Pure-Blood? I'm B Positive

The sun, although not particularly bright, seemed to blind me and no matter where I sat in the class it seemed to follow. The birds were chirping, I could hear younger year girls giggling and gossiping on the field outside during what seemed to be a very unorganised P.E lesson. I sighed, you'll come to find I do that quite a bit. Sat in class, not particularly enjoying myself, definitely not paying attention - not very unique here but there we go. Mathematics, this never was really my strong point, lately nothing seemed to be. There I go, drifting off into the world of cliches and pessimism. Just so you know, as it might be of interest to you I'm Araina Reddil (Odd I know) or you can call me 'Care Home Kid' everybody else seems to.

Class ended, I only noticed because of the ear piercing bell that rang at the end of each period. Finally the end of the day, not that going back to Ryton Dene was any better. Ryton Dene was the care home I was in, luckily I haven't been moved around a lot and placed here there and everywhere like most of the kids here but that didn't mean it made the place home, weirdly, well I guess it's not that weird since i'm a teenage girl but nowhere felt... right. No matter who I was with or where I was I always felt like I was a square trying to fit into a circle. I always seemed to stick out like a soar thumb, sometimes it was for good things, sometimes it was for bad, I was always top of the class in Chemistry, and History was pleasing - but I think that was more due to the fact I like to argue more than knowledge. Other areas of my life weren't so praised, not in this world anyway. I wasn't different because of the music I liked, the colour of my skin, or the people I befriended, skin deep, I was the same as everybody else. Generic Blue eyes hiding behind black frames, Generic brunette hair, Generic short stature and small feet to go with that. However, my memories - if you can call them memories, were a bit more exceptional. Anyway, I can tell you more about that later on, right now we're focusing on the middle part of my life, the only part that seems real.

So, Ryton Dene. My room was pretty small, considering I was one of the few people who didn't share due to my "unsociable qualities" and attitude problems; I can't help it if almost every member of staff here is lacking a brain and a sense of humour. My walls were pretty dull, I had a few tickets to places and books dotted about, but other than that it was just a room where I slept and studied, and cried - yea, I did a lot of that too. They weren't sad tears, they were scared tears, angry tears, and sometimes tears of pain, but mostly I was terrified. Terrified of what, I had no idea. This fear thing, interlinks with the whole 'memories' thing I talked about earlier - I swear it will make sense, bear with me! My life was definitely not a roller-coaster of adventure and fun memories before I left Ryton Dene, and I guess you could say there weren't a lot of fun memories after either. My life started in 1994, I was told I was moved to Ryton Dene when I was 6, and before that it's just darkness, apart from an odd item I had on my persons when I came here, that item was a necklace, one of an odd symbol i was unaware of yet recognised, it was a triangle, with a circle inside it and a line vertically crossing through it.
The sad thing is, every time I asked about my past before Ryton Dene, the social workers knew as much as I did. I was found inside Kings Cross Station on platform 10 wandering around, a tad confused. I got brought here after nobody claimed me, and that was that. Nobody knows anything about me, other than what was written (weirdly in ink) on a bit of old paper. The paper just said my name, age and 'please look after her' on it. Whoever left me, it was intentional. The police, and social workers think it may have been a teenage mum, or somebody who simply couldn't cope with a child, however I always knew this wasn't the case. The only memories I have of my past don't seem to make sense, it's all moving portraits on walls and a world that seemed dream like. The one memory I had that made sense was one that made me aware that my parents didn't want to give me away, there was a young man, with black greasy hair, talking to them - my parents - about safety and not wanting the past to repeat itself, I was waiting outside the room and couldn't hear most of the conversation but another man was there, much older than the other man - he wore half moon spectacles and for some reason I was in awe at this man.. Then I was taken away, I'm assuming to Kings Cross Station. Other memories weren't like memories at all, almost like nightmares, people running, dying, fighting but not with weapons, with... I guess lightning, It looked like lightning, from their hands. I know it sounds bizarre, how do you think I felt 'remembering' this? Which is exactly why I was scared, and tired of not knowing, the uncertainty of my identity was always on my mind, more and more as I approached adult hood. Now you know my past, it's time to go to the present.

Here I am, living my life like it's nothing but a routine with school, 'home' school 'home, weekend spent pondering why there seemed to be a lot of owls in the small woods at the back of the field on which Ryton Dene is situated. When me, or all people, get's a handsome, but strange, gentleman caller.