A/N: Hey, hope you like this story! :D The other chapters are longer.

Various books, toys and clothes flew across the room. Tops and jeans were strewn across the floor; a petite girl was in the small corner of the room, beside a wide open wardrobe. Her face was tear stained and red, slight scratch marks visible where she had tried to wipe them away furiously. No tears would be seen by anyone outside these four walls, no matter how hard they tried to break her.

Her light brown curls fell messily down her back and she constantly pulled loose strands behind her ears. The girl's smoky grey eyes scanned the room and the items around her as she hunched over a wide open suitcase. It hurt so much. To know that all of these things would be gone soon, never to be found again. Sent to a charity, a care home, perhaps a children's ward in a hospital.

They all needed it so much more than she. So why did it feel so much like she was letting someone down? The fact that every item she held in her fingertips blew a new memory back into her mind. She'd love, in a few years, to look back at all of these memories and see them in a brighter light. Not like now, when they just sent a fresh flood of tears to the brim of her eyes. But that couldn't happen. She had to be strong about it. For Rueben, she had to be strong.

That day she had crashed against them, clawing her way through the barrier of people and clambering over to him. They said he couldn't be with her now, because he was too young. They had to go to seperate care homes, because the one she was going to didn't have room for too many little children. Somehow, they should've made an exception. For Lorna, they should've made an exception.

In fact, Lorna didn't need their help. Not their homes and their stupid social workers. Social workers. What sort of a name was that, anyway? Lorna would have been fine without them, she could've looked after Rueben on her own. Cleaned people's cars for money. Sleep in shops at night. Stayed at home, in fact. Why couldn't she stay at home?

"Lorna! Are you ready?" the police woman's voice called up the stairs, evidently growing impatient despite the fact that her voice was kind and gentle.

She didn't reply. Her voice would only shake if she did and, Lorna had promised herself, in order to get her brother back she could not show signs of weakness. There was only one way they'd get through to her, and that was if she had her brother back.

Hesitantly, she stuffed her favourite books into the zip up compartment of her suitcase and struggled to zip it back up. A few clothes went in - the ones she'd been given for the most recent Christmas, along with some pieces of jewellry and hair grips. Next was a teddy. His brown hair was somewhat rough and short. His beady black eyes were still both in perfect condition, but his rainbow scarf was tatty and a few strands had begun unravelling. Lorna couldn't stop a smile at the sight of him as she placed him carefully into the case. A few DVDs went in, but not for watching. For memories. A couple of notebooks went in, too, full of things she'd written years ago. Lastly was a small pink blanket and a large scrapbook, in which she had hurriedly placed all of her photos in a promise to stick them in as soon as possible. After all, if she wasn't going to talk then she was going to need something to do with her time.

Now she just had to close the case, which wouldn't be easy. Sitting on the top of the suitcase, she pulled at the zips around the case with force and finally closed it tight shut. With a sigh, she leaned back against her wardrobe. Across her line of vision, on one side of her bed, something glinted in the light of the sun sitting on her desk. Her phone. She pondered over whether to take it, unsure of whether she'd want to answer texts from her friends. What was the point in listening to their sympathy over and over again, yet unable to actually see them? Nonetheless, she grabbed the phone and stuffed it in the pocket of her cream coloured coat.

"Lorna?"

She rolled her eyes and pulled the suitcase up, rolling it towards the door. With one last turn, she smiled at the sight and closed the door firmly behind her. At the bottom of the stairs, the policewoman stood. She shot a worried glance at Lorna, which she ignored and walked right past. Outside, two adults waited beside a black car. Her careworkers, no doubt, along with a social worker that stood beside the door.

Lorna fought the urge to glare at the social worker as she made her way grudgingly to the car. The young woman who stood there, her black hair straight down to her shoulders, grinned encouragingly and took the suitcase.

"I'm Tracy. This is Mike, he's the head careworker," she gestured toward the man beside her, with his bald head and friendly smile. He opened the door for Lorna and waved his hand toward it, as though he was a chauffer and she was a posh woman.

They seemed nice enough. Lorna gave them the honour of a nod, before climbing into the backseat of the car and glancing around. Bit of a boring car. Nothing to look at. She turned her attention to the window, instead, watching as the houses zoomed past. Nobody spoke until they reached a tall building. A sign stood up proudly at the entrance of the drive, 'Elmtree House.'