I'm sat at home on my own waiting for my sister to come home. She's gone to pick up a "friend" of hers, from her old workplace. This friend is coming to live with us, for the now anyway. Normally, I wouldn't have any complaints about the situation. But this isn't a normal situation, in any way shape or form. Bridget's not my real sister, this friend is a convicted criminal and she fell for her when she was working as a councillor at Wentworth Correctional Facility.
My sister's a councillor, and she's called Bridget Westfall. Her job is to go into prisons and be of service to the inmates, and before that she was a resident councillor at a school for troubled children; it was a small, isolated boarding school out in the middle of nowhere, for kids that had so many issues, that were deemed to be beyond repair, and no one cared about them. It's a similar sort of thing to a Juvenile detention centre. Most of us didn't have parents. That's how her and I met. I am one of those troubled kids. Bridget was my therapist, she was all the kids therapists. But we connected in a way no one else did. I got to her, on a personal level, so she took a step back from trying to help me, and then one day decided she was going to file to become my guardian, against everyone else's advice. I was 13 then, and it was granted when I'd just turned 14. She took me away from that horrible place, I'm 15 and a half now, and I have a relatively normal life. I go to a "normal" mainstream school; I have friends that I hang out with, there are no rules and regulations to adhere to and there's no curfew's to be in by. I spend most of my time sharing the sofa with a half empty pizza box, in front of the TV. But that's how I like it. We do have some unspoken rules in the house, like no drinking or smoking, and Bridget must know where I am and who I'm with and what I'm doing, but that's just the usual parent stuff!
There is no trace of my old life left, and you wouldn't think anything different if you were to meet me and my sister. You wouldn't suspect that we weren't sisters, or I'd had a troubling childhood. We fit into society perfectly. Behind closed doors, I still have my days where I can't escape from the past and it comes back and haunts me with vengeance, but it's only to be expected apparently. I can't thank Bridget enough for how she's helped me. She doesn't see it, but she's been able to help me in a way no amount of counselling and doctors could. She's given me a life and a purpose. I still have to see an outside councillor, but it's only to keep the authorities quiet.
Bridget is my legal guardian as I said, but I don't call her mum. We talked it over when I moved in and decided we were both more comfortable with calling each other by our first names and saying that we were sisters rather than she was my adoptive mum.
I'm not sure how I feel about this new person coming to live with us. It's always been me and Bridget. She's had a couple of partners (male and female) while she's had me, but she's always put me first. As long as this third person in the house doesn't change that I have no complaints, but I'm not exactly comfortable living with someone who's just got out of prison for GBH. Then again, it was the same situation when I moved in with Bridget, so I can't really comment on that.
I could hear Bridget's car coming up the drive then, so quickly ran and put my journal out of the way underneath my pillow. Bridget can't ever find out about it. I would like to have at least one aspect of my life kept private.
I ran down stairs as quickly as I could and dived onto the sofa just as Bridget put her key in the door. I pulled my laptop onto my lap just as she came through the front door, to make it look like I hadn't moved all the time she'd been out.
"Hey little birdy" Bridget called to me as she walked through the front door.
Bridget shuffled into the living room holding onto the hand of a black haired woman. She was tall and slender, with perfectly layered hair. She was well dressed, in skinny jeans, boots and a red and black checked shirt. She certainly didn't look like she'd just walked out of a prison.
"This is Franky." Bridget said. I didn't know what she was expecting me to say.
There was an awkward pause as we looked each other up and down.
"Franky meet Abby, Abby meet Franky." Bridget smiled, but raising an eyebrow to me, expecting me to make the first move.
I looked Franky up and down again and raised my eyebrows. I then turned back to my laptop and continued what I was doing.
I heard Bridget sigh and mutter something under her breath.
"The kitchen is through there, I'll follow you in in a second!" Bridget giggled, she was acting like a spoilt teenager again. I rolled my eyes at her. The neighbours weren't going to be getting any sleep tonight, that was for sure.
"Hey, I expect a little more from you lady. I know you don't like new people, but if I thought there were going to be any issues, I would never have said she should come and live with us, okay? So just give it a chance? Okay?" Bridget said to me, softening her tone towards the end. I didn't have a choice in this, and that's what I didn't like.
"mmm" I grumbled in response. I didn't agree but I didn't disagree. I would take this at my own pace and she knew it.
They went in the kitchen, for privacy I think. But it was pointless, I could still hear what they were saying.
"She'll warm up to you, I promise." Bridget reassured Franky.
"I'm sure...I know when someone doesn't like me." Franky replied.
"It's because of her past, she has a hard time with people and accepting change. You know this, but she will come around. You did in the end." Bridget giggled.
"Didn't I just..." Franky responded. Following this was a series of muffled noises and giggles, which could only have been Franky and Bridget kissing.
I waited until the noises stopped and I decided it was safe to venture into the kitchen.
"How much have you told her?" I asked walking into the kitchen. To my relief they had finished their make out session.
"Enough." Bridget said firmly.
"That's not an answer Bridget. You said to Franky that she knows this because of my past. How much did you tell her?" I said. I didn't want Franky knowing anything about me or my past.
There was a moment of silence before Bridget answered.
"Everything." Bridget whispered in a very quiet tone. I shot a look of disgust at her.
I opened my mouth to say something, but I didn't have anything to say. Not that would express how I was feeling. I shot another look at her and stormed out of the kitchen, slamming the door on my way out.