Echoes of a Broken Melody

Chapter 1

CW// Abuse

AN// THIS STORY IS UNDER CONSTRUCTION!!! TO CONTINUE READING MEANS THAT YOU AGREE TO ACCEPT THAT SOME PLOTLINES, NAMES, AGES, AND PEOPLE WILL CHANGE. THANK YOU FOR BEARING WITH ME AS I WORK TO MAKE THIS EXPERIENCE MORE VALUABLE TO YOU.

Brooklyn Jones. The name bred deep into the brunette's skin, whispering her secrets of worthlessness and failures.

She was known as Jones, Number 884, or even The "Problem Child."

If there was a bad stigma around it, bets are that it could be pinned on Brooklyn Jones and still make sense in the eyes of Brightside.

Now Brightside, they're a whole 'nother story. What seems this beautiful facility to help look for forever homes for kids was actually a living nightmare.

Daily beatings and sexual abuse lived within the walls of the place they were forced to call 'Home'. A place they couldn't seem to escape from despite their best attempts.

There was a large bang against the door, startling the small girl.

She rushed over, and opened the door. Her cheeks were red and she was preparing for what was to come, quickly apologizing.

"This damn door stays OPEN! You got that, you little twerp?" the middle aged women shouted, shifting her weight to one side.

A swift slap was placed across Brooklyn's cheek, immediately stinging as it happens.

"I said, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!"

Brooklyn was quick to nod her head while holding her cheek.

"Now go get dressed, there's a showing in less than an hour and you all—" she turned and threw her hand on her hip, leaning back "Are to be on your BEST behavior."

The rest of the day went on how you could expect it would. Brooklyn adjusted how she was wearing her uniform, pressing out the wrinkles as best she could.

She stood there, looking at herself in the mirror, frowning. Was there a point in dressing up? In playing the part of perfect angel?

A sigh escaped Brooklyn's lips, one she didn't even know she was holding. She looked...tired. As if she had been through a thousand reincarnations of this living hell, and she was finally over it.

She slid a cheap clear lip gloss over her lips.

The showing went about as well as it possibly could've.

A seemingly sweet couple came in and chose which one of us lucky teens got to live a "normal" life like we were pit-bulls in a kill shelter.

We were trapped and they knew that. They knew that they were our only hope to escape this hell of a facility.

It was over as soon as it started, and we were all set off to do whatever we do with what little free time we have left before our daily slavery had started.

For Brooklyn, that was sitting on her uncomfortable bed with an extremely old laptop. If anyone were to see she had this, she would be ruined.

Her labors would be doubled, and no doubt the laptop destroyed.

But the girl deemed it worth it enough to bring what little joy she got from it.

A shrill 'yes!' was shouted through a closed door, initiating Brooklyn to quickly lift her mattress and stuff the laptop back under.

The door swung open, slamming into a hole that was already in the wall from events quite similar to the one they were in now.

"LICK IT UP, BABY! IM OUT OF THIS HELL HOLE!" she giggled, tossing hand in the air, her light suitcase following close behind.

Many girls crowded around the girl, Amanda, talking.