I had no choice, thought Miss
Willows as she paced the living room. Her plush robe trailed behind her like a
shadow as she pressed lightly in her slippers. Miss Willows did not want to
wake the children in the middle of a battle against her conscious. Sighing, she
finally retreated on the sofa chair in front of the hearth. The cotton fit
comfortably around the woman’s small stature and loosened the tension tight in
her wrinkled skin. Maybe the serenity of the crackling fire would make her
forget about the whole situation, and the children. Oh, but they were like
nagging images. Like things you want to forget, but just can’t.
The fire snapped and her eyes
tightened as she glanced at the cutout ad on her coffee table. She didn’t want
to look at the bad she had done. So, she turned her tired eyes to the pictures
hanging over the hearth. She mashed her lips together. Her sister, Bailey’s
bright brown eyes smiled back at her. Miss Willows remembered the promised she made
to Bailey before she died. She promised she would take in her children, but she
just couldn’t hold up to it anymore. Miss Willow’s mind raced thinking about
it. They became too hard to handle. Miss Willows wasn’t wrong in tiring of the
children. Who wouldn’t pass out after moving the eldest from school to school
because of a bad attitude? On top of that, the other one won’t stop peeing in
the bed from nightmares even the finest therapists couldn’t decipher. The boy
of the bunch had been an angel, but his bad language embarrassed Miss Willows
wherever she went. What more can Miss Willows do?
She worried for them, but tomorrow they would no longer be
her problem, her migraine, her stress and she can live in peace. Still, Raven
Academy seemed a little much for them. She found the school in the phone book.
It was a boarding school and the only one that would take in the children (and
the records with them). She didn’t meet the principal, but talked to her over
the phone. Miss Willows should’ve been more suspicious that the principal made
every excuse for them not to actually meet, but the glee at getting rid of the
children overrode the thought. The woman had a very mature voice too. The
children will be fine, she reassured herself. She shook her head and the fire
died down. She flicked the rest of the lights off and prepared for bed.
She took one last glance at the pictures over the hearth.
“Forgive me, Bailey,” she murmured, but she knew the guilt would not subside
until the children were out of her sight. Now, she disgusted and guilty. Maybe the
pictures had to go too.