• They weren't supposed to be in the woods, but everyone in that house knew that they would do exactly as they wished. It was stupid that all the adults bossed them around as much as they did. It wasn't like they were children, and they could certainly take care of themselves. A little exploring wouldn't hurt them. Charlotte felt like it had been weeks since she and her brother had been out of the domineering house. The original plan was to head to the river in back again. They wouldn't have gone far even if they hadn't found the ugly, sick man.

    "What is he?"

    "I dunno. Charlotte, have you seen him before?"

    The young brunette's brow furrowed as she stared at the grisly face of the sleeping stranger. Shaking her head in response to her little brother, the nineteen year old knelt next to the black man and set a curious hand on the side of his face. She did not recognize him, but something about him was oddly familiar. His entire, huge mass of a body was covered in mud from the rain the night before. It looked as if he had fallen asleep right there.

    "C'mon, Charlotte, Don't touch him," Aiden said, his nose wrinkling in disgust at his sister's bold action. The leaves crunched under his feet as he took three steps back. There was no way in hell he was nearing the stranger. What if he woke up?

    "Oh, shush. He's not going to hurt anyone." She brushed her finger over the grisly forehead, a smile teasing the corners of her lips. But when she saw the blood trickling slowly down the side of his forehead, the smile disappeared. "Look. He's hurt."

    Across his face was a series of gashes and bruises, as if someone with a knife had just chopped and chopped. Maybe if he wasn't such an enormous guy, it wouldn't have looked so bad. But from her point of view, he looked like a foreign race of human. What had to be his face didn't look like a normal one at all. And it wasn't just that he was beaten up. The way his face was shaped and the way his expression stayed tense and horrified despite the fact that he was dead unconscious nearly screamed that he was different from everyone else she had ever known. Although Charlotte Preston was not yet an adult, or even near the guy's age, she felt a deep connection with him. He looked to be the same age as her father, was ugly as all out, yet looked kind and gentle as could be.

    "We need to help him, Aiden." Always the leader, Charlotte reached up to tie her long, dark hair in a pony tail, and knelt down again to slowly lift the man's face, holding it in her arms. She found herself enamored with the expression on his face. All the shadows that were cast roughly on his features and all the sighs and whimpers that escaped his lips. He was fascinating. From the looks of it, the man was in his lower thirties, and young Charlotte was taking charge of him. She smiled, and whispered, "You're going to be okay."

    Looking up at Aiden, she nodded toward the man. "C'mon. Help me drag him home."

    A wave of anger hit her as his jaw dropped in horror. "What are you talking about?!" he exclaimed. "He's way too big. Look at him! He's like twice the size of Dad, Charlotte." He gave her a lopsided grin. Their father was a fairly large man, and not in heighth. Aiden found the fact quite funny, since both he and Charlotte were both in perfect shape.

    "Shut up and help me! We can do it. It's not that far away."

    "Ugh, no we can't. I'm going home to get help."

    Before she could mutter another word, Aiden had already taken off, weaving through the trees. He would arrive to the big white house in no time at all, or at least Charlotte solemnly hoped. Sighing, resisting the urge to take the nearest branch and use the advantage of having longer legs to chase down her brother and bloody him to a pulp, she rested herself comfortably on the ground with the sleeping man's head still in her lap. Absently, she began to stroke the locks of his hair, her dark eyes examining every feature of his broken, bleeding face.

    Maybe he couldn't hear her, but then again, maybe he could. Nevertheless, she talked anyway.

    "My name is Charlotte Preston," she said, her voice soft and soothing. "I'm nineteen years old, and the guy that you might have heard a minute ago was my brother, Aiden." She laughed. "Don't mind him. He really does care; he's just not as brave as me. He's only sixteen."

    She shifted her position on the slightly damp, forest floor, uncomfortable with his heavy head on her lap.
    "God, you're so big. I think you scare Aiden a bit... I do wonder what your name is, and where you come from. If you happen to hear me, would you try your hardest to talk? We're going to be here a while, after all. Aiden won't be back with Dad for another thirty minutes or so. It gets awfully lonely out here alone sometimes."

    Charlotte's laughter echoed off the trees, and she gently let her fingers untangle some of the locks of his hair. She used to spend hours upon hours here in the forest. She liked to be alone sometimes. It was nice to just sit around and listen to the wind. She waited a moment in silence, listening to his ragged breathing for any change. What if he tried to talk, but it was just really quiet? By nature, Charlotte talked rather loud, her always present confidence being her fuel. She was afraid she wouldn't hear him over her own voice. After counting to a hundred in her head, she let out a pent up sigh.

    "Well, don't worry. I won't let you be lonely, even if I am." Grinning although he could not see, she continued. "I'll let you make up for that later. You can tell me everything when you wake up. Anyway, me and Aiden live with Dad up at the big white house over by the big hill. Do you know where that is? Well, Mom bought that a long time ago. She was a brilliant writer. My God, I wonder if you've read any of her stuff. Made lots of money to take care of all of us. Dad wasn't so lucky with his job, but he does alright for a single parent. Mom had to go a couple years back. I think Aiden is still mad at her sometimes... But he doesn't understand that someday he'll go to Heaven too, you know? He's just impatient I guess. I know he'll be good, because Mom asked him to be. He'll make it to Heaven and see her again. So will I."

    The wind was blowing through the trees, and Charlotte knew that it was the most beautiful sound in the world. There really wasn't a lot of wildlife out and about here, because the forest was surrounded by so many people. Still, as she looked around her, the silence that surrounded her was unbelievably heavy. She held her breath a moment, but quickly exhaled, realizing that without her voice going, maybe the man would be afraid of the quiet. Lost in the darkness of one's own mind was a scary enough place.

    "I wonder too, do you believe in Heaven? I used to tell Mom that it was a bunch of bull crap. I mean, she even got mad at me once and took me for a walk through the grave sight up by our house. I was kind of spooked by it. I mean, have you ever been to a graveyard? I think I'm more afraid of dead people than anything, and they were all over the place. I couldn't see them, of course, but they were there. Mom showed me my grandpa's grave, and then told me to wait a moment and listen. I did, and she asked me if I heard the wind. I said that yes, I heard it, and she said, that that was Grandpa talking. That confused me a little. But Mom explained a little, and I think of what she said every day. She said that Heaven is so far away, that when people up there want to talk to us, they have to shout as loud as they can. When their voices finally reach here, they only sound like whispers, because they went such a long distance. I couldn't hear any of what Grandpa was saying, but Mom said that she had a special way to hear them. I asked her how she did it, and she just told me I would understand later. I tried to be as patient as I could with that, but its always aggravating when the parents assume I can't understand what they're talking about. I mean, I'm nearly twenty years old now. I was seventeen back then. And you know what? I think Mom was really telling the truth about how she was special. I believe her with all my heart."

    She paused a moment, lost in her own thoughts. Her voice lowered a notch. "I think I'm a little special too." Lowering her voice to a whisper, she leaned further toward the big man's face. "Can you keep a secret?"

    He did not answer, and she grinned at her own ceaseless talking to an unconscious man. But, if those in Heaven could hear her, then surely he could as well.

    "That's alright. I think I can trust you. I freeze things. Aiden gets pissed at me too." She laughed. "I set my hand on the back of Aiden's neck and watch him cringe when my fingers are all cold. Maybe what I can do wasn't as special as Mom did. I'd kill to hear her again... to hear everyone in Heaven, but it's pretty cool, right?"

    And then she saw his eyes move behind his eyelids. As the wind stirred her hair around her shoulders and swept leaves up around them, she felt her heartbeat start a race. His lips started to move, and at first, all that she heard was mumbles and murmurs.

    "You're awake?" she asked carefully, stopping her stroking of his hair.

    "Charlotte?" he said. He sounded like he was drunk. However, when Charlotte leaned forward to smell his breath, he was perfectly fine.

    "Yeah?" Her voice was breathless as excitement hit her.

    He tried to sit up, and for a moment, Charlotte tried with all her might to keep him lying down.

    "No! You're hurt. Rest. Dad'll be coming to help soon, alright?"

    But she was too small, and he was way, way too big. The man was a giant. He sat up anyway, and turned to face her. As dark as his skin was, his eyes were so very light. Never in her life had Charlotte heard of a black man having blue eyes, but this one's eyes looked like ice. Despite the enormous size of the guy, the nasty cuts and bruises, and the mud that accompanied his person, he seemed so gentle, so sincere, and she already trusted him more than her own brother.

    "I'll be fine," said his groggy voice. "Keep talking to me. What did you say about the cold?" He sounded breathless himself, and not particularly because his entire body was covered in wounds upon wounds. It sounded like he thought she had said something rather important.

    She watched as he raised a hand to his forehead, wincing as his fingers touched the tender flesh of one of his wounds.

    "What's your name?" Charlotte asked, excited he was up and functioning.

    He paused for a moment, and his bold, blue eyes met her own. The intensity of his gaze had her look at the ground for a moment. But she composed herself, and looked back up again.

    "I'm not supposed to say, Charlotte. I am sorry. What would you like to call me?"

    She paused for a moment, eying his enormity with apprehension, and she watched him smile as her eyes lit up. He was awfully secretive. Suddenly, Charlotte found herself pledging to break through the wall he was promptly building between them. "Goliath," she said.

    He laughed, leading himself to a coughing fit. "I suppose that's a nice fit, huh?"

    "You're huge."

    "You're unbelievably minuscule, child."

    Charlotte smiled, and received yet another one in return. Remembering his request, she continued on, feeling inclined to please him, even if he wasn't so apt to share information himself. There was always later. Sure as hell, Charlotte wasn't going to let him leave without explaining himself a little bit. She reached up, taking her hair down from the pony tail, and crossed her legs as she fidgeted her stance on the ground. "Well," she said. "There's really not a lot I can say. It was about the time that Mom died when I found out I can do it. It was the day I started to believe in Heaven. Funny, huh?"

    Goliath nodded, looking over her shoulder as if lost in thought. "Heaven is definitely real, Miss Preston."

    Her expression lit up. "Good to hear that."

    Before she could bring herself to press on about why in hell he had been lying on the forest floor bloody and broken, she heard the sound of rapid footsteps behind her. Turning simultaneously with her new friend, she was gifted with the sight of her little brother, and a big, fat man.

    "Dad," she said with a smile. "This is Goliath."