Trust Me

Home Is Where the Heart Is

♥♥♥♥♥ Hi guys! So I posted the first chapter of this as a sort of teaser, and I don't post my stories until I have completed them in Microsoft word, at least. However, Trust Me is going to be finished soon, and I got a good reaction to the first chapter, so here's the second. If I get lots of feed back, I'll probably update again soon. So anyways, ENJOY!!! ♥♥♥♥♥

I sat up the next morning when my cell door swung open. My head still pulsed with a sharp pain every now and then, and I hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. I never slept very well anyways. When you've been attacked by gangs, hungry hobos, or whatever else,  too many times to count while asleep,  you don't tend to fall easily into the arms of Morpheus. 

The pit bull shaped lady guard from the day before came in, her eyes widening in surprise when she saw my face. 

"You look like you got hit with a steam roller." She said kindly. I narrowed my eyes, or rather my eye, as the other one was swollen shut, at her, and she handed me a tray and my empty back pack. 

"Am I leaving?" I asked, digging into the weird oatmeal stuff she had brought. She nodded. 

"Mrs. Carbonnet is picking you up in half an hour, so eat up, then I'll take you to get your belongings." She said. I didn't like the idea of them pawing through my stuff, and frowned as she closed the door behind her.  

******** 

"What happened to you?" Maria Carbonnet gasped when she saw me. I didn't look at her, but just finished shoving things into my beat up black back pack.  Say that five times fast.

"She got in a fight in the cafeteria." Peregrine muttered. 

"Shut up, bird brain." I snapped, in a foul mood. "sorry..."I muttered, zipping my bag shut and slinging it over my shoulder. I was feeling a little more like myself now that I was back in my own clothes; a swamp green cargo jacket over a black tank top, jeans, and black combat boots. I piled my hair on top of my head as the guards and Maria began working things out. I couldn't hear that they were saying, but every now and then one would nod. Eventually they all went their own ways, Peregrine sending me a quick nod, and Maria smiled at me. 

"Ready to go home?" she asked happily, putting her hands together. I followed her out of the prison, eager to be out in the open.  

"I'm ready to go." I clarified, unwilling to say "home." I didn't have a home. Home was where ever Jake was, and he was six feet under. All though sometimes it seemed like the only choice, I never considered suicide. I was a survivor, and had lost too many people already.  

I was surprised to see the schmancy yellow car that Maria was walking towards. It was one of those really sleek sports cars, the ones with the racing stripes down the side and look they were carved out of the wind. It chirped lightly when she unlocked it, and she beamed at me as I walked around to the other side. 

It was hot out, late in June, and the heat rolled off of the road in hazy waves. I wished I had put on shorts, but I breathed in the open air. Living in a city, I wouldn't exactly call it "fresh," but it was better than the dry, stale air in the prison.  

The smell of freshly laid pavement burning in the hot sun made me crinkle my nose, but once we were out on the road and the wind was whipping the baby hairs around my face and neck, the smell melted away, and I momentarily closed my eyes and soaked up some of the hot sun. 

"So, Quinn, tell me about yourself." Maria said suddenly, pulling my reverie. I glanced over at her and tried to hold back on being a bitch. She was trying to be nice, and I was not making it easy. 

"Um, not much to tell." I said, nodding once and hoping she would drop it so I could sit in silence for a moment. she glanced over at me. 

"How old are you?" she asked, trying to keep the conversation going. I was sure that she must have known from all the paperwork, but it would be rude of me to point that out, despite the strong urge I felt. I reminded myself that she was helping me.