Stitches Undone

Chapter 1

The family I was with now, the Hilliard family, let's just say they could be better.

Way better.

There were the twins of theirs; a girl named Grace and a boy named Freddy. Freddy was always trying to hit on me, get me to sleep with him, or kiss him. He was desperate and I was the first female that wasn't related to him by blood. Freddy was gross, in my opinion, with being disgustingly overweight and never bettering himself; he never showered or brushed his teeth, and had acne all over him. All he did was play video games and eat, really. And yet, with all my rejections that were both verbal and physical, he still continued.

Grace was another story altogether. I'm sure if you were to look up the phrase "condescending bitch" on Urban Dictionary, you would see a picture of her right next to it. She was always bullying me, harassing me even, on everything possible. But being the two-faced girl she was - in front of her parents, she just absolutely adored me.

Her parents weren't much better, either.

Their mom's name was Sarah, and the father was Dennis. And they were both over-controlling, ignorant, religious fanatics that loved to torment everyone and anyone. They were always trying to control me, which didn't work out too well for them, and shove religion down my throat. I'm not saying religion is a bad thing; I might have believed in it if I hadn't have had such a shitty life, but it gets tiresome when someone chokes the living daylights out of you with it. I was sure the only reason they were foster parents to begin with was for the extra sum of money the state gave them each month.

The wind began to pick up, making me shiver even more and stumble on my feet. I dropped the almost extinguished joint on the ground, completely forgetting about it. It was smothered by trash blowing in the wind. I was not picking that back up. I was about ten minutes away from their house now, the streets getting better and better with each turn I made. Houses popped up, forming a neighborhood, and there were a few people out and about. They gave me odd looks.

I knew what I must look like to them: a bruised up, distant-looking girl with shaggy, uncut hair wearing clothes that didn't match and barely fit her. I was almost bone-thin from not eating, but I could still kick anyone's ass if they messed with me. The people didn't bother anything but a glance or two, however. I could feel the calming effects of the weed just as I turned onto their street. It set my nerves back in their place, giving my constant anger a break from everything.

"Liar!" Grace called from the doorway, using her "oh-so-clever" nickname for me. It could take a baby with a brain deformity to go from Lyra to Liar, but she seemed to think it was the smartest thing she had ever done. "Hurry up! Mom wants you here now!"

"Whatever." I yelled back, going slower just to make her mad. She stomped her foot on their porch and you could almost see the smoke spewing out of her ears. It wasn't hard to make her throw a tantrum.

"I'm getting mom!" She screeched like a pterodactyl, storming back into the house, leaving the door ajar. For a girl with the body of a fifteen year old, she had the mentality of a four year old.

I slowed my pace even more, tempted to go cuddle with the hobo under the bus bench. It was definitely more inviting than the house that loomed in front of me, and I could handle the homeless man with ease.

"Lyra!" I could hear Sarah calling from her throne. That's what I called the worn out recliner she never seemed to leave unless it was for business or food. She was a lazy woman and never wanted to be bothered. Chances were the wicked foster mom was going to punish me for indirectly bothering her.

I had to pick up my pace then, knowing if I took even a half a second longer than she wanted; she would make my life hell - and that included Breezy. I didn't want to press my luck, so I jogged the rest of the way and into the house.