The Delinquent's Haven

Chapter 1

          Once on the road, Haven finally realized her life had become bleak and unimportant; all of it due to her own vain.  She had made the choices she made out of spite and hadn't thought about anyone else wile deciding to do what she did . . . but it didn't matter. 

          No one else had thought about her when they made their choices, so why should she care about them?  If she didn't matter to anyone, why should anyone matter to her?

          They came to an unfamiliar road and started driving down it.  Haven's eyebrows creased together as the unrecognizable path drew her in.  Sighing, she took out her headphones and turned to the social worker, who wore the same set frown since she talked to Haven last week. 

          "This isn't the road to Juvie Hall," she stated simply causing the social worker to let out a small, humorless snicker. 

          "You aren't going to the Juvenile Detention Center," her words caught Haven off guard and she eyed the social worker as they continued down the road.

          "A couple -- two older foster parents -- saw your file and decided they'd take you in with the rest of the troubled children from all over who knows where; lucky you," she spat her words at Haven with resentment and it was obvious to her that the social worker had been looking forward to taking Haven to Juvie Hall. 

          "Huh . . . "  Haven said, thinking over the explanation she'd just heard in her head.  Sighing, she decided against going further into the conversation and leaned back into the seat.  After securing her headphones in her ears again and listening to a few more songs, they pulled up in front of a looming, double story house. 

          "Here you are," the social worker said sarcastically, causing Haven to hop out of the Caddie.

          Heading up the walk to the front door, Haven slung her satchel over her shoulder and stuffed her iPod inside of it.  Once she reached the door, it swung open to reveal a petite woman in her early fifties.  Her hair was blond, slightly grey at the roots, and very brittle and dry.  Her eyes were a warming blue and her short and skinny figure suggested she'd been a very active woman in her younger years. 

          Not that she's ugly now, Haven thought bitterly to herself. 

          Tilting her head to the side slightly, Haven looked behind her to see an older gentleman.  He was in his mid-fifties to early sixties, as well.  His hair had gone nearly all grey and he was balding only mildly.  His hard, brown eyes and strong build suggested he was a hard-working, strict man.

          Haven wasn't found of strict, uptight, harsh people and that set her off in her head almost immediately.  With a sigh, she smiled weakly and shrugged off the look the older gentleman had been given her as the woman moved out of the way to gesture her inside. 

          Walking in, Haven's jet black and lime green Vans beat against the hardwood floor as she drug her feet throughout the house.  Smirking to herself, she looked up and around to completely take in the full detail of the house. 

          The entrance in which she was standing was open and seemed very hollow.  Looking up, her eyes hit a ceiling about fifteen feet high, along with the staircase.  It was tall and had about three landings from where she could see.  There was no carpeting so far; even the stairs were bare wood. 

          Looking straight ahead, Haven saw a spacious living room with a sixty inch screen television and a set of couches, along with a chair and a few beanbags hanging around in the corner.  The furniture was cheap compared to the television, but Haven didn't really care.  She'd never had things of value and she wasn't planning to start collecting items that would mean nothing to her in the future.