Opporutunity Cry x Reader

Opporutunity Cry x Reader

33.5K Reads 982 Votes 22 Part Story
nysiawastaken By nysiawastaken Completed

                     Your p.o.v

My name is ____ and im 13 years old. My parents died in a car accident when i was 3 and my grandmother and grandpa looked after me. They turned me into the orphanage so you could have a better chance at life. They were wrong and i still havent found the right opportunity. No one would adopt me and i have no one. I was quietly listening to my favorite song (insert song) and lying down on the couch until i heard a faint door bell ring and the fake happy caregiver. Thats when i knew something was going to change. As the person walked into her office, a kid walked slowly behind with his head down low. He looked up and around then spotted me. I then realized i was staring and quickly looked away. He looked away and walked into the office. 'that was strange.' i thought to myself as i walked back to my room. The other kids were being loud so i closed my door hoping for some peace and quiet. I finally sat in my mini ball chair when Ms. Moment called over the in...

  • cryaotic
  • wattys2016
I wasn't listening to my favorite song but my second favorite song so good enough for me
Ive been in Florida for far to long in my opinion and me organized? Since when
BadtimeAnna BadtimeAnna Nov 11
Having organization is not the best all of the time...my mother was about to pay for a pizza she wanted but my father had taken her wallet and as I was about to grab my shoes out of my closet I found twenty dollars. :3
PoisonSkeleton PoisonSkeleton Jul 29, 2016
I was quietly listening to my favorite song The Quite. The irony
killerkitten27 killerkitten27 Oct 23, 2016
this is close to what happened to me, i am 13 but my parents died in a car crash when i was 4 and now i live with my aunt and uncle, don't get me wrong they are amazing but i miss my parents.... mostly cause i barley remember them.....
123hoe 123hoe May 29, 2016
you know you're about to read some👌quality fanfiction when the writer can't spell the word prologue