Status: cancelled
Scream to Be Heard, Like You Needed Any More Attention
feeling safe in a dangerous place
"Hello Riley, how are we today?" A cool, artificial voice greets me and I flick my auburn bangs from my eyes before flashing my teeth at the stuffy woman opposite me.
Dr. Spencer shuffles the papers in front of her and clears her throat with a phlegm-y noise. I wince in disgust then resume a mask of indifference.
She scans the papers then begins reading in a monotone voice.
"You have made enormous strides during your time here at Forest Creek Rehabilitation Facility."
I snorted and she paused to raise a furry eyebrow at me before continuing.
"Forest Creek is proud to release you from its care because you have proved yourself worthy yadda yadda blah blah."
I take a moment to absorb what she's just said before half-rising from my seat.
"Wait. So I'm done here? I can leave?"
"Sit down!" She snaps. "Though we're done with you here, the state law requires to be 'supervised' by a responsible adult for one year before you can make your own decisions."
"I don't need supervision! I'm twenty years old, I don't need someone looking after me like I'm three fucking years old!" I am standing up, staring down Dr. Spencer.
"Language, Miss Paulsen! Unfortunately, you have a hefty police record, no high school diploma, and no living relatives. Your chances of getting a job are nil. Unless you would like to live off the streets, I suggest you do what you're told. You do seem to have a problem with that, don't you? Doing what you're told?"
I sit in the hard plastic chair, seething in anger, wanting nothing more but to go over there and rip the lipsticked smirk of her ugly face. Instead, I sit very still and send her rays of hate through my stare. She smiles smugly back then diverts her attention to her beeping phone.
"Miranda Spencer speaking." She nods then turns and smiles a slow smile at me. "Good, good. Okay, I'll send her down right now. Okay. Yes, bye."
She drops her phone into her bag then stands.
"Your new guardian should be here soon, your stuff is packed, I assume?"
I kick the duffel bag by my feet that I was told to pack.
"Alright then, come along." She brushes past and I nearly gag on the overwhelming smell of mothballs. I follow her down the narrow hallway to the dingy check-in area. A big-haired woman reeking of cigarettes leans over the counter and flashes a crooked smile as we come down the corridor.
"Hello Shelby," Dr. Spencer greets and I flash a polite smile before turning to the entrance.
"Uhm, Riley Paulsen?" She flips through the folders then looks at me. I nod then resume door-watching.
"Alrighty, I need you to sign here anndd...here." She points a few lines out and I scribble down my name.
"Thank you, honey, your guardian should be here soo— oh look, here she comes now."
The tinted door swings open and tall, raven-haired girl dressed to kill steps inside, an unsure grin on her face. A grin that fades when she sees me standing there.
"Ember?"
Dr. Spencer shuffles the papers in front of her and clears her throat with a phlegm-y noise. I wince in disgust then resume a mask of indifference.
She scans the papers then begins reading in a monotone voice.
"You have made enormous strides during your time here at Forest Creek Rehabilitation Facility."
I snorted and she paused to raise a furry eyebrow at me before continuing.
"Forest Creek is proud to release you from its care because you have proved yourself worthy yadda yadda blah blah."
I take a moment to absorb what she's just said before half-rising from my seat.
"Wait. So I'm done here? I can leave?"
"Sit down!" She snaps. "Though we're done with you here, the state law requires to be 'supervised' by a responsible adult for one year before you can make your own decisions."
"I don't need supervision! I'm twenty years old, I don't need someone looking after me like I'm three fucking years old!" I am standing up, staring down Dr. Spencer.
"Language, Miss Paulsen! Unfortunately, you have a hefty police record, no high school diploma, and no living relatives. Your chances of getting a job are nil. Unless you would like to live off the streets, I suggest you do what you're told. You do seem to have a problem with that, don't you? Doing what you're told?"
I sit in the hard plastic chair, seething in anger, wanting nothing more but to go over there and rip the lipsticked smirk of her ugly face. Instead, I sit very still and send her rays of hate through my stare. She smiles smugly back then diverts her attention to her beeping phone.
"Miranda Spencer speaking." She nods then turns and smiles a slow smile at me. "Good, good. Okay, I'll send her down right now. Okay. Yes, bye."
She drops her phone into her bag then stands.
"Your new guardian should be here soon, your stuff is packed, I assume?"
I kick the duffel bag by my feet that I was told to pack.
"Alright then, come along." She brushes past and I nearly gag on the overwhelming smell of mothballs. I follow her down the narrow hallway to the dingy check-in area. A big-haired woman reeking of cigarettes leans over the counter and flashes a crooked smile as we come down the corridor.
"Hello Shelby," Dr. Spencer greets and I flash a polite smile before turning to the entrance.
"Uhm, Riley Paulsen?" She flips through the folders then looks at me. I nod then resume door-watching.
"Alrighty, I need you to sign here anndd...here." She points a few lines out and I scribble down my name.
"Thank you, honey, your guardian should be here soo— oh look, here she comes now."
The tinted door swings open and tall, raven-haired girl dressed to kill steps inside, an unsure grin on her face. A grin that fades when she sees me standing there.
"Ember?"
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