Ignorance Is Bliss

One: They Say Opposites Attract

Is that why they call me
A sullen girl, sullen girl
They don't know
I used to sail the
Deep and tranquil sea
Nut he washed me shore
And he took my pearl
And left an empty
Shell of me

~Fiona Apple| Sullen Girl

To say that I have an awful relationship with my foster parents would be the understatement of the century. I've lived with Rachel and Matthew Morgan for the past six years of my life, since I was ten, and since then my life has been a total and complete living hell.

Well, I shouldn't say it has been that bad the whole time. I mean, when I first moved in with them, everything was fine and dandy. I was actually happy, for once in my life.

We had probably looked like the perfect little family to any outsider: honor roll student, beautiful mom, and hard-working dad. And it felt perfect for a while. We used to bake cookies, do my math homework together, and even watch those old, black and white silent movies and make up what we thought the actors were saying.

So yeah, everything was pretty perfect.

Up until I turned fourteen.

On my fourteenth birthday, Rachel and Matthew decided to throw me a birthday party, seeing as it would be my very first one. I remember it being so much fun: picking out the cake- testing frostings and cake flavors, getting a whole wardrobe of brand new clothes, and even getting to wear make up for the first time.

I actually felt beautiful.

They invited all of their friends and neighbors in an attempt to make up for the friends that I didn't have. I didn't mind about having all adults there; it was my first birthday party and it wasn't really in my place to complain.

All of our neighbors had brought over there toddlers, our neighborhood being a very "kid-friendly' one. Most of the little kids had floaties on and were bouncing around in Rachel and Matthew's built-in swimming pool. Some of the adults were in the pool as well, either making sure their kid wasn't drowning, or just enjoying the unusual April warmth.

When the time came around for me to open my presents and cut my cake, I was thrilled, having never seen so many presents in my entire life. I tore through all of that wrapping paper like I was fiber-hungry. From our neighbors, I got an array of presents ranging from an alarm clock to an old Mumford and Sons CD.

By the time I was getting around to tearing off the wrapping paper of the last present, it being from Matthew and Rachel, Matthew cleared his throat, asking for all of our attention. Apparently, I had thought, they had another present in store for me. I remember grinning up at them, expectant.

"Ahem," Matthew had said again.

He smiled when he had our full attention and then grabbed Rachel's hand.

"We thought that this would be the perfect time to tell you..." he trailed off, looking at my foster mom.

She grinned and squeezed his hand, "We are going to be welcoming another foster child into our home!"

I remember looking around confusedly. What did they mean, bring another foster child in the home?

All of our neighbors were smiling and nodding, heck some of them were even clapping. And then it clicked. Another foster child.

Rachel looked over at me, elation filling her face. "She's the same age as you, dear. And her name is Macey."

My face had gone red from embarrassment and my ears were tingling. Who was I to think that I'd be the only kid in their care? Who was I to be that selfish? But I was selfish. I thought I was entitled to at least that much, it being my birthday, right?

I remember getting up from the table, the bare skin on my legs sticking to the cold metal of the chair as I brushed down my skirt. It burned, but I didn't care. I had pushed away from the table, my chair falling to the cement. A toddler had started crying from the noise. But I didn't care.

I ran out the back door, crying, not knowing that it would be the last time I'd cry. As soon as I stepped foot outside, I ran. I didn't know where I was going to, I just ran. I probably ran a good mile or five, never stopping. My long, dirty blonde hair stuck to my face in various places where the tears kept coming, but I never stopped running. And I never looked back.

I remember the looks on people's faces as they watched me running, mascara staining my cheeks and running down my neck. They had probably thought I was crazy, or at the least, depressed. Or maybe they didn't care at all. After all, why should they have?

And then I remember the familiar sound of an SUV pulling up next to me and Matthew's steely voice, as steely as his eyes, saying, "Get in the car. Now."

The rest is just a blur of memories, not that it all matters.

Since that day, I haven't been able to trust anyone.

Well actually, I take that back. I found one person I could trust. And that one person was the most unexpected.

The day Macey McHenry stepped foot in our living room and I got a good look at her, I hated her. I hated her because she was beautiful. I hated her because she had the ability to make Rachel and Matthew laugh. But most of all, I hated her because every time she laughed, it was forced. I didn't really have any reason to hate her, actually.

But the moment after I saw her, I saw past her long sleeved t-shirt and saw the bruises; the hundreds and hundreds of bruises and scratches. And I knew I couldn't hate her. We had both come from abusive homes and it made us closer than ever. They say opposites attract, but in this case our similarities bought us together.

She turned out to be the only person in the world that I knew I could trust with my life.

I could trust her because she could trust me.

But this is probably all very confusing. Maybe I should start from the beginning. The very beginning.

My name is Cammie Solomon.

Welcome to my interesting life.

an: so, this is a new fic i started. i know. new fic? am i crazy? well, i just might be ;) but these are some events that have happened to someone close to me and its easier to write than talk about it. special thanks to maryclumsykatherine for betaing this for me and being such a supportive friend. also, Embyr7 for listening to me vent and being understanding. and Don't Forget About Me. how could i leave you out? or forget about you? hahaa your name proves me right ;) we've had the funniest and most memorable conversations. thank you all for being there. i love you guys!

so, review? or well, comment? thank you!