Safe Haven | B. Barnes

for the sun to wake up

When the strange men left, Angeline allowed herself to be led back into the house by Mama Marge.

"Who were they?" Angie questioned as the taillights of the black old sedan disappeared into the night.

When they got back inside, the children trickled down the stairs or up the hall into the living room. "Is Falcon really your brother, Mama Marge?"

"Why does Captain America look so old?"

"Who was the guy with the missing arm?"

"Do you think Falcon can really fly? With wings?"

Mama Marge chuckled as the questions were thrown at her relentlessly, "One at a time. Yes, Mr. Wilson is my brother. He and I grew up in this here house.

"Mr. Rogers has been through a lot, and when a person goes through the things he did, you can't blame him for looking a bit old.

"As for the other man they were with, Mr..." Mama Marge trailed off when she realized that she didn't get James's last name.

"Bucky." Angeline mused softly. All eyes turned to her.

"I've heard Mr. Wilson and Mr. Rogers call him Bucky a few times. So it must be Mr. Bucky." Angeline had a determined glare that dared anybody, even Mama Marge to tell her differently.

"Mr. Bucky? That's a weird name." Qui'Ziya commented, scrunching her nose.

"No, it's not. He doesn't look so scary anymore." Angie was quick to defend the stranger.

Qui'Ziya opened her mouth to speak again when Andre nudged her shoulder. She clamped her mouth shut and rolled her lips in.

Angie looked triumphant and began making her way upstairs to go to bed.

"You go on and get ready to go to bed. You have school tomorrow and you don't wanna miss the bus, do you?" Mama Marge raised her eyebrows at the crowd in front of her. They all obediently shook their heads and spread out, some upstairs, some down the hall.

Marge sighed and let out a breathy laugh as she went to the kitchen to wash the cups of coffee. All the mugs were empty.

She smiled proudly.

She had always been good at making coffee.

There were another twenty minutes of activity of the oldest children helping with the younger ones and preparing their backpacks by the door.

Finally, it was nice and quiet, time for Marge to sit and do the paperwork that was due in a week.

She sat at an old chestnut wood desk and pulled out the bills and the documents and began filling them out.

It was about 11:30 at night when she finished and neatly stacked them in order of urgency. Marge stood and stretched her back, a few bones cracking as she leaned back.

After making the nightly routines, making sure the doors were locked, the windows were closed and the porch light was on, she was going upstairs when something she saw made her heart jump to her throat.

"Angie." She said breathlessly when she realized that it was Angie, crouched on the middle of the stairs on the side so that her only arm was hooked around a wooden baluster and her hand was clutching the Black Widow doll. She was still, only tilting her head back to see Marge come up the stairs.

"It's almost midnight, Angie, what are you doing here?" Marge stopped when she got to Angie's step and lowered her big body to sit, her hips resting against the cold wood. Angie turned her attention back to the door as she answered quietly, "Waiting." Marge's eyebrows furrowed.

"Waiting? What for?" Marge too glanced at the door and back at Angie. In all honesty, Angie's unusual behavior was disturbing her. With unmoving, unblinking eyes, she whispered loudly fear evident in her voice, "For the sun to wake up." she rested her chin on her knees which were pulled up to her little chest.

"Can I ask you why?"

Even in the dark with the moonlight shining through the windows, Marge could see Angie shuddering and her lower lip trembling. The sound of squeezed plastic filled the tense air, it was Angie clutching the doll as if hanging on for dear life. "I don't want them to find me sleeping."

Marge's heart twisted in her chest. Those monsters of parents left such a mark on her life.

Marge pursed her lips wondering how to confront this problem. Angie never spoke of the horrors done to her, and while Angie's case wasn't unheard of it was different than all the others.

Angie rarely slept even when she knows it's safe. A few time Marge would wake up in the middle of the night to use the restroom and she would walk by Angie's and Morgan's room only to hear her humming nothing in particular. Once, just to see who it was, Marge pushed open the door slightly until she could see who it was that kept humming. Angie would be awake, sitting up in bed in the dark next to Morgan who was still sound asleep, and she would be cradling that Black Widow doll as if it was a baby with her one arm. And every morning she would be wide awake as if she had a restful night.

And until today, Marge thought it was a mere sleep disorder she had.

"Well, it's okay if you can't sleep, baby, but try to get some rest. You have school tomorrow." Marge grunted the last word out as she stood up on the steps and held a hand out for Angie.

Her head shook side to side, "I don't want to. I don't want him to find me!" Panic set in Angie's voice and she began trembling violently.

"Hey. Hey, Angie, it's okay baby, they won't find you I promise." Marge picked her up from the steps and held her close, her heart crying for the little girl.

"I'll be outside your door just so you could know that they won't be coming not even a mile near you," Marge promised and led a shaky Angie back to her room.