Prologue
Somewhere deep in the heart of Greensboro, Virginia, in a little cute house, in a blue room was a comfy couch and two chairs with a coffee table stationed between them. In one of the chairs was a therapist with a notepad, on the coffee table were a bunch of scattered Rorschach tests, and on the couch laid a girl with braids who looked less then enthused.
The man had entered the room barely five minutes ago, and silence had filled most of that time. He had introduced himself, but the girl on the couch hadn't been listening and didn't even bother to introduce herself.
The therapist tried to start a conversation for the third time, smiled and looked briefly at his files.
"Katherine, is it? That's a very pretty name."
"Katherine" rolled her eyes at this.
"Katherine if you could please take a look at some of these pictures, I'd be very interested in what you have to say about them."
She looked up at him finally with raised eyebrows, thinking to herself, Kind of on the nose, don't ya think? But the man just kept smiling. With a long, "Pfft" to herself, she sat up from the couch.
"Okay." She said, grabbing the papers and staring at them. There was a look of amusement that briefly flickered across her eyes before she answered her findings on each paper, one by one.
"This one looks like a dick." She flipped to the next page, "This one looks like a dick." Next one, "Looks like a dick. Looks like a dick."
Finally, at the last one, she put all the papers down and stared at the therapist, "Happy now, Freud?"
The therapist had a brief look of shock flash over his eyes before he calmly sighed, "Katherine, I understand that you don't want to be, well from what I gather, feels liking probing to you." He wasn't noticing the sudden stop in the girl's bored playing with the ring on her thumb, and the immediate curling of her lip, "But Katherine, your foster parents are very concerned about you, and maybe if you could just talk to us maybe we can help you-"
Finally, she snapped at the man, "First of all! It's Katy. K-A-T-Y. Space. Weston, bitch." Her finger raised accusingly at him as she glanced briefly at the door where she knew her foster mother were listening, "Second, you don't think the police and therapist they sent in didn't already ask these questions? Why do you think I was held up there for six freakin' days! And they had cookies. So why don't you just go take your little notepad and sh-"
"Katherine!" Called a voice from outside the room, which belonged to Katy's foster mother who stormed in soon after.
"Christine, please remain calm and-" The therapist tried to soothe, but was soon cut off by the dark-haired woman screaming at the girl.
"You do not speak to adults like that, young lady! You will show respect!"
"Why? Most adults are idiots!" Katy screamed right back confidently, "I'm looking at two right now!"
"Everyone please…"
"What is with all the shouting?!" A man named Joseph stormed in.
Katy pursed her lips together briefly and raised her hands in a way that said, See what I mean? As she said aloud to herself and Christine, "Make that three!"
"Everyone, please calm down!" The therapist raised his voice slightly higher to be heard, then relaxed moderately, "I can see we are all tightly wound up right now, I suggest we make an appointment for another day. Here is my card, if you call that number you will reach me directly when she's ready to talk."
The man had handed Mr. Davinport, Katy's other foster parent, a professional looking business card. A card which Katy ripped out of her caretaker's hands, glanced briefly at, then looked spitefully at the therapist.
"I'll save you the trouble of waiting by your phone." She said tearing the card into pieces before letting them fly down to the neat-looking carpet, "Spend that time getting your PhD I noticed it wasn't part of your title, genius."
Christine and Joseph were fuming, but Christine was the first to speak, her arm outstretched to indicate her oncoming command, "Go upstairs and pack your things!"
"Oh finally!" Katy mocked as she ran upstairs angrily, though slowed down to listen in on their conversation.
Christine held her head in her hands, "I can't do this anymore, they've got to find someone else. Nothing will handle that girl!"
Katy scoffed, then muttered to herself, "I hope I was just an appetizer to what kind of kids you'll get."
As the therapist, who had been a friend of their's, calmed them with meaningless platitudes about how they were doing the right thing and how "she needed someone with more discipline" to get better, Katy was practically hopping up the stairs. Mostly because she knew how much Christine hated the noise.
When reaching her room, she grabbed her duffle bag and began to pack. Out from the closet she took her old clothes, and the select few new clothes she did like from Mrs. Davinport, and shoved them in the bag. Next came the now stolen copy Grey's Anatomy, which had sat uselessly on the shelf of the Davinport household and hadn't even been noticed as missing when Katy started using it to fall asleep. That was really more out of spite than anything else.
Finally, Katy crawled under the bed and grabbed two zip-lock bags of stakes and vervain, which she had somehow convinced Mrs. Davinport were supplies for a school art project.
She rolled these things in a few T-shirts before putting them in the duffle bag last.
Fully packed and ready for a trip that wouldn't start until tomorrow morning, Katy took one last thoughtful look at the pristine little blue room, and ripped off the covers of the once made bed to hang off the side.
She nodded to herself in approval.