Peter Pan & Wendy Turned Out Fine

I couldn't remember how long I had walked for; all I knew was that I was worn out. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a car. I was on an abandoned street; there shouldn't be any of those here. The word orphanage stood out to me on the side of the van.

I started freaking out. I had only ran away I couldn't be put into an orphanage, could I?

Reality check, you can.

An hour later I was inside the orphanage and inside of my room getting acquainted to my new roomy, Alyson Starr.

From the beginning she was awesome, and I could totally tell she would be a best friend for me. She is 17 though, a year older than me. She has an amazing fashion sense, not too drastic but not too laid back either. She has brown hair with either natural highlights or an amazing hair stylist and she wouldn’t tell me. She wasn't nervous or shy meeting me, and she seems sarcastic but mature for her age. She likes to read and she listens to alternative and pop like me. She gave me this warm feeling. I felt like I could trust her, and I knew she would help me somehow. She wanted to help me get out of here.

I went upstairs after doing what I had to. I knocked on the door and heard a faint come in.

“Hey. Do these beds get any comfier?” Alyson looked at me and rolled her eyes.

“No. But after a while your back stops hurting and you can act like a normal person again.”

“Oh how settling.” I rolled my eyes and got my stuff out for sleep.

“Bed. Bed. Bed bed bed bed.”

“Something wrong Alyson?”

“Nope. It’s all cool. You might want to go to sleep though. You’ll have a tough time. It’s always the hardest the first night.” I gave her a sympathetic smile and walked to the bathroom.

I stepped into the shower and washed away my day. The generic shampoo made me miss my herbal essences.

I got out of the shower and grabbed my plain pink pajamas. They only had a few pajamas on hand. I’d get to buy some tomorrow.

My first night was okay. I was worn out and wanted to sleep, but, like Alyson said, the bed wasn't as comfortable as the one at my house.

I woke up like 4 times during the night and every time I would wake up thinking I was at home, and then freak out thinking I was abducted or something. Or I would think that the whole thing was just a dream and would wake up and freak until I realized that everything had all happened. I woke up hysterical and Alyson had to help calm me down. She got me laughing when she told me a story about a leprechaun.

About a week later, I was starting to get used to it. I was still glued to the papers hoping that I would see a missing child announcement for me, I looked through every paper and every add. There wasn’t a single one for me. NO messages asking about me, and my parents never showed up. I wanted to see their tear-stained eyes, looking for their daughter that runaway, the one that they loved.

When they said they didn’t care if I left, they meant it. And that stung.

I looked forward to the nighttime. I got to talk to Alyson. She would always comfort me and tell me a little about herself and her situation. It took forever but she finally told me about herself.

“Jen, do you want to hear about me?”

“Of course I do Aly.”

“It’s not a good story.”

“I don’t care. You’re the only family I have right now.” She smiled at me, but it faded as soon as it came.

“It started when I was nine. I came home from school one day, and my dad was drunk. I walked over to him and asked him if he was okay. My mother died in childbirth. So, he was my single father. He looked at me, and with the most pain in his eyes I had ever seen he said that it was my fault. What, I asked him. It’s all your fault that your mother is dead, that I have nobody here to help me raise you. Then he beat me. It wasn’t bad at first. It was a slap here or there, but by the time I turned ten he had broken an arm, and a rib.

“It got worse, and when I turned eleven I called the cops. He pulled a gun on me, I thought I was going to die. It was so scary. They took me to court and they put me in here. I never had a room mate, I never wanted one.”

“Wow. I’m so so-“

“I don’t want your pity. I’m not sorry. It made me a better person.” I smiled at her. How could she be so strong, but so broken. She needed me, as bad as I needed her.

We were talking that night.

“Jen, you’ve lost a lot of weight. Before you got here, were you dizzy and faint. You drank like a billion bottles of water today. I’m worried about you.”

“I have been dizzy and yes I did drink water. And I haven’t been losing weight.”

“You’ve been moody.”

“PMS.”

“I’m sure.” I got a horrible throbbing in my head. We were standing and leaning against the wall. I tried to walk to my bed. I was tired of this conversation. My steps faultered.

“Are you okay Jen?”

“Yes.” I snapped at her.

I tripped and landed on the floor. My eyes rolled back into my head.

“JENAA JENAA! Jen?!?!? Are you okay?!?!” But I couldn’t hear her over the pounding in my head. Cotton was in my ears, and everything was blurring. My head was killing me.

Oh snap.