I'm running. It's what I do when I get upset like this. I mean, yeah, I always came back. But not this time.
I'm walking on the side of a road that I've been on for hours--no cars have passed by yet--I mean, it's not like I'm running away from anything important. Just an adoption center. An
orphanage. Where I have one friend who's being picked up for adoption tomorrow.
If anyone tells you life's fair, laugh in their face and don't be sorry about it.
My parents left me when I was four years old. I had thought that I was getting something I had wanted. I was getting something entirely different.
*Flashback*
Happy 4th Birthday Sarabella! (that's what my cake said on it.)
"Today is your birthday, Sara, you can have anything you want," says my mom. Her name is Sarah.
"Anything I want? Really?" Any thing I want. That sounds great. (Why would they do that for me? Why would they say that?) Anything can be everything in a quick second, I thought.
"I want…a…pony!" Ha! A pony! Could they really? I thought.
"Okay, baby girl. You want lessons?" Mom and Dad say in unison.
"Wow! Really? Yay! Thank you, Mommy and Daddy. I love you." I glance at my parents, then at the people here at my house. Then I thought, "Yay! Pony lessons. This is great!"
There were only a few close friends and family there, and they left twenty minutes after the cake was cut. Ha, close friends and family, who leaves after twenty minutes of festivities
and merry making?
Then a half hour later, we are at the farm. Hm, this doesn't look like much of a farm, more like a house.
Then my dad, Billy, says so quietly I have to listen really hard, "We would like to check in our friend's daughter." I couldn't hear anything else, but the thing I had heard scared me.
I'm not a friend's daughter. Maybe they meant to say something else. For some reason, I have begun to have a strange, bad feeling in my stomach. I don't like it so I tug on my mom's
shirt sleeve. She does not look at me. I start to cry. I look at my daddy but he's busy with the woman.
The rest is a blur. The next thing I know my parents are gone and then the lady who seemed so nice a minute ago says, "Go on you little brat. I don't want you here but apparently your
parents don't want you either. Just go to your room. It's the last one at the end of the hall on the second floor."
Then I look down and I see the one thing I have to remember my parents by: A golden heart locket with a rose on the front.
*End of Flashback*
I was only four, and even then I could tell that they didn't want me at that moment. Why would they want me? I'm a Plain Jane. Sarabella the tan, thin, sixteen-year-old.
I looked to my neck again where the locket I got ages ago hung loosely around my neck on a gold chain, it mocked me, "This little beat up locket is a subsitute for your parents. How
pathetic." Now I'm on my way back to where I came from. La Push. Now that seems a little stupid. To go back to the place where your parents live, they abandoned you, the little voice in
the back of my head told me. Shut up I told the voice. Your not going to try and talk me out of this one. Now, even though
that little voice was my voice it was the scared part of me. The part of me that was afraid that when I get to the house my dad won't even want me. I don't even know why I'm going
back. But I do know every living thing craves one thing--sometimes even more so than money--and that's to be wanted.
Yeah, parent. Singular, as in the orphanage owner got a call saying my mother was dead. I cried about it for quite a few years. It stuck me hard. I was only six when they told me she died.
If your asking why I was crying about a woman that left me when I was four, then you're a heartless, cruel excuse for a person. That was a human life struck down. Not just any human
life, the one that gave me life. If she carried me for nine months then I must have meant something to her, right? (You can tell I have mixed feelings about my parents.)
That was then, though. This is now. A lot has changed since then. I came to the conclusion that my parents didn't want me after all--I had hoped for so long that my parents had
wanted me and they would come back--it was hard to except at first but then everyone at the orphanage had made me realize that there was a lot about me to not like, like that I cry
every night before I go to bed. Scratch that. THAT IS how I get to bed. They made me realize that I was weak. After all, who would want a sensitive girl who cries herself to sleep? No one,
that's who. That is why I cant blame my parents for leaving me at the orphanage when I was four. I was so deep in thought that I almost didn't realize that I was standing in front of the
very house I grew up in.
So i hope you liked the first chapter! I need some feedback so please review. As soon as i get some reviews i will put up the new chapter.
3,
Bubbly Brunette 95