The Delinquent's Haven

Chapter 1

          She glanced toward the kitchen to see a poorly tiled floor and decent, mint green walls.  The counter tops were white and wiped clean and the appliances were fairly new.  There was a doorway that connected to another room; the dining room.  There was a large table with about ten of the same looking chairs. 

          Of course, Haven thought while she walked through the house and listened as her Vans tapped the ground repeatedly.  There won't be many nice things here; they'd probably all end up broken or ruined in a day or two anyhow.  It's not like that matters, anyway . . .  I'm sure this is one big, happy family.

          "Alright," she heard the social worker from the door.  With the way she was talking, it seemed as if she was eager to leave, which made Haven smirk.  

          Good, she thought.  I don't want you here, either.  

          "I'll check in on her by phone in a few weeks, if I find the time.  I'll make sure to call before hand if I decide to stop by, and I'll email you her health records tonight.  Have a good night, Haven!"  Her voice was overly cheery and irritating to Haven's ears. 

          "Yeah, whatever . . . "  She bitterly stated as she walked back toward the entrance.  She smirked sarcastically at the older man and sweetly at the petite woman.  She reminded her of her mother and the man reminded her of her father; both in which did not settle well with her. 

          Sighing, the woman returned the smile and began to speak.  Her voice was much stronger than her body suggested she was, and she smiled down at Haven all the while speaking to her.  Haven wasn't sure whether the smile was genuine or not, but the gesture was welcoming enough to her, for the moment at least.

          "Well, Haven, it's nice to finally meet you.  We heard about your case a couple weeks ago and thought you'd like somewhere to stay where no one would judge who you are . . . and that's just what I'm hoping will happen here," her smile flashed once more before falling breifly and then becoming plastered across her lips, again. 

          It was almost as if she wasn't sure of how she felt toward Haven moving into the foster home they were putting together.  Haven wasn't sure how she felt of it, either . . . because the woman seemed genuine in wanting her here, but the man seemed bitter about her presence. 

          Maybe he saw something in my file and decided to judge me off of that, she snapped at herself in her head, allowing the bitter grimace to return to her lips before she looked back at the woman to thank her. 

          "That was very . . . thoughtful of you.  Thank you," Haven really was genuinely grateful for what she'd said; she just wasn't an expert at showing any kind of gratitude.  She glanced at the man who seemed to relax slightly now that he heard her respect his wife. 

          "My name's Maragret and this is my husband, Charlie," she said, gesturing to the man standing beside her.  Haven nodded, taking in account their names and then their body language.  She managed to read people in a way through their eyes and actions and she was a little apprehensive as she took in the way they were standing together. 

          Charlie's hands were placed lightly on Maragret's waist and he was close to her back; almost pressing himself against her.  The smile on her face seemed deceiving, but that's how everything in this world seemed to Haven.

          There was something else that set Haven a little off balance in her stomach . . . and that was the way Charlie was constantly switching his eyes from Maragret's neck to her ass.  It was almost as if he had some kind of hidden intentions in the way they were standing together, and thinking about what they might do with each other made Haven want to gag herself.