Having Faith

Prologue

                                                            October 16, 2002

The cool breeze swept up the fall leaves that lingered over the pavement in vibrant hues of orange and red, they created a small enough tornado that the leaves themselves seemed to remind Faith of an ocean of fire.

She held both small arms out and let the wind take her along with the leaves, allowing the cool chill to gust past her brown hair and up under her favorite green sweater. It was Faiths favorite because of the memory it held, the sentimental value, and even though children only eight years old would never understand the true meaning of that value, she did.

Every single piece of her mother, she held onto tightly. From the green sweater, to the way her mother smiled at every breeze of wind. 

"Faith! Come inside, dinner is ready!" Her father called to her from the kitchen window of the pink hued home. She could remember her father saying the home was taupe, and her mother saying it was in fact pink.

It's definitely pink, she thought to herself.

As Faith dropped her arms and picked the leaves from her hair, she turned and began toward the home, stopping as she noticed the little snail.

"You're in the wrong season buddy." She cooed, reaching down and going to grab it, but before she could, the crunching sound of his shell came. It followed with a short and rude laugh, and as Faith looked from the boys show up to his face, she felt her anger grow.

If there was any boy she hated more than anyone, it was Angeles Vaughn. He was the meanest, cruelest boy in the world. Faith shoved him hard and he shoved her back.

Faith went to punch him but she was grabbed, and she didn't need to turn to know who it was.  Where Angeles was, Holton always followed, and they often created mischief and chaos together.

Holton grabber Faiths arms and held her to his chest tightly, "Get her Angel!" He shouted while Angeles looked to Faith with a small uncertainty. Angeles hadn't ever hit a girl before, sure he teased Faith, pushed her back when she pushed him, and often stole her things, but he's never punched her.

In his stomach he felt the bad emotions, the worry and fear of his move.

Angeles was a wealthy young boy, as was Holton. They grew up lavishly, and had no idea what the struggle was like for Faith. Often times they'd tease her for her lack of expensive clothing, and shoes. But she didn't pay them any mind.

"One day Faith, you're going to be working for me. You'll be my little bitch." Angeles said low and intimidatingly in Faiths face. She shook in her small boots and gave him a scowl, "One day you'll be begging to be my friend. Because I'll be your boss." She said with a bit of pride now.

Faith was a dreamer, and in her mind, she wanted to be the boss of a boy who's family held a billion dollar fortune.

She had a start, after all, she had sixty two dollars in her piggy bank. That's more than a lot of kids on this street had.

Angeles balled up his fist and drew back before throwing it to Faiths stomach. Only, it hadn't hurt her, barely actually. He'd made it look like it's hurt but it was an act, and Faith wasn't about to call him out on it. Instead, she played that it hurt and cried, forcing tears while Holton high-fived Angeles.

Faith held her stomach and as they left she turned her attention to Angeles who gave her an angry but confused look.

"Faith, come eat your dinner." Her father called again.

As Faith hurried inside, she wiped her tears and shut the door behind her kicking off her shoes and going to the kitchen, the scent of an attempted lasagna filled her nose.

He was trying, and to her that was more than enough. Faith was a very easy child, and it made her fathers life better, she rarely complained, never asked for anything without working for it, and often helped clean.

"Smells good!" She said proudly before he gave her a wide smile, "Yeah? This time I used rosemary." He said placing two slices on a plate for her.

She took the plate, thanking him before sitting at the table.

"You been crying Little Bug?" Her father asked as he took his plate to the table and sat down. As a single father, he spent a lot of time trying to keep enough money on the table to keep them okay. He wasn't sure what a father was supposed to do and he had all his parents debt on his shoulders.

She gave a small nod, "I accidentally stepped on a snail." She lied before taking another bite of her lasagna.

He felt sad, and gave a small nod, "You want to talk about it?" He asked c*****g an eyebrow at her. She shook her head, her father understood her fear of death.

"When can we move?" Faith asked looking up at her dad with a silent plead, and this was the first time she'd ever brought this up.

Her father ate quietly before staring at her plate, "Probably not for a while. Where would you want to move to?" He asked trying to make light of the situation.

Faith broke into a wide smile, "Japan." She said lifting both eyebrows high, she didn't know much Japanese, besides the basics. Watashi wa, ohaiyo, ou, roku.

A small laugh came from her father, and he gave a nod, "Japans beautiful." He agreed while they finished their lasagna.

As Faith finished and washed the dishes off, she gave her father a good night hug and went upstairs, brushing her teeth and changing into her pajamas which were just one of her moms old T-shirt's.

She laid in the bed and tried to dream of another life, one simple and sweet with money and a mother.

The sound of pounding came, then shouting, "Get the f**k down!" A strange man shouted. Faith stayed quiet and stared at the door worried.

There was shouting, more strange men, then her father shouting that he would get the money.

Faith heard the creeks of the stair steps and thought quick, she hurried to her small side table pulling the little doors open and shoving herself in the small drawer. She shut the doors and stayed silent.

The door was kicked open, then there was silence. Heavy footsteps followed, they each echoed heavily on her chest.

Her father was shouting that Faith was gone, she was at a sleepover.

Then a gunshot echoed the home, Faith knew what that meant. She knew that when her fathers voice became inaudible, that meant he was gone.

A small cry slipped her lips and she heard the heavy footsteps move toward the drawer. Her heart raced and as the small door opened, the man knelt down. He wore a ski mask, but he had the brightest of blue eyes and a scar that ran down the tip of his eye.

She shook in fear and he made eye contact with her, "Anything?" A guy shouted from down the stairs.

The man stood and shut the doors, "All clear. Let's head out." He called before walking out the room and shutting the door.

She waited until an hour passed by, her fear locking her in her place.

Eventually, she got out and went downstairs to find her fathers body missing. He was nowhere. And there was no trace of blood, it was like he was never here.

Slowly, Faith sat in the corner and dropped her face into her knees, crying softly as she realized, she was alone now.

It was just her.

It would always be, just her.

The cool breeze swept up the fall leaves that lingered over the pavement in vibrant hues of orange and red, they created a small enough tornado that the leaves themselves seemed to remind Faith of an ocean of fire.

She held both small arms out and let the wind take her along with the leaves, allowing the cool chill to gust past her brown hair and up under her favorite green sweater. It was Faiths favorite because of the memory it held, the sentimental value, and even though children only eight years old would never understand the true meaning of that value, she did.

Every single piece of her mother, she held onto tightly. From the green sweater, to the way her mother smiled at every breeze of wind.

"Faith! Come inside, dinner is ready!" Her father called to her from the kitchen window of the pink hued home. She could remember her father saying the home was taupe, and her mother saying it was in fact pink.

It's definitely pink, she thought to herself.

As Faith dropped her arms and picked the leaves from her hair, she turned and began toward the home, stopping as she noticed the little snail.

"You're in the wrong season buddy." She cooed, reaching down and going to grab it, but before she could, the crunching sound of his shell came. It followed with a short and rude laugh, and as Faith looked from the boys show up to his face, she felt her anger grow.

If there was any boy she hated more than anyone, it was Angeles Vaughn. He was the meanest, cruelest boy in the world. Faith shoved him hard and he shoved her back.

Faith went to punch him but she was grabbed, and she didn't need to turn to know who it was.  Where Angeles was, Holton always followed, and they often created mischief and chaos together.

Holton grabber Faiths arms and held her to his chest tightly, "Get her Angel!" He shouted while Angeles looked to Faith with a small uncertainty. Angeles hadn't ever hit a girl before, sure he teased Faith, pushed her back when she pushed him, and often stole her things, but he's never punched her.

In his stomach he felt the bad emotions, the worry and fear of his move.

Angeles was a wealthy young boy, as was Holton. They grew up lavishly, and had no idea what the struggle was like for Faith. Often times they'd tease her for her lack of expensive clothing, and shoes. But she didn't pay them any mind.

"One day Faith, you're going to be working for me. You'll be my little bitch." Angeles said low and intimidatingly in Faiths face. She shook in her small boots and gave him a scowl, "One day you'll be begging to be my friend. Because I'll be your boss." She said with a bit of pride now.

Faith was a dreamer, and in her mind, she wanted to be the boss of a boy who's family held a billion dollar fortune.

She had a start, after all, she had sixty two dollars in her piggy bank. That's more than a lot of kids on this street had.

Angeles balled up his fist and drew back before throwing it to Faiths stomach. Only, it hadn't hurt her, barely actually. He'd made it look like it's hurt but it was an act, and Faith wasn't about to call him out on it. Instead, she played that it hurt and cried, forcing tears while Holton high-fived Angeles.

Faith held her stomach and as they left she turned her attention to Angeles who gave her an angry but confused look.

"Faith, come eat your dinner." Her father called again.

As Faith hurried inside, she wiped her tears and shut the door behind her kicking off her shoes and going to the kitchen, the scent of an attempted lasagna filled her nose.

He was trying, and to her that was more than enough. Faith was a very easy child, and it made her fathers life better, she rarely complained, never asked for anything without working for it, and often helped clean.

"Smells good!" She said proudly before he gave her a wide smile, "Yeah? This time I used rosemary." He said placing two slices on a plate for her.

She took the plate, thanking him before sitting at the table.

"You been crying Little Bug?" Her father asked as he took his plate to the table and sat down. As a single father, he spent a lot of time trying to keep enough money on the table to keep them okay. He wasn't sure what a father was supposed to do and he had all his parents debt on his shoulders.

She gave a small nod, "I accidentally stepped on a snail." She lied before taking another bite of her lasagna.

He felt sad, and gave a small nod, "You want to talk about it?" He asked c*****g an eyebrow at her. She shook her head, her father understood her fear of death.

"When can we move?" Faith asked looking up at her dad with a silent plead, and this was the first time she'd ever brought this up.

Her father ate quietly before staring at her plate, "Probably not for a while. Where would you want to move to?" He asked trying to make light of the situation.

Faith broke into a wide smile, "Japan." She said lifting both eyebrows high, she didn't know much Japanese, besides the basics. Watashi wa, ohaiyo, ou, roku.

A small laugh came from her father, and he gave a nod, "Japans beautiful." He agreed while they finished their lasagna.

As Faith finished and washed the dishes off, she gave her father a good night hug and went upstairs, brushing her teeth and changing into her pajamas which were just one of her moms old T-shirt's.

She laid in the bed and tried to dream of another life, one simple and sweet with money and a mother.

The sound of pounding came, then shouting, "Get the f**k down!" A strange man shouted. Faith stayed quiet and stared at the door worried.

There was shouting, more strange men, then her father shouting that he would get the money.

Faith heard the creeks of the stair steps and thought quick, she hurried to her small side table pulling the little doors open and shoving herself in the small drawer. She shut the doors and stayed silent.

The door was kicked open, then there was silence. Heavy footsteps followed, they each echoed heavily on her chest.

Her father was shouting that Faith was gone, she was at a sleepover.

Then a gunshot echoed the home, Faith knew what that meant. She knew that when her fathers voice became inaudible, that meant he was gone.

A small cry slipped her lips and she heard the heavy footsteps move toward the drawer. Her heart raced and as the small door opened, the man knelt down. He wore a ski mask, but he had the brightest of blue eyes and a scar that ran down the tip of his eye.

She shook in fear and he made eye contact with her, "Anything?" A guy shouted from down the stairs.

The man stood and shut the doors, "All clear. Let's head out." He called before walking out the room and shutting the door.

She waited until an hour passed by, her fear locking her in her place.

Eventually, she got out and went downstairs to find her fathers body missing. He was nowhere. And there was no trace of blood, it was like he was never here.

Slowly, Faith sat in the corner and dropped her face into her knees, crying softly as she realized, she was alone now.

It was just her.

It would always be, just her.