Hey guys! Here is the official first chapter for this book! It's a bit intense, but there's more to it then it seems, I promise! If it seems like you all like this, I'll continue on with it. If not, then I guess I won't. Drop me some comments! Enjoy :)
Day 1:
It's been three days since I ran from my old placement. The lady at the police office put me in the system in this town. They're sending me to a new placement now. They're making me go to the high school here, too, for my last two years. I don't really care if they make me go to school or not. I just hope this home is better than the last.
"Emma!"
Emma stoped writing in her diary, snapping it shut abruptly the moment somebody neared her room.
"Emma?"
"Yes?" Emma answered, avoiding the eyes of the social worker who was here to ship her off once again.
"It's time to go. Are you ready?"
Emma rolled her eyes. That was always the question. Who could ever be ready to live in a new home with new people who only ever wanted her for the money? Who could ever be ready to face a new life every day without knowing if they will be hurt when they get home?
"Yeah, whatever," Emma muttered, lifting her singular bag over her shoulder after slipping her diary into it. She pushed her black-rimmed glasses further up her nose, then followed the lady.
Her blonde hair spilled over her shoulders, confined by a ray beanie, and remained almost statically still from the lack of bounce in her step.
Half an hour later, Emma was standing at the porch of her new 'home' with her social worker's hand on her shoulder. She rang the doorbell.
"Don, get the door!"
"I'm going, Britt! Shut the hell up!"
Emma gulped. She could feel her body tensing up as somebody approached the door and opened it.
"Who the hell are you supposed to be?"
A large, burly man with little patches of curly brown hair, caterpillar eyebrows, and a bushy mustache eyed Emma suspiciously. His face contorted in disgust.
"Someone who doesn't smell like kitty litter," Emma muttered, cringing when he leaned in close.
"Excuse me?!" He bellowed.
"This is Emma," the social worker cut in. "The child you agreed to foster?"
The man's demeanor shifted within seconds. He straightened his posture and flipped his attitude with time to spare.
"Emma! Ah, yes, yes of course! Emma, Emma what a pretty name! Come right on in," he said with a fake smile, giving Emma a glare as she slipped into the house without another word.
"I'll come back to check in on things in a week or so," Emma heard the social worker say before the door was slammed shut. She could already tell the way things were going to go around here.
The large man approached Emma, towering over her as he glared into her eyes. From a nearby door, a slim and also tall woman appeared with a thick head of blonde hair and way too much botox.
"My name is Don Barkley. This is my wife, Brittney Barkley. You shall address as as either Mr. and Mrs. Barkley or Ma'am and Sir. Understood?"
Emma gulped.
"Yes si-"
"Did I give you permission to speak?!" Don raged. Emma shook her head.
"You shall be silent unless otherwise advised by either of us. You will remain in your room and if we think you're worth it, we might just feed you. You will go to school and come right back home. No excuses! Or you'll be punished," Brittney said in a shrill voice.
"Now get up there and don't come back down till morning for school," Don spat.
Emma nodded fearfully, running up the stairs.
"Quiet on the stairs!!" Brittney yelled.
Emma's breath hitched. She quietly made her way to the tiny room they'd provided her. She knew life here was going to be hell, but it was something, she supposed.
She settled down on the little, sad cot with a sigh. Why her? What had she done to deserve this?
She asked herself those questions every single night, hoping she'd wake up and find the answers she sought.
She was still looking.
Day 2:
Yesterday wasn't great. I think I can already tell that these people are worse than the last family. It's barley my second day with them and I'm already terrified of living here. I don't think I could get away with running this time. Once I head downstairs, the day with them starts, and... I don't want it to. But if I don't, I'm certain they'll punish me. I don't want to find out what that looks like. Here we go...
Emma closed her diary and got dressed as quickly as she could. Each moment she used up, she feared either Brittney or Don would come upstairs and punish her for not getting up early enough.
Once she was completely ready for school, Emma silently made her way downstairs. She entered the kitchen with caution unsure how to present herself. At her last home, she'd been told to always greet them good morning and then make breakfast to feed them. If there were leftovers, she could eat them before she was forced to walk to school. Emma figured if this home was anything like the last, it would be the same.
She took the chance that she was right and started getting breakfast ready. Maybe yesterday was just a bad day for the Barkleys. Hopefully this would get Emma in their good graces.
She cracked some eggs into a pan and started to get some toast and coffee going. She managed to find a little vase of flowers and set it on the table, just in time to serve the eggs and toast, then pour the coffee.
The Barkley's has woken up and they were coming down the stairs. Emma scoffed a Don's feet practically shook the house with each step he took. How come she had to walk silently but he didn't?!
"Just what do you think you're doing in my kitchen?!" Brittney immediately screeched when she saw Emma. She ripped the serving spoon out of Emma's hand.
"Good morning," Emma said fearfully, shrinking back. "I-I made breakfast," she whispered.
"Did we give you permission to speak?! To touch anything in this house?!" Don growled.
"I-" Emma started.
And then there it was. The blow to the face she's grown to expect from ever home she was sent to. Emma bit her lip in pain, holding back the urge to cry out. The blow had not only stung, but it dug her glasses into her face.
"Apologize!" Don shouted, his face made ch too close to her ear.
"I'm sorry," Emma whispered.
"Louder! You're sorry what!"
"I'm sorry, Sir," Emma managed, barely holding back her tears.
"Get out of my sight," Don said viciously. Emma swallowed a sob, grabbed her bag, and ran her way to school.
Emma arrived at the high school panting and weary. She was dressed in one of the only outfits she owned. An old, tattered pair of jeans, dingy white tank top, a black sweater, and her beanie that hid her blonde locks.
Emma stepped towards the front desk.
"M-My name is Emma Swan," Emma said, her voice shaking. "This is my first day."
"You okay?" The lady at the desk asked. She had a short black pixie cut and kind green eyes. Emma faked a smile.
"Mhm."
"Alright, Emma, just give me a minute to find you in the system."
A few minutes later, the kind woman handed Emma her schedule and a guide of the school.
"If you need anything, don't be afraid to ask questions," the woman smiled. "I'm Ms. Blanchard."
"Thanks," Emma said softly.
She made her way through the halls of the school, trying to get to her first class, but fell behind a few minutes when she got lost.
"Damnit," Emma muttered.
It took her a good five more minutes to get to the right floor of the building, and another two to get to her class.
She was late.
"Is this... Ms. Lucas's class?" Emma asked nervously when she opened the door. The teacher, a lady who looked way too old to be teaching, looked her up and down with an unimpressed expression.
"It is."
"I'm... Emma Swan. I'm sure you've been told, I'm new here," Emma managed, swallowing thickly.
Ms. Lucas's eyes narrowed, eyeing her suspiciously, but then she stepped aside and allowed her into the class.
"We have a newbie," she announced. "Her name is Emma Swan."
Ms. Lucas pointed out the third set in the second row and told her to sit there for the day. Emma nodded and quickly made her way over. She was desperate to sit down. She didn't want to be the center of attention any longer than she had to.
She was so close. Emma was so damn close to sitting in that seat and being free of the attention she was receiving until she tripped. Some bitch in stilettos had stuck out her foot.
She fell, flat on her face, and her books scattered everywhere. Her glasses fell off her face, bouncing out of her reach. The entire classroom burst into laughter.
"Milah! That's detention for the rest of the week!" Ms. Lucas shouted, sending the girl off to the principle's office.
Emma's face was bright red with embarrassment. She reached out, helplessly angry as she searched for her glasses and books. Someone passed over her glasses, to whom she mumbled a thank you, then she went on to collect her books.
The classroom was filled with whispers for the rest of the class while Ms. Lucas taught. There was only one that Emma could make out, though. Only one who's speaker she could identify.
"What a loser," was the comment.
Emma glanced up with sad eyes and met those of the guy who'd said it. He was tall, taller than her for sure, and had a fluffy head of raven hair. Bright blue eyes danced on his face, shining brightly. He was well dressed, and had quite the defined jawline- plus a scruff beginning to grow in. Emma couldn't tell, but she thought he'd had some sort of accent. A British one.
He was the one who'd said it.
Her eyes filled at the comment, but she blinked back her tears and forced herself to pay attention.
What a wonderful start.
Not.