My peers ruthlessly pushed me into the pile of mud, and left me there, sniggering as they walked away. They had given me a black eye, and had punched me so much that my body had become a pile of pulp, as I lay there, unable to get up. When I opened my eyes, I saw a pair of sandaled feet in front of me. When I looked up, I looked into a beautiful pair of violet eyes full of motherly warmth. The lady knelt down, gave me her hand and helped me up onto my feet. I could hardly stand, let alone walk, and seeing me stumble, Violet Eyes put my arm around her neck and supported me as I took one painful step at a time. In the sweetest, most motherly voice, I had ever heard, she said to me, "I'll take you to my home where I'll watch over your recovery." I wanted to protest and tell her that I didn't want to cause her any trouble, but I was hurt, and by this time she had already gently helped me into the back seat of her old Mercedes car.
I was from a broken home, where my mother had died at the age of seventeen, right after giving birth to an immature me. My father was mostly in jail, as he was a drug addict. When he was not locked up in a jailhouse, he was in our one room apartment, getting high and then hitting me till I could move no more. I knew of no other living family other than my father, and for this reason I was forced to live on the dangerous streets of New York City, where watching rape and murder was a normal everyday thing, where drug dealing was the easiest business to make money from, and where getting beat up was a part of everyday life. I went to high school like every seventeen year old does, but even there I was an outcast, as no one accepts a kid from a broken home.
I groaned in pain as Violet Eyes helped me out of her car and onto the sidewalk. I was standing in front of a huge back gate, which had a sign on it reading, "Angel House". She opened the gate and helped me walk to her front porch, where she opened the door and led me into a huge living room. Violet Eyes was a very rich person, having one of the biggest mansions I had ever seen. She helped me down on a black leather couch and went to get some hot salt water, ice packs, and some Band-Aids. She came back, sat on the floor and started tending to my wounds in the same way a mother would. Seeing my bruised chest, she frowned and said, "They really hurt you badly, didn't they?" I just nodded as I held the ice pack over my black eye. Then she asked me, "What's your name?"
"How old are you? Why were those guys beating you up so ruthlessly?" Something in her warm violet eyes made me trust her.
"I'm seventeen. Frankly speaking, I have no idea why I was being beaten up. Probably because I'm a nobody."
She frowned again, this time at my statement, and said, "No one is a nobody. Everyone is just as important as the next person. Plus, everyone has the right to live, and if someone is not letting you live, you must fight for your rights."
The truth in her statement hit me, but I kept quiet, not knowing what to say. After she had cleaned up all my wounds and bruises, she looked me in the eye and said, "Tell me about your family."
"My mother died when I was born. My father is a drug addict and spends most of his time in jail. I know of no other family. May I know your name?"
Violet Eyes gave me a warm smile as she said, "My name is Rachel. Sorry about your mother, I too don't have a family. My husband and two sons died two years ago in a car accident. Since then I've been alone. You must be hungry; I'll get you something to eat. Do you want to watch some television?"
"Sorry about your loss. No, Ms. Rachel, I don't want to be of any trouble. I think I'll just go home, no need to get me anything to eat, I'm not hungry."
"You'll be staying here until you get well enough to walk on your own. I do not want to hear any protests from your side. Think of me as your mother."
That was exactly what I did, for she lifted me up in the same way a mother would lift up her son. She cooked me a spectacular chicken dish, and I had the first filling meal in almost three years. She struck up conversation near the end of the meal, "How was the food? I made it myself?"
I smiled and answered, "It was the best food I've ever had."
"Glad you liked it. Living on the streets must be hard. Few turn out as nice and polite as you. Tell me, how did you survive the street life?"
I don't know why she was so easy to trust, but within minutes, I found myself telling her my whole survival story, something I had never told anyone about. I poured my heart out to this violet-eyed woman who I had just met two hours ago. I told her about how my father abused me every time he came home, I told her about how I would sell fake cocaine nuts to crazed drug addicts to get money, I told her about how I was constantly beaten up and how I had even been shot five times. I told her about the worst time of my life when I didn't even have a penny to buy myself even the basic necessities of everyday life and how I spent those nights in the dark of my one room apartment, killing rats with a broken baseball bat. I couldn't even afford to buy a new light bulb at the time. It was just luck that I eventually found a sign that said it needed a boy to run around doing all the lowly dirty tasks for a shop. Thus I spent my day at school and my nights in the shop working for below minimum wages. I told her that I went to school so I could get an education and possibly have a slightly better life in the future. By the time I finished telling her my story, we were both crying and three hours had passed by.
Rachel helped me up and walked me to one of the bedrooms where she told me to rest for the rest of the night. Her hands seemed to be magic, for my body aches were gone completely, and I felt so much better than I had ever felt in my entire life. Instantly I fell asleep on the warm bed and for the first time in my life, I had sweet dreams instead of nightmares.
The next morning I woke up to see the sun shining, lighting up the whole room. It took me a moment to figure out where exactly I was, and on doing so, I smiled. Yet a thought haunted me, someday I would be forced to go back to my old life as I couldn't live here forever. I decided I would leave that day itself just so I didn't get used to the comfort in Violet Eyes' home. I opened the room's door, and found my way to the living room. Rachel was sitting on the couch watching the news. On seeing me, she smiled and asked, "How did you sleep last night? Feeling any better?"
I smiled and said, "It was the most peaceful sleep I have ever had. Thank you, I feel so much more alive!"
Then Rachel said something which shocked me, "Chris, I've been thinking, neither of us have a family. So I was wondering, will you be my son? For some reason, you remind me of my dead sons, and once again life seems to have color in it, thanks to you."
I was so bewildered, I didn't know what to say. Finally, when I calmed myself down, I said, "I can't, I can't be a burden on you. I don't want you to regret this in the future. I'm just a stranger, what if I turn out to be spoilt blood?"
"Son, I know I'll never regret this, I want a family, someone I can live for. Why is it that in you I see my sons? I know that it sounds very weird, but I'm serious. I want to adopt you, give you a proper direction in life and help you stand on your own two feet. A son can never be a burden on his mother, and this holds good for you as well. Take some time and think it out. I just know that you can't be spoilt blood, mainly because of the fact that you yourself brought it up. I trust you."
I took the whole day to come to a decision, but finally decided that for once in life, I needed a mother's guidance. I may sound selfish and shameless, burdening myself on her, but for the first time in my life, I had finally felt motherly love. And so violet-eyed Rachel became my caring mother.
Almost as if I had been touched by an angel, my life drastically improved. I never had to see the street life again, the bullies in high school stopped picking on me, my grades greatly improved, and I made it onto the varsity basketball team. To top that off, I now had the most caring mother in the world. She never screamed at me or punished me if I did anything wrong, but just spoke to me like a friend and made me realize my mistake. Within a month, my life went from hell to heaven, and I owed it all to Mom.
I went on to pass out of high school with an excellent profile, and did so well in the SATs that I easily got into Cornell. That was where Mom had passed out from, and it was where she wanted me to go. To make her dream come true, I went to Cornell to study business. Just a year ago, I had absolutely no plan in life, I had absolutely no direction, and today I had my whole life planned out for me.
I had been in Cornell for six months, when I got a phone call. Violet Eyes had been diagnosed with breast cancer and she had never told me about it. The whole thing came as a shock to me, and in a daze I flew back home to watch her take her last few breaths before she said goodbye. I met her in the hospital, on her deathbed, she looked at me with her breathtaking violet eyes, smiled, and then passed away to a land beyond that of our materialistic world. I cried my heart out; never had I cried so much in my life. Violet Eyes, who had been my foundation, who had been my angel, was now gone, and I was alone all over again.
The funeral was held the next day. She looked so beautiful and peaceful in her coffin, she still looked so alive. She had a slight smile on her face and I knew she died in peace. After all the religious ceremonies, I waited by her grave for about an hour, crying, and praying for her soul's peace.
Then I got up, left a red rose on her tombstone, and then decided to go home. When I reached "Angel House", I found an old, torn down house in its place. Thinking I had taken the wrong turn, I drove all around that area looking for it, but found it nowhere. Finally I returned to the desolated, torn down house. I knocked on my neighbor's door and was greeted by an old woman. I questioned her about what happened to "Angel House", and she invited me to come in where she could explain everything properly.
"The house was torn down eight years ago. Rachel Turner owned the place all to herself after her husband and two kids had died in 1995. Two years after that she died due to breast cancer, and in her Will, she wanted "Angel House" to be torn down as she didn't want anyone else living in it. As far as I know, she left her 50 million dollar property to her dead sister's only son, whom she had never met, but knew about his whereabouts at the time. He was much too young to get the property at that time, so when he was to turn nineteen, he was supposed to be given all her property and money. No one knows where he is or who he is, but everything is written in the Will. I think I know about the boy's father though, I heard that he was in jail around three years ago, though I'm not too sure. By any chance did you know Rachel?"
I was so shocked hearing what I had just heart that without saying anything, I stumbled out of that house. I looked at the torn down house as tears streamed down my face. I was suddenly nauseous as I stood there, and the next minute I was vomiting. What I had just heard couldn't be true, it just couldn't. How could have Mom died eight years ago if just this morning I had attended her funeral? I drove back to the graveyard to prove myself right. When I came to her grave, what I saw shocked me…
1960 – 1997
A violet-eyed Angel ever ready to give out her helping hand to those who were less fortunate. May her beautiful soul R.I.P.
I knelt down in utter shock and wept. It couldn't be possible, but apparently it was. I had been crying for almost two hours by my Angel's grave when I felt a tap on my shoulder. A man dressed as a lawyer stood there looking down at me. What shocked me was his beautiful violet eyes as he smiled a warm sunny smile.
He said, "Are you the son of Chelsea and Frank Robinson?"
I nodded for they were my real parents though I had never gotten any motherly or fatherly love from either of them. He smiled and led me to his car. "We have to get your DNA test done to make sure you aren't lying about your identity. I've spent the last three months looking for you, as there's something you need to know. Do you know that Rachel Turner was your mother's sister, making her your aunt?"
His words came as a shock to me and I shook my head, wondering how many more shocks the day would bring me. He continued, "I'm Sean, Rachel's lawyer while she was alive. According to her Will, you are the lone owner of her then 50 million dollar, but now 2.4 billion dollar property and money. She never met you while she was alive as it was a promise she had given her sister, your mother. When her husband and two kids died, and when she found out she has breast cancer, she transferred all her property to your name, and asked me to find you when you turned nineteen and had all this money over to you. She was truly a wonderful person, as few would actually help out those in need of their help. Everyone who knew her well felt awful about her death eight years ago –"
I interrupted him and asked, "Then for me, why was it that she died only yesterday?" Alas, she found me herself and helped me stand on my own two feet. She became my Guardian Angel, and made herself an actual living presence in my life. It was true that God sent an Angel down to those who needed him most. Rachel was my mother, my Angel, my dear Violet Eyes…
A/N: I know, it was kind of long, so sorry for the inconvinence. How was it? I know, it's basically impossible, but hey, it's just a story, isn't it?