CHAPTER 1
I was sitting on my bed in the orphanage room that I had all to myself, strumming my acoustic guitar. I should probably introduce myself, huh? Okay, well my name is Dahlia Black, I'm seventeen years old, and I have no friends. Well, except for my acoustic and electric guitars and my iPod Touch, which is full to bursting with Beatles songs. My favorite color is green, and my favorite bands are The Beatles, as you know, Green Day, My Chemical Romance, and Ozzy Osbourne. People tend to stray away from me because I like the Beatles and hate Justin Bieber and Lady Gaga. And because my favorite TV shows are CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, CSI: NY, Supernatural, House, and Lie to Me. And possibly because I have crushes on guys like Paul McCartney, John Lennon (yes I know he's dead, leave me alone), William Petersen, Wallace Langham, Tim Roth, David Thewlis, and Gary Oldman.
Um, yeah, like I said before, I'm an orphan. My parents died in a car crash when I was one. I don't like talking about that. I've lived in the orphanage since then, hoping to be adopted. But, alas, I never was. People apparently don't want kids that feel like they were born in the wrong era. Yep, you heard me right; I think that I was born in the wrong era. My life sucks, period. I would have loved to have been alive in the sixties, the time of my idols, The Beatles. The orphanage that I have lived in for sixteen years is in Boston, Massachusetts, which is where I'm from.
But anyroad, I was strumming my guitar absently, laughing to myself when I started to strum out the tune to "Yesterday". Paul is my favorite Beatle, then John. I sighed, setting aside my guitar and getting up. I walked over to the window and looked out at the city of my birth and sighed again. I walked back over to my bed and pulled a duffel bag and two guitar cases from underneath it. I put my acoustic guitar that reminded me so much of John Lennon's in its case and shut it. I then turned to my black Gibson electric and put it in its case, shutting it. I turned and walked to my dresser and closet and threw all of my clothes and personal items and sneakers into my duffel and zipped it up.
Tonight was the night that I was leaving the orphanage...leaving the only home I ever knew.
About two years back, I decided that I wanted to leave and live my life. I wanted to fly to London and rent a flat and get a job and when I had enough money, I wanted to go to school. I had graduated from high school with highest honors, but no one was around to give a damn. No one would miss me, so that wasn't an issue. I did my research and found out exactly how much it was going to cost, and then a week ago, I finally got enough money, from mowing lawns and babysitting for the younger children in the orphanage when the staff was shorthanded.
I grabbed my bags and put on my leather jacket and gave myself an once-over in the mirror. I was wearing a turquoise T-shirt, my leather jacket, a pair of super skinny gray jeans, and my favorite sneakers, my checkered Vans Off-the-Walls. My medium length brown hair was highlighted with platinum blonde and my blue eyes shone out amidst an underlining of chocolate brown eyeliner. I nodded and grinned at my reflection. I made sure that my iPod Touch was in my pocket, and its charger in the duffel and turned around, grabbed my bags, and wrenched open the window. I shut off the lights and climbed out onto the fire escape carefully. Once I descended the ladder and made it to the ground, I looked up at the dark brick building, and for the first time, I felt truly free.