Disclaimer: I do not own Cherub. Period.

A/N: My first attempt at Cherub, therefore I would appreciate some feedback please.

Golden One


Aurelia Smyth stared at the blank canvas that was her wall, silently counting the number of times the knolling of the bell sounded in the nearby church. Speculating her room was nauseating, as everything had been packed away in a box or some sort of container. It was so tempting for her just to trash her room and vent all this anger and irritation.

But she refrained from doing so.

Mainly because she couldn't accept what had happened. She wouldn't acknowledge the fact that her only brother, who cherished and loved her so dearly, was gone. When the two had been informed of their parent's unfortunate accident, she was devastated; he on the other hand had handled the situation with rationality. He had gotten a steady job and worked hard for his earned money. It had taken a while, but with the cash he saved from years before, he had been able to afford the education that their parents had given Aurelia.

He had graduated from Upper College a year before their parent's death, planning to take a gap year before starting University with the money he had accumulated during his paper rounds. But all his plans had been washed down the drain when the accident happened. He bought a decent-sized apartment, large enough for two people and proceeded to acquire a job in advertising as an assistant. Although he had not gone to University, he had been lucky enough to pass every GCSE with an A and most of his A-Levels with an A or A. It had been quite a feat, and took up hours of the night, studying and concentrating.

Aurelia closed her eyes shut for a minute, her breathing shallow, as she saw flashes of what happened a few days ago flood her memory.

Aaron swept past the unfamiliar faces in this bustling crowd of strangers. His grin widened as he spotted his sister, Aurelia, leaning against the lamppost by the dead-end of Wellington Street, engrossed in a yet another book. He rolled his eyes and stealthily crept up behind her.

"Boo!" he shouted into her ear, as soon as he got near enough. Aurelia jumped at least a foot in the air, dropping her book and clutching her heart.

She glared at him before punching him in the arm. "Aaron! You made me lose my page!"

He chuckled at her antics, rubbing his arm while bending over to retrieve the fallen novel. It was then when a nasal voice was heard.

"What a pretty girl," the boy commented. Jeering laughter was then heard. Aaron immediately stood up to his full height and surveyed the imbecile that was apparently hitting on his sister. The leader's shocked face contorted into a smirk as Aaron stood behind Aurelia protectively and glared at the offending bulky boys. "And who might you be then, her boyfriend?"

Aaron cracked his knuckles and replied menacingly, "I'm her brother."

He wiggled his eyebrows to his mates and bent over laughing. "Well, as a big brother you'll probably be able to defend her against us, right?"

Sceptically watching them for a minute, he warily nodded, also noting that one of the boys had his hand gripped tightly to something behind his back.

"Then this shouldn't hurt you one bit!" The boy whipped out a half-empty beer bottle and smashed it against the railing, causing jagged and sharp glass to fall to the ground, leaving the same imprint on the bottle.

Aaron stepped back, enveloping Aurelia for a moment and pushed her towards the crowded street, mouthing: 'go home' twice before dodging a blow.

She had been so thoughtless and irrational; she didn't stay with him, but instead, ran off to get the police. But when they had arrived the boys had left, leaving Aurelia with the still and lifeless corpse of her brother, drenched in a pool of his own blood.

And to this day, that mistake she made killed her everyday.

To say that the thought burdened her would be a complete understatement. She felt the guilt scratching at her insides, tearing and slashing until she couldn't feel much anymore. This went on day after day, that is, until today when she was supposed to be relocated to a home.

At the age of fifteen it was rather difficult for the social services to put her in a foster home on such a short notice. Aurelia Smyth was of average height, being neither too tall nor short, with bright green eyes that seemed to change according to whatever mood she was in. At this very moment, it was a mixture of a dark green of anguish and a sea-green colour of hope. It was then that a smiling woman, dressed casually, opened the door and addressed her.

Aurelia turned her pale face to the social worker called Isabelle. "What have you done to your hair?" Isabelle commented, taken aback.

She tentatively raised her hand and ran it through her rather short dark chestnut locks that flared out and framed her oval face. "I cut it," she replied, "do you like it?" All Isabelle could do was smile and nod.

"Come on, dear," she managed to sigh out, "The car is downstairs." Aurelia stood up stiffly and eventually lugged her to suitcase out of the door. She took one last look at her home, her security and the everlasting memory of her brother, silently saying goodbye, and headed out the door.