Broken Wings (Broken Wings 1) - Page 79

“Where’s Patty Girl?” Del asked him.

“In the bedroom playing with Cissy,” Shawn replied.

Del turned to me.

“Cissy is her imaginary friend,” he explained. “Ma’s not here?”

Shawn shook his head.

“Didn’t I ask you to clean up the house, get all your toys and Patty Girl’s back in your toy chests before I got home from work every day?”

Shawn nodded.

“Forgot,” he said.

“Well, get going,” Del ordered. “C’mon, or I won’t be buyin‘ you anything more.”

Shawn began to gather the toy cars and little soldiers.

“Gotta check on Patty Girl,” Del muttered, and I followed him to the first bedroom on the right.

There we found his sister sitting on the floor, her overly bleached pink dress spread around her, her feet shoeless, and her light brown hair hanging limply down the sides of her pretty little face. She had Del’s hazel green eyes and petite facial features. The moment she saw him she lit up, and when she saw me, she became intrigued.

“Patty Girl, did you leave your toy teacups on the living room floor again?”

“Cissy did,” she said.

He swung his eyes at me.

“Well, didn’t I tell you to be sure to tell her to clean up every day?”

“She doesn’t listen good,” Patty Girl said.

“If she doesn’t listen, you can’t have the toys to share with her anymore.”

Her face quickly saddened.

“Go help your brother clean up the hall and the living room and I’ll start making your dinner.”

“Can Cissy and I set the table?” she asked quickly.

“If you clean up,” he told her and she jumped to her feet enthusiastically.

“Say hello to Teal first,” he ordered.

She looked at me.

“Hello,” she said.


“Are you a baby-sitter?”

“No,” I said, laughing.

“I don’t need a baby-sitter. I have Cissy,” she informed me, but mostly informed Del, and then hurried out of the room, carrying a limp rag doll in her arms.

I looked at the small bedroom Patty Girl shared with Shawn. The wallpaper was pealing. The windowsill looked caked with dust, the windows cloudy. There was a wooden floor with a rug between the two beds, each bed unmade. Clothing was strewn about, over chairs, over the dresser, and on the bed. I could see there were garments dangling awkwardly from hangers in the closet.

Tags: V.C. Andrews Broken Wings Horror
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