Six

Chapter One

Cold air snakes around my ankles, the breeze sending goosebumps up my arms. I finally force the window shut with shaky hands, warm air now surrounding me.

As I take my seat again, I find myself staring out the window at something particular. Something I don't have anymore. A young girl is crossing the street with her mother, the girl's hand tightly intertwined with the woman's.

Sadness races through my veins, everything beginning to hurt inside. God, I miss her. If I could just spend one more day with my mother, I would take that offer with both hands and cherish it forever. But sadly, people don't magically come back from the dead and spend quality time with their loved ones. One can only dream.

A sudden knock at the door breaks my train of thought, the sound nearly giving me a heart attack.

"What?" I snap. Nobody really gets mad at me when I'm rude. That's probably due to the fact that I was adopted, so they want to keep me happy. At least, for the first week of me being here. Hugh and his servants are bound to begin punishing me for my rude behavior soon.

"Dinner's ready!" Rosie, one of the servants, informs me. She has a thick accent when she speaks, but I still can't tell where she came from. It's kind of a game I play, since I have nothing better to do.

All of the servants and maids that work in the mansion are foreign, each with their own unique accent. Trying to figure out where exactly they originate from is difficult, yet highly entertaining.

"Alright, coming!" I yell back. Before exiting the room I now call mine, I snatch my gray hoodie from my dresser, carelessly slipping it over my head as I begin my journey down the winding stairs leading to the kitchen.

Well, one of the many kitchens spread out across the entire mansion. To be completely honest, living in a mansion always sounded like a fantasy to me. A paradise you claim your home.

Actually living in one isn't what I pictured it to be, though. Not at all. Hugh, the man that adopted me, is an extremely wealthy man. His father passed down this house to him before he died, basically handing him something that people work for their entire lives.

Without a large family, the mansion just feels empty and sad. The only people living in it are Hugh, me, and his staff. That's it. It's pretty depressing.

Once I take a seat at the kitchen table, plates and silverware are immediately set in front of me, the hot steam from the food now burning my cheeks. The smell of whatever sits on my plate isn't exactly pleasant either. I nearly gag at the sight of it.

"What are we eating?" I ask cautiously, my nose wrinkling in disgust. Before one of the servants can answer, Hugh slides into the seat across from me, now speaking up for them.

"Pata Negra, Caspian caviar, and Parte de Campagne Forrestier." He informs me, the words basically sounding like a foreign language to me. I just nod as if I understand, slowly taking a bite of one of the foods.

A horrible taste explodes across my tongue, the sensation nearly bringing the food back up. Nobody seems to notice me almost gagging to death across from them, so I just continue, forcing myself to eat the rest.

"How are you enjoying your new room, Jessi?" Hugh suddenly asks me, his eyes not meeting mine.

"It's big," is all I respond with, trying my best to not express my struggle in finishing the food on my plate. Hopefully this isn't how things are forever. Not being adopted for ten years was one thing, but this is much worse.

When I pictured myself being adopted, it was me joining a big happy family. A mother, a father, and siblings close to my age. Of course, that was an unrealistic dream of mine.