N.B I do not own any of these characters
I stare up at the cold, grey walls that loom menacingly above me, seeming to suck in all the colour and cheerfulness from the world around it, turning it instead as drab and grey as the crumblingstone bricks.
A solitary elm tree stands in front of the house, separated from its fellows by the 6ft stone wall surrounding the place. Clutching grimly on to the trees branches, much like the shackles worn by a prisoner, is a battered metal sign. As Im dragged closer to the house I can make out the words printed boldly on the sign, 'Burnywood Children's care home'.
"Right then" snapped a voice beside me. I almost jump, having temporarily forgotten this woman beside me. My so called social worker. I still can't believe this is happening…that mum and dad have done this. I know they've never liked me. I'm too disobedient, refusing to conform, to project the false image they want to convey of the perfect family. The sweet, sensitive, domestic mother. The loving, cheerful, caring father. The smart, polite, well-mannered daughters….
I could never see the point of playing along with mother's games. Sure we may look the part with my Dad's checked pullover's and ties, and my mums prized pearls and motherly dresses, but we were far from the perfect family.
"Mandy! Can you hear me!" barked the social worker again, louder this time. "Well, if I couldn't then I'd hardly be able to reply to your question would I?" I replied smugly, allowing my witty remarks to create a mask behind which hide my true feelings of insecurity and terror. "And I've told you before, its Elektra". I've told her these about 5 times already, and she still doesn't seem to have grasped it. II mean it's not exactly rocket science is it. If she's an example of the intelligence looked for in the employees here then escaping from this place should be a doddle. I just hope she doesn't try to introduce me to the other kids by my real name. I honestly think that giving your child a name like 'Mandy Perkins' verges on child abuse. Don't parents realise that names like that mean that you attract bullies and smart alecs faster than a stray dog attracts fleas? Is it any wonder I changed my name to Elektra as soon as possible after seeing the trouble my sister had.
The social worker blew disapproving through her nose "Yes, well" she sneered "We better make a move. We're late enough already thanks to that little performance earlier." I scowl at her, dragging my Doc martins through the gravel as I follow reluctantly behind her. I suppose that usually the kids she picks are overjoyed to be going. Maybe they can't get away fast enough. Perhaps it was therefore a shock for her to have to pick up a child who so wanted to stay, one who couldn't, who wouldn't believe that her parents were throwing her out like a bag of unwanted rubbish…NO! I won't think about that, I have to stay strong, I can't show any weakness. If my life at home has taught me anything it's that you always have to present a mask to the world. Show them your true self, your vulnerabilities and your weaknesses and they'll tear you apart like a pack of hyenas.
I take a deep breath and follow my social worker inside the home. The entrance is dimly lit, and security cameras follow my every move. Carved into one of the bricks in the entrance are the words "Welcome to Burny hell". The door shuts securely behind me, locking itself as it does so. I'm trapped.