These next few chapters might be a little confusing, but it will clear up later. I will try to post chapters every week, but with my schedule that might not be possible. But I will never, ever, EVER do the whole, "I will not post the new chapter until this book gets (insert obscenely large number here) reads/votes." It's really unfair to those of you who DO read and DO vote, so I will never do that. Anyway, hope you enjoy!
It's that sound. It doesn't matter whether it's day or night, the noise seems to linger in the house like an echo. The children's laughing, the squealing, the occasional scream. I'm sick of it. I'm tired of my life going around in more circles than a ceiling fan. Yet no matter how hard I try, I just can't seem to break out of the loop.
I stare at the same door that I've stared at for years. I sigh before rolling off the bed and shiver as I place my feet on the cold, tile floor.
I tiptoe down the hall to see the foster mother, Ann, scowling at the bottom of the stairs. However, I'm not alarmed, I'm fairly certain her face is stuck in a permanent frown.
"Bree, what the heck have you been doing? Do you not know what time it is?" I glance at the clock behind her. It's only seven. I could have slept in another half hour if I wanted to. "In order for this house to run smoothly, everyone needs to be on top of their responsibilities. When you're not down in time to make breakfast, everyone else faces the consequences! People don't like children who are irresponsible." And there it is. Tip number one thousand, two hundred and four, don't be irresponsible. My bad. But isn't today Saturday? I only have breakfast duty on Tuesdays. It's fine, I guess. Wouldn't want to break rule three hundred and fourteen, "Don't start arguments."
"Bree, hurry up! I'm hungry! Ann says it's your resb-on-ility," shouts a little boy, jumping out of his chair and yanking on my arm. He's the newest kid to join the foster house. Although, I don't think he'll be here much longer. The sad truth is the younger you are, the quicker you get adopted. Once you hit the teen years, your chances of ever leaving while you're still an adolescent plummet.
I limp to the pantry and grab a few boxes of cereal and a bunch of bowls, which I haphazardly toss onto the table. I go back and get milk, which I again place on the table.
"Bree, we need spoons!" A voice shouts.
"Oh yeah, sure. While I'm there, maybe I can scrounge up some social skills," I mumble, just quiet enough that nobody can hear. I grab a handful of spoons and pass them out to grabby hands, all without saying a word. I never was much of a talker, fortunately I have a very complex inner-dialogue to keep me entertained.
I slide into an empty chair, placing my head on the table. I just need to get though today, so I can get through tomorrow. And the next day. And the next. Because, one of these days, it's got to get better. It will work out.
I watch Ann's feet appear beside me, and she starts her usual morning speech.
"There are going to be a few potential adopters coming today, so I want all of you on your very best behavior. If you could all..." This is the part I usually stop listening.
I lift my head up and hop to my feet to leave and go outside, but Ann puts a hand up to stop me.
"Where are you going? You're staying in here to get ready for the families." Ann and her husband Stan have been trying so hard to get rid of me, especially these past few months. I'm the oldest one here, now that Alyssa is gone.
Did I forget to mention that? Alyssa's not here anymore. She's been gone about a year. What are the chances that a childhood friend of her mother lived just half an hour away with her husband?
I roll my eyes, knowing full well that no one wants the quiet girl in the corner of the room staring off into who knows where. I can't help it, though. I have so much information in my head, it's all I can do. Then there are the awkward moments when I collapse to the ground unconscious. That's been kind of a deal breaker for most people.
A few hours later, the potential adopters, for lack of a better word, start showing up. I'm wearing a stupid dress that Ann forced me to wear. It's bright and yellow and full of floral accents. I hate it. She doesn't even care what the other children wear, but lately she's been so desperate to get rid of me, she spends hours trying to fix me up. She cheerfully convinced all the children to go outside and play in a "non-aggressive manner." I just sat under a tree and tried to figure out life's greatest mysteries, because that's how exciting my life is.
Everyone leaves me alone for the most part, but then a couple, probably in their early thirties, walk over to me. "Hello!" The woman says, "What's your name?"
"Brielle," I say, without taking me eyes away from the ground. Maybe if I don't look at them, they'll leave me alone.
"Oh, that's a beautiful name! My name is Nancy, and this is Drew," she says, pointing to the man next to her.
I want them to leave me alone. It's too late now, they're already set on having a conversation with me, I know it.
My head starts spinning, I know I'm going to go into a Dream soon. I need to get out of here before I pass out.
"Do you want to go in the house so we can get to know you better?" Drew asks. I want to say no, I want them to just leave me alone, I feel horrible and I know I have minutes before I go unconscious. Just say no, Bree! You need to get away from here. Yet for some reason, I nod my head yes. I get up to walk up the hill to the house, and I nearly fall over.
"Are you okay?" Nancy asks. I can't answer, the world is spinning around me. I have to brace myself against the tree for a few seconds, then I steady myself.
I start walking up the hill when I hear someone yell "Run!" No one is saying it though, it's all in my head. Everything is blurry, and I can't think straight. "We need to go!" The voice says. My knees buckle and I fall to the ground. Someone is yelling at me, but I can't tell who. "Let's go!" The voices are getting louder, they echo through my head. Finally, I surrender to the Dream and let the darkness swallow me.
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