The Guardian Angel

"Do you believe in angels, Emmy?"
The little raven-haired girl nodded vigorously. "Of course I believe in angels! Angels watch over you when you're in danger, angels protect you when you need to be protected."
Emmy's mother smiled softly and smoothed out her daughter's hair. "That's right baby, and always remember that."
The 7-year-old grinned at her mother, showing her missing tooth gap. She laid her head up against her mother's soft robe and closed her eyes. The woman also known as Leanna began to stroke her daughter's curly black locks gently. She sighed in content.
'I wish it could always be this way...', Leanna thought with much sadness. 'How am I supposed to tell my 7-year-old that I have cancer and I only have so much time to live? Emmy will never understand... for goodness sake, she’s only 7 and with her father Thane's recent death and all...'
Leanna was startled out of her thoughts when she heard her daughter mutter something, only to realize she was talking in her sleep. She smiled lovingly down at her and picked her up to carry her to her bed. She placed her gently under the covers and kissed her goodnight.
"My beautiful daughter... I love you, and I always will, remember that. May God and the angels bless you, and watch over you when I'm gone," she whispered.
~*~
1 year later Leanna died. That's when the now 8-year-old Emmy moved in with her grandparents. Her grandparents. The harsh, strict people she had only met once in her lifetime.
"Hurry up, Emary!" Her grandmother scolded, looking back at the girl struggling to carry her bags.
"Don't call me Emary, my name is Emmy," she mumbled. She could almost see her grandmother roll her eyes, even though her back was towards her.
"No it's not, that's just a silly nickname your mother gave you. Your given name is Emary."
"But Emary is a stupid name, I like Emmy much better," Emmy protested. Her grandmother spun around and lifted her finger under Emmy's chin.
"I'll call you by your given name, and don't you dare talk back, young lady," she growled.
Emmy sighed and nodded. She knew already she would hate it here.
'This isn't what mommy would've wanted,' Emmy thought to herself. 'She would've wanted me to stay with Aunt Joan, not these people. Aunt Joan is a nice lady.'
Emary continued to drag her stuffed suitcase to the house. Her grandparents absolutely refused to help her.
"You got to do things for yourself," her grandfather told her. "It makes you strong. Gives you backbone."
"But mommy would've--"
"I don't care what your mommy would've done," he said coldly. "Your mommy was a coward. She was weak. That's why she didn't live very long."
"You don't know anything!" Emmy had yelled. "You didn't know her, she wasn't weak at all! She was brave, and strong, and kind, and beautiful, you're just jealous!" Emmy could feel tears fill her hazel eyes.
"Don't you dare cry! Crying only shows weakness," he spat at her.
Her lip began to tremble and she screamed, "I hate you!" before running off blindly.
Emmy didn't know where she was going, but she figured any place would be better than here. She continued to run, running passed the house, passed the neighbors, and into the woods. Thorns snagged at the pink dress she was wearing, but she didn't care. The only thing she cared about now was getting as far away from reality as possible. Finally, Emmy came to a stop beside a beautiful pond. Tears were still streaming down her face. She sat down on the edge of the pond and pulled her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth.
"Mommy, where are you?" she cried. "Where are you? You said you'd never leave me, but you did. Why mommy, why?" Her words only made her cry harder. Emmy squeezed her eyes shut tightly, not ceasing her crying. After a few minutes of crying, Emmy found she couldn't cry anymore. It seemed as if she had cried herself dry. Her little hands wiped the tears from her cheeks as she stared down at her reflection in the glass-like water. Her eyes, she saw, were red and puffy, her face flushed. She sighed, leaning back on the soft grass.
Emmy could remember the last words her mother ever said to her.
Flashback:
"Mommy, are you gonna be okay?" Emmy asked, resting her head on her mother's shoulder. Her mother had been in the hospital for a week now, and Emmy had been right beside her every moment.
Her mother smiled sadly and sighed. "I'm afraid not, honey..."
Hot, wet teardrops slowly slid down Emmy's face. "Are you gonna die, mommy? Are you gonna leave me like daddy did?"
Leanna's breathing had become shaky as she stared at her daughter's tear-stained face. "Honey, daddy didn't leave you…he's always been here. No one truly dies as long as there's someone out there to remember them."
Emmy nodded, her eyes fixed at the floor. "I will remember you, I promise."
Leanna smiled. "I know you will, baby. Oh and sweetheart, if you are ever in need of some faith, just look at the sky and you'll see my face. I will be with God, honey. I'll be with the angels. Me, God, and the angels will watch over you."
End flashback
Thinking about this made Emmy want to cry again. She looked at the purple, pink, and blue colors swirling in the sky. Biting her lip, Emmy searched the heavens for her mother's soft face and smile. She saw nothing.
"Why did you lie, mommy?" Emmy cried. "Why? Where are you? I thought you'd said you'd be there! You were supposed to be there!" Emmy began to shake uncontrollably. Then, realization struck her.
'They turned their back on me…,' Emmy thought with shock.
"How could you do this, mommy?! How could you turn your back on me?! All of you did! The angels, too! The angels turned their back on me…"
That was the day Emary stopped believing in angels. That was the day she changed.
~*~
Somewhere, on the other side of the world, while Emmy was busy with her own problems, a boy died. A boy who, like Emmy, had lost all faith in the angels. It was all over the headlines. The spoiled, rich brat known as Artemis had died. Drowned in a lake. He was only 15. Most people closed their eyes and shook their head when they read this. Such a pity some thought. Artemis had belonged to a rich family. He was known for his tricks, most had thought of him as a delinquent.
Artemis knew he would drown when he fell in. He knew, for he could not swim. His last thought had been that no one had ever truly knew the real him, and now no one ever would. Or so he thought. But of course, that was before he became the guardian angel of a girl who was just like him.