Becoming Anne Again

Chapter Eighty-Three

A/N Hello my loves! I am back, again! And this time I actually will be updating weekly, because everything has already been written. 

As always, you are all in my prayers and I love you. Thank you for sticking with me through this story, even though I've had to step back a few times.

(Also, I wanted to make the letters look like handwriting, but I think I'm going to have to find a way to create a separate letter and insert it like a picture. We'll see how that goes. If anyone has any ideas, let me know!)

Tinisha had been at the O'Keafe's house before Anne had. She was, in fact, the first person Anne had properly met in that house. She had had her hair up in a tight bun, which was the only tidy thing about her. She had a black eye and a swollen lip with a little bit of blood leaking out the corner. She had looked Anne straight in the eye, and said, "What do you want to become?"

Anne furrowed her eyebrows. "I don't know?"

"Well whatever it is, you better think of it quick. That's your reason to live."

Anne had bounced on her tiptoes. "Oh, I think you find reasons to live in everything. For instance, if I were to die I would never be able to see moonlight pool over the ocean, and you couldn't imagine mermaids..."

"Yeah, cut the crap." Tinisha glared at Anne, making her shrink back. "The Little Mermaid isn't going to get you through this place. You want to live? You better think of something that's a reason for why you have no choice but to live. Because trust me, if you're given a choice, you're gonna wanna die."

"I don't..."

"Keep your head down. And you have to learn how to read people." Tinisha had pulled a bobby pin out of her hair and handed it to Anne. "Come on, quick, while we can. You're gonna have to learn how to pick a lock if you want to survive."

Anne's reason to live had been that she wanted to write all the stories in her head. But that was forgotten until she was nothing more than a living ghost who hadn't died out of pure spite. And then there was Hannah and Sadie, and she had to take care of them--she had to survive for them. 

Tinisha squinted at Anne, and Anne couldn't help but wonder if she could read her thoughts. "Come on. Sit down." She patted the space beside her, and Anne obediently sat down.

"How are you? Where have you been? Did you make it out? Are you okay? How did you find me? How..."

"Take a breath." Tinisha smirked at Anne, and Anne couldn't help but smile back. "Yeah, I made it. Been kind of drifting around. I decided the foster system wasn't for me," she said wryly. "Now onto you."

Anne felt her gut turn over. She didn't need to pick locks anymore—the doors didn't have locks.

Tinisha put her hand over Anne's. "Anne, I know what happened. I'm proud of you."

Anne started trembling. "You...you are?"

"Yes," Tinisha said, and Anne looked up so she could see Tinisha's smile. "You did what you had to do. You were strong, just like I told you to be."

"But..." And then Anne was trembling even more. She leaned against Tinisha, hiding her face in Tinisha's shoulder. Her shirt was soft, and she smelled like laundry detergent. "She—she was one of us..."