`Eros

You know your day is going to be awesome when you wake up to your psychotic step mum yelling “Scarlet make me breakfast now!”, down the hall. She’s my foster mum, but even though she is technically my new mother I refuse to call her anything like that. Usually her name varies on what treacherous task she has subjected me to, but the most frequent one I use is “The Wicked Witch of the West.” It seems to cover her moods, emotions and actions very well. She is also a type of person that anyone could figure out, so most of the time I can find the motives behind a decision, but there is a few that have got me completely baffled and the most weird one is the decision to adopt me. Why does someone who already despises of children go through the long painful process of adopting a child? And why me? There were so many other children at the orphanage some having been there since birth and some a hell of a lot less depressed and traumatized than me.

I have to admit it’s not hard to imagine what goes on behind the mind of Mary, she is an extremely easy person to read, she’s like an open book, but I guess I cheat a bit by being forced to sit there and listen to her pour her life story out to me every time she gets drunk or of her face on god knows what. Her life story also changes deepening on her mood some days she was a mixed up, confused teen with horrifying grades other days she’s a level headed, emotionally sound, straight A student. So after seven years of listening to her night after night, you begin to know a person and can see the reasons behind certain decisions they make. But once again I am still left baffled by the decision that actually affects me.

I’m sure there are a lot of plots and tactics behind the decision to bring me into this horror house, but I have yet to find one that ticks all the boxes. There is one theory that is more plausible than the others, and it is the fact that I came from a very wealthy family and as the families last descendant I became a very wealthy ten year old girl, but there is one flaw with that theory, the money was left to me in my parents will, not any future guardian. But so far that is the only one that has come close to making any sense, why else would someone subject them self to this amount of self-inflicted unhappiness?

But not all the unhappiness she inflicts is to her, she does her fair share of making sure my life has no enjoyment what so ever, with the never ending list of chores and ridicules demands. And speaking of demands, I better get up and make the stupid cow breakfast before she figures out more creative ways to add to my torture.

I can already tell my almost waist length, chocolate brown curls are going to need some serious attention before I go to work. I can feel it sticking out everywhere. I gave up trying to straitening it a long time ago, I sigh and go to check my phone and realize with a groan it’s only six o’clock in the freaking morning and its Saturday. One of the, two days a week when I don’t have to start work until nine-thirty.

I stumble into the bathroom and find my prediction about my hair is true; it looks like some furry animal is living on my head. Mumbling about how nothing in my life is easy, I grab a hair tie and tie my hair up and brush my teeth, but while I’m starring at my reflection I realize there was a lot of crashing noises last night, and a sinking feeling starts in my stomach I know my morning is about to get very interesting or not depending on your view on life.