I'm Being Adopted by... One Direction?

I'm Being Adopted by a Boyband? *Chapter One*

A/N: So this is my second story, One Direction doesn't come in until the second or third chapter, I need to explain Grace's past and its complicated so it will take a long time! So here we go!

THIS IS NOT A COPY OF DIP DYED, COMPLETELY DIFFERENT STORIES? DON'T BELIEVE ME? 

Dip Dye (first chapter) posted on: December 09, 2012.

THIS STORY POSTED ON: AUGUST 20, 2012.

THIS WAS ALSO ONE OF THE FIRST ABUSE VICTIM ADOPTION STORY.

ALSO I OWN NONE OF THE SONGS USED, ALL CREDITS GO TO THE ORIGNIAL OWNERS. 

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*edited*

 My blue green eyes wandered aimlessly around the blank grey room, I shifted my gaze over to the empty bed across from me. She left; she got adopted after two weeks of being here. Yet I was here since I was eight, now I was thirteen. I pulled my dull brown hair out of the pony tail, I haven't been happy in a long time. I was sitting on my grey mattress, criss cross apple sauce. I was wearing a plain grey T-shirt and ripped blue jeans.

"Grace Dinner is ready!" I heard Brooke's voice call up; she was one of the older orphans here so she was basically like a mom to us. She was more of a sister to me though, because I technically had a mum but she didn't want me.

"Coming," I called back in a mono-tone voice, breaking me from my thoughts, I always told Brooke that if I was spaced out to do anything to break me from it. Mostly it’s because I'm having flashbacks or my thoughts are abusing me, yeah it’s possible for your thoughts to abuse you. I walked out of my room which I spent most of my time in really. I walked down the corridor, a young couple just left I could tell because mostly everybody was crying, and weeping. I don't blame them, that’s why I never come down for those sorts of things.

All the times I did when I was younger and I got taken home I was abused. Emotionally, physically... sexually. Then the cops would come and I got taken back here, Brooke knew of this so if someone wanted to see me they would have to get a background check, and be checked for drugs. For those reasons I haven't had a visitor since I was 11. I was at the top of the broken stairs, they mirrored my feelings. Broken beyond repair, cold, and dark. I walked down carefully so I didn't fall into the open holes. They could swallow your leg and when you pulled it out, you would cut yourself. I learned that from experience, my long hair flowed down to the end beginning of my ribcage; it was curly and had tints of blond. 

"Hi Brooke." I said to be polite and warn her of my presence; I've walked in on kids at the orphanage talking about me many, many times before. All saying the same things, 

"Grace is so weird; she spends all day in her room!"

"I wonder why Grace always comes back after being adopted; it’s probably because no one can love her." 

Brooke snapped me out of my thoughts by pinching my arm.

"Ow...” I said rubbing where she pinched me, she just shook her head and handed me a piece of bread and a little jam was on it. This was like a feast for me; I usually got half a piece of toast for lunch and dinner. I ate the toast and I felt sick almost, but I knew even if I was on my deathbed the orphaning couldn't pay for a doctor. I walked into my room and sat on my bed and pulled out my journal. 

Dear Journal, August 9, 2012. Bedroom.

    I had a good meal today, a whole slice of bread and jam on it. Another couple came today and my roommate got picked, yeah and she was only here for two weeks. Compared to me, being here for four tortuous years. I never come down for adoptions after what happened with, Jim, Bob, Tom, and worst of all Jack. Supposedly my dad, I just can't take being abused anymore it hurts too much. I hope one day I can just leave, maybe leave forever.

 Drip, drip, drop my tears fall onto the paper smearing the ink. I don't think I could kill myself, not that it would affect many people's lives. I mean my mother turned to drugs and left me on my father's doorstep when I was four, and then I had four years of abuse. My father's abuse was the worst, mostly because I was related to him. It stopped when he tried to kill me and I ran out into the street and my neighbor was out. I just hope to someday have a purpose in life, goodbye.

I shut my journal closed, clutching it to my chest. I fell back onto my uncomfortable bed and I lightly traced the scars on my stomach through my shirt. I had everybody's name that adopted me carved into my stomach, I then fell asleep my journal dropping to the floor and my other hand at my side.

"Mommy, where are we going?" I asked, "You’re going to your father's, I'm sick of you."

She snapped back at me her hand still on the wheel. Her face staring out of the windshield as she debated on turning back or not, her jaw line sharp and prominent. Her oily red hair tied up in a messy bun, her face looking old and worn despite her young age, the drugs had already taken a toll.  We lurched to a stop, my naïve four year old self smiling holding on to my teddy bear. I had been told I was going to visit someone who goes by the name of Daddy, I had been so excited. Little did I know me in my little pink footsie Dora the Explorer pajamas I was going to get a harsh reality check at such a young age?

I  turned my head to the side my vision being filled with tall over grown grass and weeds, warning signs plastered everywhere, the infamous yellow DO NOT CROSS tape had been wrapped around the property line, but it had been obviously ran it over a few times with a car. I had gotten up on my knees to get a better look, my hands creating oily prints on the window. There was an old, beaten, run down one story flat. The white paint was chipping off, the windows where boarded up, the door was rusted and the grass was about up to my knees. My mother knocked on the door, and suddenly a man came out.

"What?" He growled, he was wearing a grey wife beater, and boxers, he was holding a cigarette. I remember his dark green eyes, the exact opposite of what my innocent eyes had held. He needed to shave; I saw all of his tattoos over his huge arm muscles. Seeing one of his hands was wrapped up in the white gauze, dried crimson blood on his knuckles.  My mother and father where talking to each other then I was shoved inside, the place reeked and screamed alcohol.

"You look just like your stupid mother, bitch." He growled before slapping my face, and then there was a ripping noise and my teddy bear thrown to the floor.

“Mr. Snuggles!” I cried before crying out because of a burning sensation in my delicate creamy colored skin. Then realization had hit me, he was burning me with the cigarette. I whimpered then he held me up by my arm his eyes looking over my body with disgust, he dropped his white and tan stick and then stamped it out. His now free hand gripped my pudgy stomach, he tisked before dragging me into a closet locking me in there. That closet was where most of the abuse happened, where I got raped, cut, and beat. 

I was woken up to, Brooke shaking me.

"Grace it was just a dream!" I shot up from her touch, and I wiped my face from the tears I didn’t know had leaked. . I just nodded then walked into my bathroom, and I turned the water on. We were only allowed 10 minuet showers due to costs; quickly showering enjoying the warm water why it lasted. I got out and changed into my white jeans and a lace shirt, they were both handy downs from Brooke. I didn't mind them; I brushed out my hair before braiding it to the side. I didn't know why but I felt like something good was going to happen to me, little did I know I was going to be adopted by a famous boy band.

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So how did y'all like it? Good, Bad, terrible, its amazing? Leave your opinions in the comments! Read my other story I'm Related to Zayn Malik? What?! Its a Harry Styles love story!