Outliers

Chapter 16: Deborah

Deborah's POV:

The kid from the bus - Austin, that was his name - seemed to trigger something in the back of Deborah's mind. Those killer green eyes were from somewhere, she knew that. But not a finger could be put on it, and she couldn't help being bothered by it.

What else could she think about? Around her were monotonic grey walls of cubicles, and she sat in an uncomfortable, black, scratchy material that was supposed to pass for a chair. Why was she here, you ask? Memories of last week flooded her mind, and her gaze went unfocused as she thought about all of the chaos of the events.

-

Charlotte Rose led Deborah out of the hospital, filing and signing the papers that the secretary was pushing her way. Shouldn't her dad be signing where it says that the parent/guardian is supposed to sign? She thought against it; knowing her dad must be in jail by now, counting the days until he could get out.

With a sympathetic smile, Charolette led me by the shoulder out of the doors. Away from the white, harsh lights. Away from the smell of antiseptics and blood. Away from the cries of newsborns, the cries of pain, the cries of death. It all was too much for Deborah, making her head dizzy.

But once home, she was calm; knowing every nook and cranny of the structure. Yet, the hallways felt more hollow than just empty. Echoes of the pots and pans that probably won't move again. Couches unsettled, like they longed for warm bodies to rest on their cushions.

"You're just here to collect your things, Deborah. Remember?" Charlotte informed, her matter-of-fact tone taking off an edge, only for a second. Dusting off imaginary dirt from her crisp, ironed pants, Charlotte looked intently at Deborah. Deborah had still refused to move.

"Well, I still have a mother, don't I? I should be able to stay..." Deborah spoke slowly, like she was talking to Taryn. Hell, she'd talked to Taryn in a higher intelligence level than that. "Remember?" The last part she retorted; mocking Charlotte's own nasally voice.

For once, Deborah finally saw Charlotte let down her formal guard, watching as the grown woman bit her lip nervously. Deborah's eyes widened in fear of what Charlotte spoke next.

"Did I not mention this before? Sorry," Charlotte apologized ahead of time. This wasn't good news. "After your father's arrest, your mother has filed for you to be put up for adoption," In case Deborah doubted the words on the blonde's tongue, Charlotte held up the papers. "Of course, she needed a qualifying reason. Her case, as shown, was that she was struggling with income; she couldn't handle a child by herself. We even inspected the house, and under these conditions, we agreed."

Deborah thought for a moment. Her own mother optionally put Deborah up for adoption? Tears collected in the corners of her eyes, making her peripheral vision blurred. Damn, now she was crying; and cursing. 'Why?' was the only word crossing Deborah's mind, frustrated so much that she thought blankly.

-

Now, in the office building, Deborah felt the tears for the fifth time this week.

The first time was when Deborah was told that she was being put up for adoption. A second time, when she had to face her mother for signing more adoption papers. Third, when she had to face her father and his sorrowful, dark eyes, whilst signing more papers. It killed Deborah to see him with an orange, baggy t-shirt tucked into orange, baggy pants and handcuffs to his back.

That was to make sure he didn't strike out on Deborah; if only they knew, that it only happened when the alcohol was in his system; Deborah was sure they didn't give any prisoners any kind of alcohol.