Linda Natum climbed out of the car, wiping a tear from her eye as her father drove away. Another tear fell and this time she didn�t bother to wipe it away, letting it fall onto her dress, joining the many other tears she had cried this past week.
Linda picked up the end of her trunk and proceeded to drag it across King�s Cross Station towards Platform 9 and �. She couldn�t afford to miss that train. School was her only sanctuary left, even though it was almost like torture itself.
She walks to school with the lunch she packed
Nobody knows what she's holdin' back
Wearin' the same dress she wore yesterday
She hides the bruises with linen and lace
�I had a little accident,� Linda said, wincing as she peeled off the dress to let Madam Pomfrey examine the bruises along her back.
Madam Pomfrey gave her a look of concern, but didn�t say a word. She just lifted her wand and muttered the spell to heal the wounds. But Linda had learned long ago that the worst of the scars could not be healed by magic. The worst of the scars was in her soul, which could only be healed one way.
The teacher wonders but she doesn't ask
It's hard to see the pain behind the mask
Bearing the burden of a secret storm
Sometimes she wishes she was never born
Linda sat up in bed, unable to sleep. Summer holidays started tomorrow, but she didn�t want to go home. Every year she dreaded this day like the plague itself. Yet every year it came, and every summer she had to endure the pain, because she was too afraid to tell anyone about it. And even if she did it wouldn�t matter. No one cared about her.
Linda went to her trunk and pulled out a small jewelry box. Inside were her most precious treasures, a crystal necklace and a pocketknife, both of which had belonged to her mother. After her mother died, these had been the only things Linda had been able to save when her father had thrown everything else away.
Now, Linda put on the crystal, feeling it�s protective powers radiating around her. Too bad it couldn�t protect her from what she needed it most for. She then picked up the knife and flicked it open, admiring the way the light from the firelight danced across the polished blade.
She moved the blade over her wrist stopping to hover over the vein. She could end it all now if she wanted. She wouldn�t have to go home. She could be with her mother, finally be in a place where someone cared about her.
A crash of thunder made Lisa jump and the knife fell from her hand, bouncing slightly on the floor. Lisa bent to pick it up and put it back in the box. She wasn�t brave enough to go through with it. She put the box away and climbed into bed.
And when she fell asleep she dreamed of going to the place. The place where people cared about her, and anything was possible. The place where there would be no reason to cry.
Through the wind and the rain
She stands hard as a stone
In a world that she can't rise above
But her dreams give her wings
And she flies to a place where she's loved
Concrete angel
�Get out of my way!�
Linda cried out and fell to the ground as her father slapped her with the force of a speeding truck. Instead of getting up, she just lay there, weeping.
�I said move!� her father shouted, kicking her in the ribs. A splitting pain exploded in her side and she whimpered, crawling over to the side of the room, out of the way.
�If you�re just going to get in my way, you might as well just get out the hell of my house!� he roared, his face red with fury. �You�re a bitch, just like your mother, and you�ll never amount to anything, just like her!�
�I�m going to bed,� Linda said weakly, dragging herself to her feet, clutching her side.
�Eh, whose stoppin� ya,� her father growled, taking a swig of beer and going to the kitchen.
Linda managed to make it to her room and collapse onto her bed. The pain in her side had become a numb ache and she felt very lightheaded. Her vision swam and she shut her eyes as the beginnings of a headache hit her. She fell into a fitful sleep that night, thinking that she would need to get that injury checked out when she got back to school.
Somebody cries in the middle of the night
The neighbors hear, but they turn out the lights
A fragile soul caught in the hands of fate
When morning comes it'll be too late
Linda stood in the middle of a road, the rain beating down on her and blowing in her face. She had dreamed this many times before. She felt herself being lifted up, even as the rain tried to beat her back down.
She flew up into the sky, finally stopping to stand on a cloud far above the ground. White mist swirled around her, lifting her hair up off her shoulders briefly. Then, a shadow moved in the mist, coming ever closer.
The mist lifted and a woman stood before her, a woman she recognized from a life long since lost. She had finally found her mother. Little did she know, it was not a dream this time.
Through the wind and the rain
She stands hard as a stone
In a world that she can't rise above
But her dreams give her wings
And she flies to a place where she's loved
Concrete angel
The next morning, Linda was found dead in her room. It was found that she had died of internal bleeding, her ribs having been broken and the bones puncturing several vital organs. Everyone knew her father had killed her, but there wasn�t enough evidence to convict him, so he was never charged.
Meanwhile, Linda�s father put up the perfect mask of a distressed parent. He paid for a statue of concrete to be built over her grave, an angel, with her arms and wings spread and her face turned toward the sky. But this could never make up for what he did.
A statue stands in a shaded place
An angel girl with an upturned face
A name is written on a polished rock
A broken heart that the world forgot
Years later, a young boy named Harry Potter walked through the graveyard, looking for his parents� graves. The grave of a girl caught his eye. The nameplate read:
Linda Natum
1957-1973
May she never be forgotten.
Standing over the grave was a statue of an angel, its wings and arms spread and it�s face turned toward the sky. It seemed that much time had passed since anyone had come by, as weeds had grown wild, sprouting up through cracks in the base of the concrete.
�I knew that girl,� a man a few graves down said, looking over. �I went to Hogwarts with her. She was only sixteen when she died. Most people think her father did it, but they couldn�t prove it. Poor little thing, no one really paid much attention to her at Hogwarts. It�s a damn shame she had to pass on so early in life.�
Harry looked back at the angel. He felt bad for the girl. She had been the same age as he was now. He felt himself wishing he could�ve been in Hogwarts at the same time as her. He would�ve spoken to her, maybe even have helped her. Even though he didn�t know the girl, he still felt sad that she was gone.
As though in answer to his thoughts, Harry saw something shining in the eyes of the angel. Upon closer inspection, he saw tears running down the cheeks of the angel.
* * *
Linda hovered above her grave, watching the boy who knelt before her grave. She heard his thoughts and a fresh wave of tears poured down her face. This boy cared about her. He�d never met her, yet he still cared about her. She felt sad that she hadn�t lived to meet this boy. She wondered who he might be.
A hand touched Linda�s shoulder and she turned to see her mother�s concerned face.
�Why�re you crying?� her mother asked.
Linda hesitated for a moment, looking back at the boy who stood by her grave.
�Oh honey,� her mother said, hugging her, �I know this is hard for you. But don�t worry. Remember, you�ll get to meet him eventually.�
Linda gave a weak smile. �You�re right,� she said and they drifted back up into the clouds. Back on the ground, Harry left the grave of the girl and went on to his parents� graves.
And so, as the years go by�
Through the wind and the rain
She stands hard as a stone
In a world that she can't rise above
But her dreams give her wings
And she flies to a place where she's loved
Concrete angel
�her memory is kept alive in the heart of a boy who was born after her time. Every year he went back to the graveyard to visit the mystery girl who had invaded his thoughts. And even after he was gone, another person would come by, similarly captivated by the memory of Linda Natum. As the years past, the nameplate was worn and after some time the girl was known only by what could be seen at her grave. A figure, standing tall, forever gazing into the heavens with unblinking eyes. The Concrete Angel.
(Sung by: Martina McBride)
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Author's note: I love this song and I had a picture in my mind of what it might mean, so I just wrote it down. The message that is sent out by this song and by the story that I wrote to go with it is that ignoring child abuse won't make it go away. In this story, help came too late for Linda. Not to sound like I'm preaching, but if you know someone who is being abused, talk to them, try to get them to go to the police. Tell them no one deserves to be treated like that.
I only have one special note and that is that I am not trying to insult anyone's religion. The place that Linda goes to is heaven, but I only wrote that in because I needed it for the story. That said, please review.
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