Status: writing.
Rebel.
home sweet home?
The fair skinned lady taps her pen off her chin and glares at me, as my parents sign the papers with shaking hands.
How could they do this to me?
I'd never done anything horribly wrong.
A few break ins, crazy parties. Fights.
Getting caught at the wrong moment, wrong time.
It could have happened to anyone.
But as usual, it had to happen to me.
"All finished?" The lady asks, looking at mom and dad.
Mom and Dad.
Do I call them that anymore?
Tomorrow I won't have to.
Because I'll be at a foster home.
And not the one for imaginary friends.
I'll be at the one for 'bad kids'.
Druggies, trouble-makers, alcoholics.
All under the age of 18.
Wow. Pretty harsh huh?
Worst part is, I have 2 years there. That's right. I'm 16. Once I'm eighteen, I can be released and live on my own. Thank god.
But those 2 years are still there. And I'll just have to wait.
"Yes," Mom says, glancing at my Dad.
"Okay then, say your last goodbyes, then we'll transport her to the new home." the lady gets up from her black chair, and walks out of the room, her heels clicking along the tile floor.
"Well?" Dad grunts.
"I'll miss you, honey.." Mom starts. But I know that's not true. She's the one putting me up for adoption. It's not even fair. "It's for the best."
"Yup.." I say slowly, then Mom envelops me into a hug. Dad just stands around, nervous.
The same heels make the noises again, and the lady's back.
"All ready to go, Sarah?" she asks, taking me by the arm.
"Yeah, sure.." I say, grabbing the handle of my purple suitcase.
As we leave the room and walk down the long hallway, I feel my parent's gaze on my back. I turn my head back around, looking at them both. Dad's arm is around Mom, and tears are falling down her cheeks. Her brown hair is pinned back, and her square face seems tired.
I give a little wave, then make my way outside with the lady. It's raining, so I guess the droplets disguise the tears running down my face.
"Sarah Nicole Livington, sixteen years of age, mother Linda, father John." The lady,- whom I've found out is named Alice - tells another woman at a computer.
The woman taps at the keys, then passes Alice a manilla envelope. Alice turns toward me.
"This is basically an info guide. Your room keys, emergency info, meal times, and a few papers you'll need to fill out."
What is this, a hotel?
I reply quickly, "Okay,"
"I'll come to your room to check on you later. Do you need anything?" Alice's voice becomes softer, comforting.
"Sure," I reply nervously. Do they share rooms in this place? Who do I share a room with?
"Take the stairs up this way," Alice directs, pointing toward a set of blue carpeted stairs. The colour palette of this place is blue, white, black. It reminds me of a hospital or hotel. Not a home. Not my home.
How could they do this to me?
I'd never done anything horribly wrong.
A few break ins, crazy parties. Fights.
Getting caught at the wrong moment, wrong time.
It could have happened to anyone.
But as usual, it had to happen to me.
"All finished?" The lady asks, looking at mom and dad.
Mom and Dad.
Do I call them that anymore?
Tomorrow I won't have to.
Because I'll be at a foster home.
And not the one for imaginary friends.
I'll be at the one for 'bad kids'.
Druggies, trouble-makers, alcoholics.
All under the age of 18.
Wow. Pretty harsh huh?
Worst part is, I have 2 years there. That's right. I'm 16. Once I'm eighteen, I can be released and live on my own. Thank god.
But those 2 years are still there. And I'll just have to wait.
"Yes," Mom says, glancing at my Dad.
"Okay then, say your last goodbyes, then we'll transport her to the new home." the lady gets up from her black chair, and walks out of the room, her heels clicking along the tile floor.
"Well?" Dad grunts.
"I'll miss you, honey.." Mom starts. But I know that's not true. She's the one putting me up for adoption. It's not even fair. "It's for the best."
"Yup.." I say slowly, then Mom envelops me into a hug. Dad just stands around, nervous.
The same heels make the noises again, and the lady's back.
"All ready to go, Sarah?" she asks, taking me by the arm.
"Yeah, sure.." I say, grabbing the handle of my purple suitcase.
As we leave the room and walk down the long hallway, I feel my parent's gaze on my back. I turn my head back around, looking at them both. Dad's arm is around Mom, and tears are falling down her cheeks. Her brown hair is pinned back, and her square face seems tired.
I give a little wave, then make my way outside with the lady. It's raining, so I guess the droplets disguise the tears running down my face.
"Sarah Nicole Livington, sixteen years of age, mother Linda, father John." The lady,- whom I've found out is named Alice - tells another woman at a computer.
The woman taps at the keys, then passes Alice a manilla envelope. Alice turns toward me.
"This is basically an info guide. Your room keys, emergency info, meal times, and a few papers you'll need to fill out."
What is this, a hotel?
I reply quickly, "Okay,"
"I'll come to your room to check on you later. Do you need anything?" Alice's voice becomes softer, comforting.
"Sure," I reply nervously. Do they share rooms in this place? Who do I share a room with?
"Take the stairs up this way," Alice directs, pointing toward a set of blue carpeted stairs. The colour palette of this place is blue, white, black. It reminds me of a hospital or hotel. Not a home. Not my home.
♠ ♠ ♠
yaay, chapter 2. should i continue this, i have a few ideas. i know it's boring now, but it'll get better soon. this is just setting the surroundings of the story.