Title: Angels in a Cage: Chapter Two, Shining Star
Rating: R [language, sexual innuedo]

Summary: Chris finally has a real band... or something. The influence of Alyssa's mother stretches far.




With a few instructions, the young children were released into free play time. While the others cheered and hurried off to their favorite play areas, the young brunette girl remained sitting on the nap mats. She hadn’t really talked much with the other preschoolers or even the teacher. During their play time, during their recesses, even during their lunch breaks, the young girl kept to herself, often sitting in a corner, hazel eyes turned down to the floor. And it was starting to worry her teacher, especially since the other children had warmed up to the classroom atmosphere, warmed up to each other. But seemingly not this one particular child.

As the other children played together, the teacher approached the young girl. Sitting on the nap mats beside her, she regarded the child silently for a long moment. The child looked over at her briefly, before her eyes once more darted back down to the floor.

“Alyssa?” the older woman spoke up, drawing the girl’s attention. “Why do you not go play with the others?”

“Mother says playing is bad,” she responded in a soft voice.

“Why is that?”

“The devil invented play in order to tempt us to sin, Sister Frances,” she explained, still not looking up at the woman.

The teacher frowned, “Do you truly believe that a class sanctioned by God would have playtime if it was invented by the devil?”

She looked at her hands for a moment before glancing at the teacher, “Perhaps it is a test.”

“Do you think that we would intentionally set up a test so that you could fail the trial?” Sister Frances asked.

“Mother does all the time.”

The teacher looked at the young girl for a long time. She wanted nothing more than to gather the girl in her arms and show her what love was like. It concerned her greatly that she had such an opinion of her mother. Having never met Mrs. Morgan, as the girl’s father was the one who dropped her off and picked her up daily, Sister Frances had no frame of reference for such statements from the child. Her training and her instincts though rang a million bells in her mind. This child was one who would need extra nurturing whenever she could. And that would begin immediately, as she tried to scale the girl’s walls.

“God teaches us lessons in many forms, Alyssa,” she proclaimed. “In fact, I’ve got a couple of coloring books he uses for lessons.”

“What’s a coloring book?” the girl asked innocently.

Holding out her hand to the girl after standing, the teacher declared, “Why don’t you come with me and I’ll show you?”



Polishing off yet another beer, Chris glanced over at his roommate before tossing the empty bottle across the room into the trash can. The bottle shattered as it hit the inside edge of the can, causing the drummer to smirk at his luck. He adjusted himself in his pants, legs splayed wide. Finding that wasn’t quite comfortable, as he had an itch, Chris moved his junk around some unashamedly before reaching for a pack of cigarettes smashed in the breast pocket of his flannel shirt.

“So, uh, dude,” Chris finally broke the hours long silence as he lit up his cigarette, “we should form a band. Me, you, and uh, Kim.”

Hiro finished off his beer before flinging the bottle at the trash can, “Who’s gonna sing?”

“I will,” he answered, immediately.

“You can do that and drum at the same time?”

“Sure,” Chris shrugged.

Shrugging, the bassist replied, “I’m in if Kim’s in. You call him.”

The following day, all three men sat in the same living room, passing a bowl around. It wasn’t the best stuff that he had smoked before, but it was decent enough to share. Although to be honest if he had shit, he would share that too, just to get rid of it quicker. That really wasn’t the point of the get together though but Chris was struggling to remember what that point was. Whatever, they could finish the bowl and figure it out later.

“So, Chris,” Kim passed the bowl to his left where Hiro sat, “a band huh?”

That was it. That was why they were all together.

“Sure,” he nodded slowly. “We already play good together, so why not?”

He shrugged, reaching for his bottle of beer, “Sure. What are we gonna call ourselves?”

All three fell silent. Hiro focused on the bowl of pot in his hands, Chris stared blankly at the wall, Kim nursed on his beer bottle. Words jumbled in Chris’s mind, nothing really making any sense. Maybe the drugs were better than he thought, maybe they were laced with something that didn’t go into effect right away, maybe—

“Sound Garden,” Chris muttered.

“No, dude, I don’t feel like going to the park right now. I don’t think I can even stand,” Kim retorted.

“No no. Our name should be Sound Garden.”

“Like the fucking eerie pipes?”

He nodded slowly or quickly, he couldn’t tell.

Kim shrugged, “Fine by me. What about you, Hiro?”

“I’m hungry,” he declared. “You guys want pizza?”

“Sound Garden it is,” the guitarist stated. “Now let’s get some fucking food before Hiro eats the armrest.”



It had gone too far, too long, and she would not take it any longer. The girl was nearly four years old, it was about time she learned some discipline, learned her role in life. It started right then and there. Stalking towards the young girl sequestered in the wooden playpen since returning home from preschool ill, Emilie slapped the little girl’s hands that clung to the edge of the playpen. Gasping softly, Alyssa withdrew her hands, big tears welling up in her eyes. Her mother stooped down and scooped her up, releasing her from the too tight confines. However she did not comfort the child in the least. Instead she slapped the girl’s quivering mouth and dropped her on the floor. Luckily Alyssa crumpled in the motion, instinctively keeping herself from injury in such. Emilie’s hand instantly circled the girl’s wrist once more, yanking her up to her feet.

“Because of your insubordination and blatant disregard for my authority, you will sweep and clean the hard surfaces in the entire house,” she declared, pulling the child into the kitchen.

Knowing better than to argue, even at her tender age of three and a half, Alyssa stared silently as her mother pulled a broom and dustpan from the mudroom closet. She didn’t really understand what her mother was asking of her, but it was rather nice to be out of that cramped playpen. She wondered if the other children in her class still had to sit in playpens when their daddies weren’t home. And she wondered if her daddy would get her a coloring book too. She liked coloring books.

A hand slapped her cheek, bringing her attention right back to her mother who held out a broom to her. Hand shaking, Alyssa accepted it. She had seen her mother use it before and even the girls at school had little ones they played with, but she had never touched one before. Brooms belonged to mothers and it was bad to touch mothers’ things. But now her mother wanted her to take it, to use it, apparently.

“Go ahead. Get to work,” Emilie declared. “I will return in five minutes. You best be done by then.”

Her mother stalked off, leaving her with the stick that was twice as tall as her. Staring at it for a moment, she figured she could just mimic what the girls did at school and that would suffice. Fingers from both hands wrapped around the wooden handle and she swished it side to side. She didn’t really know what it was doing or why she was doing it, but she swished down the middle of the kitchen. Motion in the easily visible window in the family room caught her eyes. Without much thought she released the broom and rushed into the room, grinning at seeing a cat sitting on the brick ledge outside the window. Alyssa waved at the kitty, slapping her hand on the glass pane. The cat looked at her briefly before jumping down. Deciding she would purse the cat, Alyssa headed over to the front door, standing on her toes to twist the lock and pull open the door.

Before she opened the door fully, a cold hand closed over hers, pulling her hand off of the doorknob. The force of the action immediately made her fingers throb, even as blood was restricted by the tight grip about her wrist. She did not dare to look up at her mother at all, just knowing that murder would be upon her mother’s face.

“Did you think that you could escape your responsibility by running away?” a venomous voice demanded.

“I just wanted to pet the kitty,” Alyssa remarked softly.

She pulled the little girl back down the hall towards the playpen without a word. Brusquely scooping Alyssa up, Emilie dropped her back into the enclosure. Her chin hit the plastic coated edge of the playpen, causing her small teeth to cut the tip of her tongue. Unable to restrain herself, Alyssa instantly cried out as blood filled her mouth. Her cries instantly silenced when a hand struck her face again.

“You will repent your evil thoughts,” Emilie declared darkly. “I will return once that is complete.”



Rolling out of bed, Chris glanced over his shoulder. Smirking to himself, he stretched before standing and looking around for his clothes. For a long moment he debated internally about staying until morning to really see who it was he had just fucked or to high-tail it out of there. His biggest issue is he had no idea where the fuck there was. He supposed the easiest way to find out would be to pull his shirt, pants, and boots on and head outside. And once there it would be foolish to return, just to get undressed again. Unless of course he could wake up whoever for another round of sex. He thought it had been good sex, but he couldn’t really remember. Everything was a bit fuzzy.

Which meant his buzz had completely crashed.

Yeah, he was leaving. With the decision made, Chris quickly dressed, felt around his pockets for his wallet and cigarettes and headed out of the bedroom. Though he didn’t really have to, he did move about as quietly as possible, hoping to not wake... well whoever she was. He didn’t really want to wake her, but not out of any care for her. It was more that he didn’t want that awkward moment of ‘hey, we fucked but I have no idea who you are.’ It was better if he snuck out unseen, unnoticed.

Stepping out of the apartment, Chris looked around the hallway, trying to determine where the stairs or elevator were as he lit up a cigarette. From the hallway alone, he knew he hadn’t been dragged back to some dingy ass building. This girl had some class. Or money. Those things weren’t mutually exclusive. Maybe he should have stayed in bed with her, she might be able to finance his life so he could spend his nights playing music.

“Ha, funny,” he muttered to himself, heading down the hallway, figuring he would find some sort of exit at the end of the corridor.

Approaching an elevator bay, Chris ground out his cigarette on a decorative faux-stone table near the elevator before pushing the button down. Having a tiny bit of remorse for his actions, he brushed at the dark mark left by the cigarette while waiting for the lift to arrive. It chimed sweetly, almost mockingly so, before he managed to rub out the mark at all. Shrugging, Chris headed into the elevator and pressed the ground floor button. Rocking on his heels, he watched the light indicate which floor he was on as he descended.

“Well fuck,” he muttered, realizing the apartment he had just left was near the top of the building. “Maybe I should go back.”

Instead he stepped out of the elevator, striding purposefully towards the door. He wasn’t going to sell his soul and fuck some chick just so he could lead a happy musical life. If things were meant to be, they would. The fact nothing had even resisted his departure surely meant he was supposed to leave. This was confirmed upon his exit as he glanced around the neighborhood. He really did not belong in Bellevue at all and honestly wondered how he was going to get back home. Shrugging he started down the street, hoping to find either a pay phone or a cab.

Digging out another cigarette, he paused in his walk to light it. Inhaling the lovely flavor, wondering whose pack he had stolen as he had never smoked that particular brand before, Chris continued down the street. The night was young or at least it felt that way. It was difficult to tell without looking at a watch, which he never wore, and the sky was still dark. Wait, no it wasn’t; it was just fucking cloudy again. But the clouds had a slight sheen of light filtering through. And come to think of it, more cars than he would expect to in the middle of the night, had driven by. That meant it was much later in the day than he thought. Could he be late to work because of it? Did he even have to work that day?

Finding a pay phone, he fished in his pockets for change. Finding none, he decided the current panic beginning to course through his veins warranted calling his roommate collect. Besides he paid half of the phone bill anyways. Waiting for the operator to ring him through to Hiro, hoping that the bassist was in fact awake, not passed out from his own post-gig activities, Chris dropped the cigarette on the sidewalk, snuffing it out with the toe of his boot.

“Chris?” a familiar voice finally answered.

“Hey, man, what time is it?”

“Like seven in the morning,” he responded.

“Oh, well that’s good. Do I work today?”

“Why the fuck would I know that?”

Chris smirked, “Well what day is it?”

“What the fuck did you smoke last night?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Sunday.”

He paused, trying to remember if he was supposed to be at the restaurant that Sunday, “Hey, could you come pick me up? I’m kinda stranded.”

Hiro sighed, “Where are you this time, Chris?”



Stepping out of his office, Howard silently crept over to his secretary, ushering her in with a simple gesture. Her eyes left his briefly to glance at the young girl sleeping on the couch before nodding and following him into the office. Leaving the door open though she probably should have closed it, she quickly turned to her boss, her arms snaking around his neck. Their mouths met ever so briefly before he extricated himself from her embrace.

“I can’t keep bringing Alyssa back here after school,” he commented, pacing away from the pretty brunette. “It’s not fair to her. She should be outside playing in puddles, making mud pies. She should be giggling with other children and making friends.”

“Howard,” Marilyn spoke softly, her hands running over his shoulders, massaging them slightly as his back was to her, “I know you love that little girl very much, but maybe the best thing is to leave your wife.”

“I can’t,” he responded, turning back to her.

“Why not? She clearly does nothing for you and certainly doesn’t for your daughter or else you would let her stay at home,” she pointed out. “When was the last time you even had sex with your wife?”

“Alyssa’s conception is the only time I have ever had sex with my wife,” he responded truthfully.

She blinked, “Really?”

He nodded.

“Are you sure Alyssa is yours?”

His brown eyes instantly darkened, “Of course she is. Emilie hasn’t had sex with anyone else besides me. I’m the only one who could have fathered her.”

“Okay, okay. Back to the question at hand: why can’t you leave Emilie?”

“Because we would both be excommunicated.”

Her eyebrow arched, “Huh. I never thought of you as a devout Catholic. Isn’t what we do after hours against the commandments?”

“I’m not. But Emilie is. I couldn’t take that from her,” he proclaimed.

Marilyn snorted, “So you stay with her, afraid to leave your daughter with her for reasons you won’t explain to me, just so that she won’t be excommunicated? That’s some fucked up logic, Howard.”

He rubbed his face, “I can’t explain it any more than that right now, Marilyn. I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” she paused, glancing into her office at the little girl sleeping on the couch. “What of Alyssa? Why can’t she stay at home with her mother after school?”

“Do you remember that day about six months ago when I came in fuming about playpens?”

Marilyn nodded cautiously.

“Well Emilie had apparently been making Alyssa stay in one when she was home alone with her. And the night before when I returned home, she had clearly done somethingto my little girl. There were bruises on her wrist and her cheeks and tongue were swollen,” he explained.

Her eyes widened, “Why the hell didn’t you have her arrested for child abuse then and end all of this shit?”

“I can’t. You don’t understand.”

“You’re damn right I don’t understand, Howard. If you love that little girl as much as you say you do, you would see that her mother gets the proper treatment reserved for bitches who beat their children,” she retorted.

“And how would that change the situation? I would still have to bring Alyssa here after school,” Howard pointed out.

“Make arrangements with the school to keep her longer. I’m sure they would do that. Or fuck, I’ll find you the best daycare near here that you can drop her off at,” she suggested. “Get rid of Emilie, Howard.”

“I don’t want strangers raising my daughter.”

Marilyn stared at him for a minute, “What do you mean?”

“I don’t want my daughter to be raised by strangers in a daycare.”

She sighed, “I love you, Howard. You know that. But my job description does not include babysitting your four year old daughter. I have enough to do with all of the paperwork that filters through me. In case you haven’t noticed, you’re the DA’s shining star right now. There’s even talks of promoting you to assistant DA over the family support division, Howard. You’re a busy man and that makes me a busy woman. I don’t have time to chase your daughter all over the office, to make certain she doesn’t color on legal documents, to—”

“Has she done any of those?” he interrupted.

“Well no. She’s a very well-behaved little girl. Keeps almost entirely to herself when she’s here. But the point is if she were to do such things, I don’t have the time to watch over her nor should I have to,” Marilyn argued.

“I’m not leaving my daughter with strangers,” he repeated.

“Then talk to her school. You clearly trust them enough to keep her for the school day. There must be something else they can do,” she suggested. “And leave your wife, Howard. Fuck what the Pope says, clearly you don’t hold his beliefs in high esteem anyways, or you wouldn’t spend your lunch hour inside me. Leave the bitch.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. And yes, you should. You know you should.”

“Daddy?” a soft voice interrupted the conversation.

His eyes instantly turned towards the door where Alyssa stood, her hair all messy from sleep, her fingers rubbing her eyes, “What’s up, buttercup?”

“I hungry,” she declared. “And I wanna go home.”

He closed the few feet between them and scooped up the little girl, kissing her nose, “Well good, because I’m just about ready to go home. It’s kinda late though, so we’ll stop at the diner for dinner, okay?”

She nodded, laying her head on his shoulder, “I love you, Daddy.”