Something Unexpected

TWENTY-ONE: Fifty Shades of Misery

Christian Grey isn't the only one who's fifty shades of fucked up.

I was living proof of that.

I yawn and scratch my head as I walk over to my chest of drawers. I spot a small pill bottle with my name written on the prescription label as soon as I open my top drawer.

I grab the bottle and sigh as I look at the little Zoloft capsules. These little happy pills were part of the reason I didn't go completely nuts like my mother did in her last days and I had come to really appreciate them.

The combination of medication and therapy with my shrink Dr. Ashe, has improved both my mental and physical health. I was less irritable and moody. I had started eating again. I was able to concentrate better. I even slept a little better...

But the pills hadn't been some magical cure for my condition. They didn't change the fact that I had some major issues, and talking about a lot of them in therapy didn't make them magically disappear.

But I was getting a little better everyday, which I guess was most important.

"Alana! Come downstairs before your breakfast gets cold!" Miranda Queen, my adoptive mother yells from downstairs.

I open my door and stick my neck outside just outside the frame. "I'll be down in a minute!"

Then I turn back and quickly grab my brush. There was no mirrors in my room, and I liked it better that way, but it made it a little difficult to style my hair in anything other than a simple ponytail. So like usual, I brushed my thick hair back and secured it with an elastic.

Then I make my way downstairs.

Serena was on the new phone Oliver and Miranda had just given her. I'm pretty sure she didn't have many contacts, but she's been talking and texting on that phone almost non-stop since she got it. I, on the other hand, am not nearly as attached to my phone.

I mean why would I? No one wants to talk to me.

Well except for Charlie and Grant on occasion.

She looks up for a split second before I sit down next to her. Her big brown eyes raked my appearance while her face morphed into a scowl.

"What?"

"Another ponytail? I swear you been doing that same exact style everyday for the past three months." I didn't want to confirm that she was right, only because the confession would be followed by "why? " or "what's going on?"

"Don't start Serena. What I do with my hair is my business so drop it. Besides, you have more important things to do than worry about how my hair is styled."

She narrows her eyes and sticks out her tongue like the immature person she was. Instead of commenting further, I start filling my plate with eggs, bacon, and pancakes.

I admit, meals with the Queens were a bit odd for me at first. Even with the other foster families, it was rare that we all sat together and actually ate and talked together. It was usually more like, grab some cereal or whatever was leftover on the table, and hurry up before the school bus comes. And in the evenings, you sat quietly and ate whatever was put on your plate with no complaints.

But it was different with Sally, our last foster parent, and with the Queens. Most mornings and evenings we had good food and pleasant conversation. Except for when Sarah was in one of her "moods."

I sit across from Sarah noticing how disgusted she looks as she stares at her organic vegan parfait. But when he mother gives her a pointed look, she slowly raises a spoonful to her mouth. It was sad how hard Miranda tried to fulfill Sarahs special⸻in most cases ridiculous⸻dietary requests. And it was quite sickening to see how much she complained about or wasted what was given to her.