Stage One: Denial
I'm pissed.
There are alot of things I should be thinking. I should be upset. I should be crying and kicking and screaming and throwing things at the walls. I should be feeling something. I do, sort of. I'm just pissed.
They're not dead. Everyone keeps telling me they are, though. I'm getting really sick of it.
They just fell. Alot of people fall. They're fine.
They tell me it's perfectly natural to be upset, and I tell them that I'm not upset. I ask them why in God's name I should be upset, and then they look at me funny. Everyone's insane.
I eventually got placed with the man who owns the mansion across the road from the fair grounds. I ask why I can't stay with Pop Haley and the rest of the circus. They give me one of those idiot answers, like the real answer will send me into a hypoalergetic fit in a corner or something. It really is pissing me off.
I was picked up at the court house. A long black limo pulled up with perfect persision, an old, stiff looking man in an equally stiff suit stepped out, told me his name was Alfred, took my suitcase, and held the door open expectedly. I had nothing to do but get in. I figured it wouldn't be for long.
A/N This isn't gonna be a big thing. Just an experiment of sorts.
