The confidence she reserved for this moment was uncanny. No child should ever be this unaware, she was all of like 10 and alone in a stranger’s place. Her words didn’t sound untrue though. This wasn’t a gimmick, there weren’t any traps, and no gang was waiting to break my kneecaps. What she spoke was the truth, at least to her it was. She would be living here, and I would be her new caretaker. Something dark pressed in the back of my mind, but it wouldn’t come through to the forefront. Apart from I still couldn’t shake this whole situation without knowing the full story. I remember at the park asking for her parents, so where were they? My head hurt trying to remember. Also, how did such a little girl get me all the way here? It wasn’t like I was heavy, but for brats like her, I was two times her weight and muscle. I turned all this over in my mind and went dizzy trying to force it.

Something with her wording and confidence made me a believer that I was now in charge of this little scammer monster.

Why though, why did I believe this little brat? I was a reasonable, rational man. I had some pride. I lived here, she didn’t, so I would ask, and let no child run over me.

“What does… that mean” I stuttered out, trying not to come off as confident.

She had left my side, while I was trying to find my confidence to tell the little girl off.

“What should we have tonight? Macaroni or chip sandwiches?”

She was completely engrossed in the grocery bags, placed all around. I watched as she pranced around from bag to bag, wondering what her choices for food were tonight.

Those choices were terrible by the way, just Macaroni? And from the looks of it, she only bought the spicy kind of chips, and I didn’t do so well with heat.

My body was burning up, and I was nervous and sweaty, part of it was that there was a strange little girl who wouldn’t leave, and the other part was her aurora, which exuded animosity.

I didn’t answer her unwanted food choices, not because they sounded gross, but because there was an even more important question.

“What even is your name?”

I said, coming into the kitchen area with her, and making my way through the mess of bags everywhere.

As if in response to my question, she popped her skateboard near her feet into her hands.

“ahh…” I tried saying in protest to the scraping of my laminate floors.

But was railroaded by her triumphant pose and speech.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“Hohoho you want my name?”

She placed her hand in front of her mouth, snickering.

“Well, I guess since you are my new caretaker, it is an honor for you to know the name of your future queen.”

She was standing near the stove in her triumphant pose snickering manically to the ceiling, when she dramatically did a 180 spin, her nose to the air and her hands to her hips, as she announced herself.

“I am the Demoness of the underworld, heretic over the seven realms of hell and the damned, leader of the righteous over earth’s molten core, The cold and hot, but not warm ruler of all. I am the Future Queen of hell, Beatrice, Lucilla, Emilia, Magnolia, Crimnsonia, SECOND OF HER NAME, FIRST FOR HER GRACE, BEAUTY, AND DECADENCE.

She breathed in a huge breath, still striking her pose.

I looked on at the little psycho, and thought, man somebody must have done a number on her because she was a bit chunni.

What was I scared of, she was just a troubled little girl, whose parents are looking for her right now. I should keep her safe…but the wait would a troubled child go through this much trouble? To run away from home, then axe kick a random man, knock him out and steal his credit card, then highjack your way into his place and buy way too much junk food for yourself? That wasn’t normal for a troubled child, Was it?

Maybe she had a terrible mental illness, that I wasn’t aware of, I thought panicked. Maybe just maybe I should play nice, you never know what others are going through; yes, she beat me up and stole from me… I paused thinking of hand embarrassment from getting knocked out by a child. Then I looked at her arms, yeah those were kind of beefy, so I jumped to the conclusion that she was just a strong child, with no embarrassment, just pity.

She noticed me staring and stepped onto my foot, alerting me, that I was on strike one. Yeah, she was incredibly strong.

“so how old are you, Bea?”

I asked wanting to comfort her, I didn’t wanna say that fucking mouthful of a name, so I settled on Bea, short for Beatrice. A lovely name I thought.

Her posture dropped from triumphant to demeaning. Her tiny hand gripped the skateboard tightly by the truck, barrens spinning from the change in grip.

I noticed the change and started to sweat; my instincts told me to duck. I almost didn’t listen, but I leaned back just in time and fell to the ground. When I did, I looked up and saw the light-up wheels swing past where my face was.

I winced in pain, hitting the ground. My head felt like it was going to split right down the middle. The throbbing had not gone away from earlier, and the more damage I took tonight, the more I didn’t know I could take.

“What is that Satan-forsaken name you’ve spit at me?”

She was furious.

She held the skateboard out like a weapon, pointing it to my neck, acknowledging that it was strike two, one more and I was out.

I could hear the sweat from my forehead drop to the ground beside me, as she turned her back.

“It's nick…name” I stammered out, in short breaths.

She turned back immediately, glaring daggers down at me, but they didn’t look pissed, more intrigued.

“Nick? Name? my memory forgets itself, please inform me of the meaning.”

She was now crouching in front of me completely, her helmet, and gear, and at her feet was that weapon of mass destruction.

“It's a shortening of a name with an even more graceful interpretation to it.”

I lied, not wanting to tell her that her name was far too fucking long to say all the time.

“Oh, I see, I see, I remember now, that was it, such a graceful title bestowed on yours truly, you truly are the epitome of a caretaker.”

Bea stuck out her modest chest with pride. I would never tell her I just duped her, or I was sure to die a horrible death.