Miss Toulouse Home for Unwanted Girls

Chapter 11

When the past collides with the future.....

Their eyes bore into me as I stay huddled on the floor amongst the firefly of ashes that dance around me, that is all this is left of him. Panic pumps my broken heart as the harsh reality dawns on me "they now know I'm a monster, I have to leave again".

Ally words rattle around in my disjointed brain, from when she entered the house and found me clinging to his smouldering corpse while Lola and Miss Toulouse watch on horrified - like a cruel echo the words keep repeating "Phoenix, what have you done" and for this I have no answer, I cannot explain how I'm able to do this, only why.

Before I lived with my grandmother, I lived with my father's sister, I won't call her aunt because that would insinuate there was a bond there, there was not.

She viewed me as a burden that was thrusted upon her when my parents died. We lived in the same house but had very little to do with each other, the rules were simple don't get in trouble, don't get in her way basically bring as little attention to myself as possible, which isn't easy when your only eleven years old.

People assume all women are maternal, that's just not true, not every woman is destined to be a mother but at the very least they can be a decent human being; she was neither of these things. What she was, was an uptight, neat freak with distaste for all humans especially for children. Her only joy in this world was for her beloved cat "Dexter" that was as mean and nasty as her.

For a while we plodded on, trying to avoid each other like two passing ships. This wasn't ideal but I knew I had no other options, so I made sure to stay out of her way. Everyday after school, I would let myself in, make myself something to eat then hide away in my bedroom until it was time to sleep and start all over again. This was the pattern we followed until I ruined everything.

Dexter was a pampered spoilt house cat and he knew it, he was far too precious for the outside world so my dads sister would constantly remind me, but without fail every opportunity that furry little demon would try to escape, it was as if his very nature was telling him that he wasn't meant to be locked up.

So every time I'd come home, I would have the challenge of getting inside without him manically charging at me, then would come the scratching, hissing and biting but I would shoo him back inside knowing his safety was far more important than my own.

This was our daily routine until he outwitted me, I came home as usual prepared for the furry little beast, I quietly opened the door ready for his attack but was pleasantly surprised by no manic quick charge from Dexter, I'd not had many victories or moments of joy so I took his absence as a pleasant win for me - I'd crept in undetected, warm smugness washed over me.

That moment was short lived when I was suddenly charged by my dads sister instead of Dexter, before I could even lower my tattered school bag to the ground I had her callous old hands wrapped around my throat as she screamed at me like a wailing banshee, her spit hitting me in the eye as I gasped breath.

"Where is he?, where is he?, you did this on purpose you nasty little bitch".

The more I struggled the harder she squeezed, it was as if all the air was being pushed back down into my lungs and at any moment I could pop like an over inflated balloon.

I tried to fight back but her rage fuelled such strength I was no match for her.

"You let him out on purpose to hurt me, didn't you".

Realisation of what has happened suddenly enters my oxygen deprived brain, that furry little shit must of escaped and she believes I'm behind it. The only thing I can think of was this morning when I left for school the little devil must have escaped without me seeing - I try to plead with her through gasps that it wasn't my fault but my words fall on deaf ears, she can't and won't believe me.