𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖶𝖠𝖫𝖪𝖤𝖱 𝖱𝖤𝖲𝖨𝖣𝖤𝖭𝖢𝖤 was better known as the house of horrors. It was most often referred to this by Eris Walker, the only child that occupied it.
Eris hated that house. She claimed she'd rather swim in a tank of sharks than spend another day trapped in the hell hole she was 'supposed' to call home. And Eris Walker was terrified of sharks.
Living with two parents that neglected her since the day of her birth, was not what Eris had imaged her life to be like. She wasn't sure why her parents even kept her, seeing as they didn't want her in the first place. In all honesty, she thinks she would be better off if they hadn't kept her. Nonetheless, the flaming red haired teenager held a kind smile to go along with her warm heart. She truly was the opposite of the life she lived. If you hadn't known what went on in the Walker house; which, many didn't, they only knew rumors and myths (which were of course started by Eris herself, in order to keep real suspicion off her back), you'd think the happy go-lucky girl lived the perfect life, to go along with her perfect smile.
But her smile masked the darkest of secrets lodged in the back of her throat, and her eyes held visions of real life nightmares.
She was fortunate to have her three best friends beside her. Stiles, Scott, and Lydia, were her homes that weren't homes.
Her cousin Lydia lived a life completely opposite to hers. While Eris wasn't from the wealthiest of families, Lydia was practically swimming in a never ending pool of money. Everyday she seemed to have a new designer hand-bag, to go along with a new outfit, because she'd be damned if she was ever seen wearing the same thing twice.
It was astounding the two were even related. Other than their nearly identical fire-like hair, the two didn't look much alike. But Eris always had a sneaking suspicion she wasn't truly a Martin by blood. But the several DNA tests she had done for safety measures unfortunately told her otherwise.
The Walker girl always hoped she wasn't truly related to the two people labeled as her parents. She hadn't even recalled a day in her life where she didn't refer to them as an insult or just their first names. Never in her entire life did the labels 'mother' or 'father' slip from her chapped lips as she spoke to them. Because they weren't.
Mr and Mrs Walker were not her family.
Eris had grown up with one phrase locked inside her mind.
Family doesn't always mean blood.
She lived by that; a motto, as some would refer to it as. Eris Walker was practically an orphan.
