history. From all she tells me, I get I sickening feeling that I know what Angie will talk about tonight.
Finally, just before 3:30, William breaks up the party. "Alright guys, I don't know about you, but I'd like to get to the hotel. I want to get unpacked and relax for a while before service tonight."
"Actually sir" Jason interrupts, "you'll be staying at the parsonage. We've turned it into a type of missions apartment, but it's able to house a huge family and sleep 12 comfortably. There are two bedrooms, a sitting room with two pull outs, and two bathrooms. The living room was too nice to put a pull out in, but I've rigged up a nice little alarm"
"Jason!" Mark nearly falls out of his seat when he yells. "Let's keep that to ourselves for now, ok?"
Jason just laughs, "Whatever you say. Anyway, we thought it would be more comfortable for you than a hotel."
"Thank you Jason," I say, "That sounds wonderful."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Liza's P.O.V.
4pm Wednesday afternoon

Unpacking was the least confusing part of the day, while working out rooming seemed to be the main complication. One bedroom was a master, beautifully designed, and it was imediately agreed that Mom and Dad would take that room for the first two nights, and Mark and I would get it the last two. The other bedroom held three sets of bunk beds.The girls wanted the room with the bunk beds because it would mean more privacy, but the boys wanted it because they didn't want to have to share a bed. After 20 minutes of arguing, finally ending in a coin toss, the boys got the room with the bunks and us girls got the sitting room.
Clair is pinning a bedsheet she found in the closet over the entryway when I sit down beside Krystal. She asked me to explain everything to her at Scooters, but I hadn't been able to put my thoughts together. Now, however, they were practically flying out of my mouth before I could stop them.
"Holy crap! Is your sister alright? does she realize that her dad has changed? Gosh, it's no wonder she flipped out like she did.
That's when it hits me. Mom doesn't know why we are here, she wouldn't have been able to explain to Angie when they were alone earlier. No wonder Angie lost it at Scooters! "Shoot. Do you know where she is? I haven't seen her since the coin toss."
"She said something about having to talk to your mom."
"Thanks." I run past Clair and down the hall to the master bedroom where I find mom sitting on the bed, brushing out her hair. "Do you know where Angie is? I have to tell her something before tonight."
"You too? Jason was just in here and asked her to take a walk with him. He wanted to explain something before tonight too." She shakes her head and sets the brush down beside her. "I'm getting a headache trying to sort out all that's happened today-and why."
I pause, and with chargrin I realize that explaining to Angie will have to wait. "Dad hasn't explained yet, has he."
"When would he? We haven't had more than a moment alone since we got here, and when we were alone he was talking nonsense, saying that he wasn't Angie's father. I didn't get a chance to question him, because right then Angie screamed because of Jason showing up."
I sigh and sit on the bed beside her. "Mark told me everything, that's why I dragged him into the sanctuary earlier. Angie's dad. . .whoever he is. . .he's not who he was before. He really wants a chance to talk to Angie, to ask her forgiveness. And while normally I would tell him to, well. . .take a trip down south. But mom, he's dying. From what Mark told me, it doesn't sound like he has a lot of time left, and that's why Jason concocted this scheme to get her here."
Her eyes widen, "Jason came up with this plan? Dear Lord, Liza she might kill him if she finds out."
I can't stop the small laugh at her reaction. "Maybe that's what he wanted to talk to her about. But there is a chance that her dad will be there tonight, and if we don't give her some kind of warning. . .I don't know how she might react."
She shakes her head, "Go, find her. I have got to find your father. We really need to talk."
"Well, since that sounds completely non-threatening, I'll leave you to it. But remember. . .he only did what he thought would be best for Angie. No matter what happens this week, we will get through, as a family. Alright?"
"I know Liza, I know."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It tames me a half hour to find Angie, and that's only after searching everywhere from Scooters to the church. Finally I remember the clubhouse above that giant plastic tree where I found her earlier. Sure enough, I hear them talking before I make it there. And I don't like what I hear. "Jason, I don't want to hear this right now." Angie is climbing down the ladder by the time I make it to the tree.
"Angeline, but you need to know that you dad-"
"No! Jason, I don't want to hear anything about my dad, ok? And would you just stop with the Angeline? My name is Angie. As far as I'm concerned, Angeline Leland died along with her mother. And as for you, I thought you were my friend! I can't count the number of times that I told you I never want to come back here, and yet here we are. Because of you I had my first flashback in a year and a half." She turns to walk away, but I grab her arm.
"Hey, where are you going?"
She jerks away, "I need to think. If I'm going to speak tonight I'm not going to speak as some scared little girl. Those people" she points to the church, "they are finally going to understand what they did to my mother."
Before I can get her to explain, she takes off. Jason joins me on the ground and punches the tree. "That did not go well."
"No kidding lover boy." I sigh.

I don't see Angie in the hours leading up to the service. I know she comes in to get ready, but I don't see her until she walks into the sanctuary with Mom, five minutes before service starts. She visits with people politely, but I can tell that she is still fuming inside. She sits with mom and dad in the front, while the rest of us claim a row in the back/
Jason introduces them after the song service; it's almost relaxing to hear them tell their stories. Stories I've been hearing since I was eleven years old.
Dad talks about growing up a preachers kid, coming to Christ at an early age, and meeting mom in college.
Mom talks about growing up in a Christian home, coming to Christ at age seventeen, and then falling away when she started college. She tells how God led her back and into dad's path. And then she tells the story of the team.
She started His Servants because she wanted to show people that theatre could be used to bring glory to God, and not just to the world. And 14 years later, we still are.
Finally, Angie steps up to the podium. Mom grabs her hand for a moment, and I see the burst of courage that goes through her.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Charlotte's POV
I grab Angie's hand and squeeze it as she steps to the podium. The speakers screech as she starts to speak. Quietly at first, but stronger with every word. "Hi, my name is Angie Tucker and I've been a part of His Servants since William and Charlotte took me in at age thirteen. Most of you probably wonder why you recognize me, and maybe hearing my first name will jog your memory. My birth name is Angeline Leland, and this is my Story."

Road Trip Home: Two

Wednesday Afternoon, 12:42pm

Angie's POV
As dad pulls the van into the church parking lot I feel sick. The world starts to spin just as we come to a stop.
I move to the door, but before I can go anywhere I lose my balance and fall. Mark is at my side in an instant, trying to help me up, but I push him away.
"Get away from me." I whisper.
"What?" He asks as I pull myself to my feet.
"I said, get away from me! How could you do this to me? It was your idea to come here! What were you thinking? I thought I could trust you!" I turn to face Dad, because he knew too. "You said you'd protect me from this place, and I believed you!" My breath is coming in short bursts. I need to run, I need to think. "I guess I was wrong."
I turn away and start running. Where I'm going? I don't know. But I run. "Angie! Angie come back here!" I hear Mom yelling, and I know Liza will come after me. She's never lost her track star speed; there's no way I'll be able to out run her.
I turn and go around the building, not stopping until I'm right in front of the plastic monstrosity referred to as "the tree". Because that was it used to look like, and it still does . . . kind of. Huge, above ground, plastic roots created places to play or hide, while three swings hung from the tallest limbs-which were now only a few feet above my head. Just above that sat the clubhouse, with a rope ladder leading up to the whole from which the trap door had long since gone missing.
"Angie, hey!" I hear Liza behind me, so I grab the ladder and climb up, swaying all the way. I only just manage to pull it up and out of her reach as she reaches the bottom of the tree.
"Angie, come down from there." She calls, looking up at me
"Liza please, I just need a few minutes." I yell down.
"What happened? What's wrong? Please tell me."
I lay back and muffle a scream with my hands. "Your idiot husband, that's the problem!"
She just chuckles, "You're gonna have to be more specific sis."
I roll over and hold my head over the hole. "He brought me back to the place of my real-life nightmare. Liza, why would he do this!"
"Maybe he didn't know?" It's phrased more like a question than a statement.
I shake my head, "No, he knew. He had to know. Why else would he keep it secret from everyone but Dad?"
She sighs. "Ya know what? You're right! My husband can be a bit of an idiot at times, and I don't know why he brought you here. But since you ARE here, maybe you should get your butt down here and face whatever it is he thought important enough to warrant bringing you."
"It's not that simple sis!"
"Isn't it?"
I know she's right, but I'm having a lot of trouble accepting it. "Liza, you know the situation. You know what I went though-you had to deal with it too. Can you honestly say that you would face your mom if in my position?"
She's silent for several moments, probably realizing the truth. That this wretched town is where I was born. And the place I was relieved to be taken away from b
"Do you remember that trip I took, right before the wedding?"
"How could I forget? You disappeared for three days and scared mom half to death. Why?"
She sighs and sits down, leaning against the tree to look up at me. "I went to my moms funeral." She finally says.
"What? Liza I. . .I'm So sorry."
"Don't be. I didn't know her-not the real her anyway. I got to meet her kids. All of them were under 12, and couldn't stop talking about how she was an amazing mom. A great mommy. They asked me why I was never around, luckily they were young enough that I was able to feed them some bull about me being a grown up. Their dad thanked me for not ruining their memory of her, but he did ask for my story later; I spared him no detail. He gave me a letter she wrote about a month before she died. I didn't read it until after the funeral. When everyone had left the graveside I sat down as close to the open grave as was permissible and read. The letter was an apology. I cried, and screamed, and I may or may not have uttered a few choice words that I'd wanted to before I became a Christian. I know that the people waiting to fill the grave thought I was crazy. . .but surely they'd seen worse before.
"Angie, I wasn't mad about the letter. I kept it, and it's with a few of our wedding things. I was mad that I never got to confront her. I was mad that I never got to yell and scream, or show her the damage she'd done to me. I didn't get the chance to show her that I turned out great, despite the living. . .despite the existence I knew with her. I was angry because I would never get the chance to know her-really know her. To offer forgiveness, or to know if she even cared enough to want it.
"Sis, you have to face him. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life harboring bitterness, hate, and fear?"
I roll over again and press my hands to my eyes, pushing my glasses up on my head. "Liza, you don't get it! You chose to go; you didn't have people you trust betray you by-"
"Angie, no one has betrayed you. No one is going to tie you to a chair and force you to see him. But I think you deserve that chance to yell. You deserve the chance to scream at him and tell him how much he screwed up your life. And then you get to tell him how you're working on being ok. How you have a chance at a normal life now-no thanks to him. Sis, just come down and we'll talk. On my life, I'll hurt him if he tries to talk to you before you're ready."
We both almost laugh at this, but only because it's true. "I'm scared Li" I confess.
"I know you are, and you have every right to be. But you have faced so much. . .I know you can do this."
I sigh, and a minute later I lower the ladder and climb down. "There" Liza wraps me in a hug, "the first step is always the hardest."
I shrug and we turn to walk. Halfway to the door though the stinging in my knee becomes too noticeable to ignore; I look down to see a small streak of blood starting just above my knee and making its way down to mid calf. "Umm...oww" Liza says when she notices. "Is that from when you fell out of the van?"
I nod, "I guess so."
She keeps me walking "Lets get you back, mom will take care of that."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Chars POV
I tried to run after Liza, but William stopped me. "We need to talk" he'd said. But we haven't had a chance. He's been too busy talking to Mark and his friend.
Instead of dragging him away, I decide to focus my attention on getting Krystal, Andrew, and the kids to unload the trailer.
We had just pulled everyone's personal bags when I see Liza and Angie walking towards the door. I run to catch up with them.
 "Are you alright?" I ask, following them in.
"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just a scratch." Angie says; that's when I notice the blood.
"Oh Angie, we need to go get that cleaned up." I say as I start to search my bag for the small first aid kit I always keep.
"I need to talk to Mark." Liza says before walking back outside. I'm slightly surprised when she comes back, practically dragging her husband, as she leads him through a set of swinging doors.
"What exactly was that about?" I ask as Angie and I make our way to the bathroom.
"Give you three guesses." She mumbles.
I sigh, "Right." Lord help me. "So. . .can I assume this is where you used to live?"
She sits down on the floor-reminding me of a small child-and flinches when I spray the scrape. "Home sweet home." She mutters. 
I put a small bandage on her knee and then sit on the ground beside her. "Baby girl, please talk to me. What happened when we got here? What. . .happened here that has you so scared?"
She shakes her head. "I can't. Just . . . From the first day I was with you I could see the heartbreak in your eyes when you thought about my life in foster care. You had the records, I saw them. So before you read far enough to see where I was from. . .I burned them. I took the records of my hometown, my home life, my parents. . .and I destroyed them. I couldn't stand to see the look in your eyes when you found out the truth about...about why I was taken away. Not if it was anything like what I saw the days you looked at the records of my time in the system. Or when I had flashbacks.
"But I regretted the decision the moment I saw where we we're. You didn't know, how could you? It was my best kept secret. But being back? I panicked. I wanted to run all the way back home."
I don't know what to say, so I'm quiet as I place a small Band-Aid over the cut. I see a mark higher on her knee, and wonder if it's scraped there too. I roll up the hem of her shorts just a few centimeters before she stops my hand. But she's too late. "Angie. . .what are-"
"Nothing." She cuts me off a little too quickly. "Nothing but a reminder of my past." She looks hurt, and with a sinking feeling I begin to understand why. I brush my finger over the few that I can see.
When I look up I see two beautiful eyes filled with tears. She closes them and the tears fall. I cup her face in my hands and wipe each tear with my thumb. "Angie Rose" I whisper, "you tell me right now where those marks came from." My voice shakes at the pain that I clearly see in her eyes.
"I can't." It comes out as barely a whisper as she attempts to look down. I don't let her.
"Angie please" I beg, even though I'm fearful of the answer. "Did you. . .did you do this?"
She nods as more tears escape. I pull her into my arms and hold her tight, wishing that I could take away the pain that she's feeling. The pain that caused her to hurt herself in such a way. As she cries-as we cry-I rock her back and forth trying to calm her. "Shhh it's ok. You're ok baby. You're ok. You're ok."
After several minutes she finally takes a deep breath and pulls away. She wipes her face, and I do the same. As she pulls her glasses back over her eyes I whisper. "I love you so much Angie."
"Oh gosh mom." She almost laughs. "Please don't make me cry again."
I push a curl behind her ear and hold it there for a moment. "Baby please-"
"Stop. Please. Mom I can't, ok? Not yet. If I'm going to explain this, I'm gonna explain everything. I just need time to think. Soon, I promise."
Soon? When would that be? "Angie-"
"Mom. Please. . ." Her eyes hold so much fear; I never thought that I would be the cause of it.
I nod, "Go, help them unload. But tell your father I need to talk with him."
She half smiles "Thanks mom. And I wasn't kidding-soon. I promise."
I nod, earning the look I know all too well. She knows I'm thinking, but she doesn't know what.
She stands to leave, and a moment later William is standing in front of me, looking a little awkward to be standing in the entrance of the woman's bathroom. "Angie said you wanted to tell me something?"
I take a deep breath and whisper. "What were you thinking?"
"What?"
"What were you thinking? Bringing Angie here What reason could you possibly have for bringing her here? You told her you'd protect her; you're her father-"
"I'm not her father though Char."
I'm so taken aback by his words that I don't know how to respond. Sadly though, I don't get a chance. I hear a shriek from the hallway and immediately think the worst-either Angie heard him, or her father has shown up.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Liza's POV
I drag Mark into the dark sanctuary and cross my arms. "Explain. Now." I say through clenched teeth.
He looks at me, confused, then almost frightened. Several moments pass in silence before he speaks. "I met Jason about a year ago at a speech competition for school. We placed very close and were in the same division the whole week. We became friends, and added each other on Facebook when we got home. Last month, he saw that picture you tagged me and Angie in. The throwback to Christmas when we were goofing off while working on sets. He couldn't believe it, and asked me how I knew her. He almost had a heart attack when I told him she's my sister-in-law.
"Your dad walked in on our Skype call, wondering why we were talking about Angie. Jason explained who he was and how her knew her-"
"Wait." I stop him. So far he's done nothing but confuse me even more. "Who exactly is Jason?"
"If you'd have waited half a minute before dragging me in here, I'd have introduced you. He was Angie's best friend when she was little. Apparently she still writes him every month or so. And he would never admit it-mostly because he's about three years older-but he seems to be completely smitten by our Angie."
I choose to ignore the last comment. It's something I can examine later. "Okay. . .how does that correlate with anything? Why are we here?"
"Like I was saying. . ." He sighs and runs his hand through his hair. "Jason told William how he knew Angie, but he also told him something else. For the past five years Sean Leland-her dad-has fought to stay sober. He's working in the church-I guess it's a real turn around from the man he used to be. I think Jason even said he was working on his fourth year without a drink. But. . .he's also dying.
"Stage 4 cancer in his liver, stage 2 in his lungs. The doctors said that there isn't much they can do-he has maybe six months. That's why Jason asked me to bring Angie here. He says that Sean's only wish is to see his daughter again. To have a chance to tell her how sorry he is for what he put her through. He doesn't even expect to be forgiven. . .he just wants to talk to her."
I'm speechless. Her dad is dying? "You. . .your brought her here to fulfill a dying mans last wish." I say
"Yes." He smiles at me and takes my hands. "Liza we didn't bring her here to torment her, or to force her to do something that she doesn't want to do. We brought her here to have a chance at offering forgiveness." He rubs his hands up and down my arms. A very calming gesture. "I saw you after your moms funeral. I know that this is something she needed to do. And I know that disputed your first instinct to protect her. . .you know that she needs to do this. You want her to."
I shake my head and try to blink back the tears that fill my eyes. "My husband." I mumble. "The sweetest, most thoughtful idiot I've ever met."
He laughs. "Hey, now."
"I'm serious." I almost laugh too. "You really should have talked to her first. But. . .thank you for bringing her here." I stand on my tip toes and kiss him. I feel him grin, but the moment when I hear a scream. Angie's scream.
We share a worried look before running out of the sanctuary.

Road Trip Home: One

Wednesday Morning; 7:40am

Angie's POV

My bedroom door creaks open, a thin shaft of eerie red light appears on my floor. Fear fills me when I see his boots as the door opens further; from my place under the bed I have the perfect view of his boots steel toe, the bottle he holds in one hand, and his muscular torso. I can't see his face, and I am thankful, because I can imagine it all too well. An evil smile parting thin lips, eyes bloodshot from alcohol, and unkept hair falling in his face. "Angeline" I hear his grumble, "there's no use hiding now, I've finally found you." He takes a step closer and stoops low, like he knows where I am. I see his hand grab the sheet, and as he lifts it I scream.

I sit up screaming, covered in sweat. It takes me a whole minute to realize where I am; safe, in the bedroom of the house I've called home since I was 13. Slowly, my breath returns to normal and my heart slows to it's regular rate. I shake my head as I throw the blankets off my legs and stand up. My pajamas are stuck to my body, damp from sweat. All I really want to do is shower, but one look at the clock tells me that I don't have the time. With less than an hour before I'm supposed to leave with my family on a three hour road trip to some mystery destination, I grab my clothes off my desk and walk down the hall to the bathroom. I reach to open the door, but before I can it's opened from the other side. Dressed in blue jeans and a purple shirt that holds a very faded wild cat, she smiles at me. "I was just about to wake you up, are you alright?" She looks me up and down, clearly noticing that I am nearly drenched. "You're too young to wake up like that."

I roll my eyes at her half joking statement, "Moooom." I groan.

She laughs and gives me a hug, "You alright?"

I shake my head without looking up. I'm shaken; I always am after that dream.

She doesn't ask questions, she knows that I won't answer. Instead she just holds me for a moment, allowing me to draw strength from her. "You'll be down for breakfast soon?"

I nod, still not wanting to move. I only do because I know that we will both curl up on the van and go to sleep on the drive. "Yeah, I just want to wash up and get dressed. Will you do my hair in the braid you just learned?"

She steps back and tucks a stray strand behind my ear, "If we have time."

I grin, "I'll make time."

She smiles and starts to walk away, but grabs my hand instead. "Are you sure you're ok?"

I can see the heartbreak in her eyes, and i hate that I do this to her. I'm glad that I wont have to for much longer. "I'm fine. I promised you that I would tell you everything when I was ready. Well...I almost am. I was up late last night writing part of it out, that's why I ended up having the nightmare."

"It had been a while since your last." She smooth’s my hair away from my face again and I give a half smile.

"I know, but I think it will be my last. I think after I talk to you guys about it...I dunno. I think it'll help."

She smiles again, "I know it will."

She goes downstairs to make breakfast for Dad, and probably for Liza and Mark too. They've been living in the basement for a year while saving for a house, and I couldn't remember when they hadn't been at the breakfast table this summer.

I've changed my mind, and decide that a hot shower is just what I need to wash away both the sweat and the still lingering memories. I twist my long hair up into a bun and turn on the water; steam is already beginning to fill the room when I step into the hot stream of water. The sting is worse on my arm and legs where scar tissue still visible. The mere sight of them makes me want to do it again, to feel the burn again, but I refuse to let nine months go down the drain-like the previous six before them, and the four before them, and the seven before that. So many times I'd tried, and so many times I'd failed to stay away from the flame, I refuse to throw it away now. . . . But looking at them makes me long for that feeling, I need something to burn into my skin. I reach for the knob, wishing the water to be hotter, but at the last second I jerk it all the way to the left, making the water ice cold. I stand there for several minutes, letting the icy liquid help pull me out of the self-destructive thoughts.

Less than five minutes later I am dried and dressed, shorts covering the scars on my legs and a long, black lace glove covering the scars on my left arm. My hair is wrapped in a towel, and though I want to wear my contacts, I don't want to have to deal with them all week and I get my glasses out of their case. Once I have them on everything is much clearer. I tease my hair and let it fall in loose curls around my shoulders, if mom's going to fix it in a minute I feel no need to do much with it.

In the kitchen, I smell pancakes and bacon; dad is sitting at the table wit a map, Mark standing beside him as they try to map out the best rout. "Morning guys." I smile as I walk over to kiss my dad on the cheek.

"Morning honey." He says without even looking up.

I shake my head and steal the bacon from his plate. "Where are mom and sis?"

"I think they're in the living room, Charlotte was looking for a brush that wasn't packed."

I laugh, "Oh, I have one in my backpack. She said she would braid my hair for the trip."

I set my pack in my chair, grab a biscuit and another piece of bacon off my plate, and walk around the corner into the living room. "I still don't know. All he will tell me is that his friend from College wants our team to come perform." Liza says as I walk in.

"Ahh, discussing the subject of the mystery destination, are we?" I laugh as I sit on the floor in front of the couch. "I think this is the longest that the guys have kept a secret like this."

Mom just shakes her head and sighs as I hand her the brush. "Your father hasn't said a word about it. Won't tell me about the stage, won't tell me about the church, he won't tell me anything."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

By 9:30am we've got the rest of the crew on the van and are making our way to the highway. As mom sleeps against the window to my left, I can't help but take survey of the team that we have going with us this week. Behind me are a couple of my best friends: Clair, John, and Martin.

"I just hate that we have to miss Bible Study tonight." John complains as he digs for something in his laptop bag.

Clair shrugs as she puts an ear bud in, "It's not that big a deal, Heather said she'd take notes for Angie and I, you can read them too."

"Sounds good to me." Martin grins as he snatches Clair's other ear bud so he can listen with her. I smile and shake my head. 

In the next row, mom and I sit with blankets and pillows. We are completely prepared to sleep away the 3 hour drive.

In front of us, my sister Liza and her friend Krystal sit sideways, already engrossed in a card game.

In the front row, Andrew sits in the middle with a map. Mark sits in the passenger seat with the GPS, and dad is arguing with both of them as he drives. I just shake my head; this is bound to be an interesting trip.

Once we're on the highway, I carefully pull my iPad out of my backpack. With mom nearly asleep on my shoulder, I don't want to wake her. She doesn't need to see this yet.

I type in the password and find the app where I've been writing. After entering the secondary passcode, I'm able to see what I spent so long working on last night. The only written account of what happened to me as a child. I start to read it, but I find myself unable get past the first few lines. With a sigh I turn it off and put it away. As I'm closing the pack that also holds my laptop, I see a small notebook. I half smile as I pull it out and flip through the old, torn pages. This journal is the only object I've kept all through my life. I can still remember the pain when I look at entries in the beginning, but I can also feel the joy radiating from the pages near the end.

It falls open to one from three years ago, and tears spring to my eyes as I remember the joyous day.

"Today was my 14th birthday, and it was the best day of my life!"

*flashback*

I walk through the door after a particularly uneventful day at school. Not many people pay much attention to me, so nobody cared that today I am 14 years old. The house is dark, and sadness envelops me as I realize that no one is home. I try to shrug it off, after all . . . I'm used to it. Though I'd started to think the Tucker's were different.

Tears are kept at bay as I drop my backpack on the kitchen table and grab a cookie from the plate that's always waiting for Liza and me. Beside it sits an envelope with my name on it, and I smile for the first time that day. I open it to see a birthday card with glittery butterflies on the front, fluttering around the blue and green "Happy Birthday" spelt out with the stems of flowers growing out of the letters.

Inside there is a hand written note from Charlotte. "Happy Birthday Baby Girl! There is a surprise waiting for you on the back porch. Love you!"

I look to the patio door and a flicker of excitement ignites. A birthday gift? Big enough they have to hide it outside?

I slowly walk to and open the door, and what I see completely blows me away.

It's a bike. A blue and green bike with a yellow bow stuck to the helmet that rested on the seat. I stare at it, unable to imagine that it's mine. I've never had a bike, and I'm not sure I know how to ride one.

"Surprise!" Someone yells, and I jump backwards. I expect to hit the door, but instead I hit a body.

I spin around so fast it's dizzying, and look up into Charlotte's smiling face. "Happy Birthday!" Liza yells from behind her.

I step backwards and nearly collapse into one of the plastic patio chairs. I feel so overwhelmed that I can't stop the tears from coming. I cover my face with my hands and instantly both Charlotte and Liza are there. Liza beside me and Charlotte in front of me, her hands on my knees. "I'm so sorry Angie, we didn't mean to scare you." she says.

Liza put her arm around my shoulders. "Yeah Angie, we're sorry."

I shake my head and do my best to dry my eyes, but when I look up everyone is still slightly blurry. "No, no, I'm sorry. You didn't scare me, I-I was just surprised." I tell them. "I-no one has remembered my birthday since my mom died."

"Well let's get that fixed." William says as he carried out a cake with 14 lit candles. "How about you come blow these out and make you're birthday official." He winks at me as he sets it down on the table behind me.

I stand up and look around at all three of them. Charlotte takes my hand and smiles as I blow out all the candles.

"That a girl." William smiles at me.

"We have one more surprise for you."

"You guys have already done so much. What more could I possibly ask for?"

"Just open this." Charlotte says as she hands me a thin package.

I tear away the paper and my breath catches in my throat. I can tell it's just something printed off the internet, but what it says completely blows me away.

"Angeline Fay Leland (now Angie Rose Tucker) has been formally adopted by William and Charlotte Tucker on this, the 5th of September, 2012."

I can't breathe, and collapse into the chair that Charlotte has placed behind me. I look up at them, completely flabbergasted. "Are you serious?" I ask, my voice shaky.

"Yes, Angie." William says. "You're going to stay with us, and we're going to protect you from everything and everyone that ever hurt you."

*end of flashback*

I open my eyes, so surprised that I've had a flashback that it takes me a moment to realize that I'm disoriented. I wasn't laying down a minute ago, was I?

Mom is stroking my hair, and she's surprisingly calm as I sit up and shake my now pounding head. "Did you sleep ok?" She asks.

Sleep? Wasn't she the one asleep a minute ago? "What? I wasn't sleeping. I was...I was reading a minute ago."

The moment it's out of my mouth I regret it. The look of panic on her face is one I've seen many times. "Did you have a flashback?" She whispers.

I nod. "Yeah, but it wasn't a bad one. I was remembering . . . I was reading about my 14th birthday, and I guess that's what triggered it."

She puts her hand on my knee. "Are you sure you're alright?"

I nod and smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. That was weird though. How long was I out?"

"Well we are almost to the church." She says, motioning to the window.

From the window behind her I only saw a lake, but when I turn to look out the other my heart nearly stops. Time slows as we pass the old, weather beaten sign with pealing paint underneath a hasty applied topcoat.

"Oh no." I whisper, too terrified to even move. "This can't be happening."