Disclaimer- This chapter alludes to mental illness, self-harm, and suicide. Please do not read if these are sensitive topics for you and/or cause discomfort to you. Seek help if you are struggling with any of these issues. National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255

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"Come here, sweetie."

Artie inched closer to her mother.

"Your hair is all tangled. It'll only get worse if I don't fix it."

Her mother's walnut hair was in a thick messy bun on top of her head, her aquamarine eyes seemed to glow in the dark with the half moon shining through the window. She sat on the floor  in her loose magenta nightgown. Her drawings scattered.

Seven-year old Artie tugged on her snowy hair as she tip-toed between the sheets of paper. Charcoal and oil pastels were smeared on the off-white paper. Some of the designs were abstract while others resembled figures Artie felt she's seen before. Her mother made a nest with her legs, and Artie slowly lowered herself onto her lap. Her elegant fingers deftly combed through Artie's hair, carefully and gently picking at the knots.

Artie scanned through the drawings and felt her heart sink with fear. From this angle, the black smears seemed to have mouths and the pastels looked like life but frozen in flat wax. 

"What do you see?" Her voice whispered in her ear, leaving goosebumps on her skin. She fought not to shiver.

"I don't know," young Artie said meekly.

"Do you see angels or demons, my love?"

Artie didn't know how her mother can see anything but demons in the chaotic designs. Even the occasional splashes of color seemed ominous somehow. As though they were going to be swallowed up by the darkness.  

"Demons."

She felt her mother nod against the back of her head as her arms wrapped around her. Artie felt the puckered ridges that lined her mother's forearms as they grazed her flawless skin. Her unease began to melt away as she felt her mother's warmth and heartbeat against her back. 

She's okay.

Artie felt her body shift towards the window as her mother turned. 

"There's something you need to remember, my dove. We are creatures of both light and dark, just like the moon. We can never be all light or all darkness. At least, not all the time. It waxes and wanes. There is no shame in that. We need to embrace it." 

Artie felt her mother's hands still for a moment before continuing to work through the tangles. 

"But," Artie's small voice quivered. "I want to be good." 

A kiss nudged the side of her head. 

"Darkness is not always bad. It gives us a different kind of strength and it can soothe in ways that light cannot. Do you remember who you were named after?"

"The goddess of the moon," Artie recited.

"And do you know what she was known for?"

Artie shook her head.

"She was a guardian and a huntress. She knew how to protect but also how to kill. She had the strength to save those she cared about but also the strength to destroy the ones who wish them harm. She was equally powerful as she was beautiful. A pure flower with poisonous thorns."

Artie listened with rapture. She never heard this story before.

"That is my wish for you," her mother continued, and Artie can hear a smile in her voice. "I wish for you to embrace all that you are, darkness and all. Only then can you truly be at your most powerful."

Artie balled up her small fists, envisioning herself in glowing silver and blue armor with the crescent moon as her bow. 

"There. All done now." 

Artie's hair swept over her shoulder. It was free of tangles but it was covered with charcoal and different colored pastels. Artie didn't realize it but her mother's hands were stained.

"What do you see now?" She pointed to the drawings, her voice still behind Artie's ear.

"I see...you."

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5 years later

"Poor dear, having to witness something like that."

"She's still young. She might forget it with time."

"How can you say that? A child who has never met her mother can still mourn for her. For this girl to lose her mother in that way...I can't imagine."

Twelve-year Artie sat, listening to the man and woman talk through the door while counting the officers walking past her. When there was no one to watch, she would watch the flame flickering in the lantern across from her. She felt frozen, numb and cold. She kept imagining warming herself by that small flame.

A rustle of paper caught her attention. 

"Does she have any other family?" The man murmured as more papers were moved around.

"None on file," the woman sighed. "She said she never met her father. It's just been her and her mother."

Silence.

"So she's to go to the orphanage?"

"Are you mad?" hissed the woman. "She wouldn't last in there. The girl looks like a ghost! They'll torture the poor child, call her a freak! No. There has to be other options."

"Like what, Clarice?"  

Artie leaned closer to the door, waiting for the answer that will determine her fate.

"I can take her," Clarice said softly.

The man scoffed. "Look who's mad now."

"Keep your voice down, Robert," she scolded. Artie could almost feel her eyes looking at her through the wall. A tapping of a heel punctuated the stillness. 

"You know how long Edward and I have been trying..."

Robert cleared his throat.

"And let me guess, you want to adopt her? Jesus, you've only met her a few hours ago! I know you have a big heart, Clarice, but you're thinking of taking an unknown child into your home. Do you think Edward would approve of her? After what she's been through?"

"And how different would that be if I were to choose a child from the orphanage?" 

The man sighed, and Artie can imagine him rubbing his balding head.

"Just...sleep on it, okay? Talk to your husband about it. She's not going anywhere soon."

Clarice sighed. "I don't think it's coincidence that she arrived the night before my last day here."

A chair creaked. "It's late. Take that girl to a cot. We'll talk more in the morning."

The door opened, and Artie instantly closed her eyes and relaxed her body. Then, she was weightless. She bobbed with every step. Between her eyelashes, she saw the woman's face. She was beautiful. Her blond hair reminded Artie of honey in the summer sun, and her eyes were chocolate. The springs of the cot squeaked under her in the small gray room. A hand smoothed her hair away from her face.

"You'll be okay, angel," Charice whispered before the door closed with a thud.

Angel? Artie has never been called that before.

She awoke to her clothes sticking to her, cold with sweat. She grasped at the dream. She saw her mother, but all she can remember were flashes. Rope. Feet. Blood. Screaming.

Clarice's face filled her vision, an unfamiliar man in a suit behind her. She pushed Artie's wet strands of hair away from her face. 

"It was a nightmare. You're safe." Clarice turned to the man. "Edward, this is Artemis."

The man's wary expression shifted to that of shock at seeing Artemis' hair and the terrified roundness of her eyes.

Artie's breathing slowed as she sat up, gazing at the man. He was handsome with his coffee colored hair and stormy gray eyes.

"Clarice, a word?" His baritone voice murmured. Clarice smiled at Artie before stepping out of the room, keeping the door ajar.

"What am I doing here? You can't be serious." Edward said calmly.

"My love, I can't bear to see her hauled away to that hellhole! She doesn't belong there! It's not too late for her to live a normal life!"

Silence. 

Artie leaned so she can peek through the crack. Clarice had her hands placed tenderly on her husband's chest before reflexively straightening his tie. Artie felt warmth spread through her fingers and toes. In response, he wrapped his arms around her waist, placing his lips on her forehead, deep in thought. 

"This can't be a coincidence," Clarice whispered. "She arrived just when we were about to give up."

Edward closed his eyes tightly, and Artie almost felt his grief. He took a step back, cupping his wife's face as tears shone on her young rosy cheeks while shaking his head slightly.   

A different voice spoke.

"Please."

Artie found herself in the doorway, holding it for support. She hasn't heard her voice in so long. It was high and weak. She didn't know what to say next but all she knew was that this warmth spreading through her as she watched them was as important as air.

Edward looked at her in surprise before to turning his wife who was now holding his hands to her face, silently pleading with him. 

"Alright," he said before a laugh escaped him. Smiling, he gazed into his wife's eyes and shrugged in happy defeat. 

"How could I possibly say no?"

Clarice lunged at him, sealing his lips with hers. He chuckled against her lips, pushing her gently away with an embarrassed flush on his face. Artie felt herself smiling, a foreign sensation. 

"Come, Artie," Clarice beamed, offering her hand. Artie blinked at the nickname.

"Let's go home."

When the couple and their daughter finally left the police station, the sun was high in the sky. Artie, still grasping Clarice's and Edward's hand, slowed to close her tired eyes and raise her head to the light. 

A/N: I was genuinely surprised that Artie became a character that some of you wanted to know more about! Originally, she was just a character from Thomas' past. I'm planning on writing more about her time with Thomas before her death so stay tuned for that! I hope you've enjoyed this chapter and leave a comment/vote if you did!