It was always the question that overlapped her thoughts. Not a single friend. No parents, adopted or real. No one wanted her around. The only ones who noticed her were people who just wanted to push her around.
It was always the question: "Should I Exist?"
With no friends, she focused on her work. No parents, her guardian was the head of the orphanage, soon to change. She would be 18 soon, which could only mean one thing: she'd be kicked out soon. Good thing she had been working since she was 14 at a local book store, with nothing to spend her money on other than better clothing. She saved up all her money; four years worth of payment. Her current pay was nearly 12 dollars and hour, which she was working almost every day of the week, after school and extra hours on weekends.
At least she had people in books she could love.
Not only that, but the manger and store owner loved her. They were like parents to her, though one was nearly four years older than her. Had the owner not already had three kids (whom of which detested her being), he would have adopted her in a heart beat. She always brought in her straight-A report cards to him, brought everything to him that was "good work" in her eyes. The manager of the store would always be just as excited as the owner was to see such an innocent, yet troubled girl so happy.
The girl also loved to read every book in the store. This pleased the owner and the manager very much. She always knew which books to suggest to customers, and participated in reading clubs, and even reading to others; mostly to children and the elderly. She got paid for such things, but usually always tried to refuse the extra money.
But she could use it though. Every last penny at that.
She planned on getting a house soon, buying a ranch close enough to the store so that she could walk, until she got her license. She had gotten her permit twice already, the owner often letting her drive him around while running errands. The head of the orphanage won't allow her to get a license, let alone, a car. She'd leave the orphanage if she had a car, and that's exactly why she wasn't allowed. All in all, she could afford a car, a house, and much more.
But to buy a house and keep it, she feared she would need a second job or a major raise. She would never do that to the owner though. Asking for a raise, to her, is like asking permission to kill someone.
…Just doesn't fit.
So today…. She's looking at today's newspaper while she sits in study hall at her low- low cost cram school. Every teacher was strict, and even worse were the principle and vice principle, but nothing could top the class-mates, and other students enrolled at her school.
One more year of this could kill her.
She was nearing the end of her first quarter as a senior. Top of the food chain? Yeah right. Even the elementary school kids at neighboring academies got more respect than she could ever even hope to have. Even they picked on her, using words that no kid could understand, let alone the fact that they shouldn't even know the words that they throw at her.
But, it's brats like them that get no where in life.
The girl had a lot going for her. She was the only student enrolled in Shell Stone Academy who was offered a scholarship. She was probably the only student who had ever gotten an A on a paper in Shell Stone history. Then again, she got an A on everything.
As she scanned through articles of jobs, she noticed something that really caught her eye: "Preferably" was the word that stuck out to her. She had always figured that they would have higher expectations.
[Kaiba Corporation. Looking for a new secretary under the CEO. Preferably be 18 or older.]
As her silver hair hung over her shoulders, her blue eyes continued to scan the page, though she really wanted that job at Kaiba corp... She wasn't 18. She didn't even read the pay or bother to look at the contact information though. She's not 18 yet, so it wouldn't matter.
But what was this her eyes had come across now? A game store, "Kame Game," in need of a cashier in the neighboring city, Domino. That wasn't too far from the ranch she planned to buy. Who knows, maybe she could even transfer to Domino Academy or Cram School in that city. Anything would be better than this "Shit School."
"Should she exist in such a place?" She didn't want to sound conceited, but compared to anyone else here, she deserved much better. She considered visiting Domino, just to get a look around; see if she could get that job and transfer papers to the academy. All she could do was ask the owner if he could take her over there at some point.
In mid-thought, the bell rings. Her thoughts are broken, as well as her focus. Standing from her chair and desk, she gathers her books and the newspapers.
One more class left to go.
"Kisara." A strong yet feminine voice calls to her.
"Yes, Mrs. Baits?" The reply is feeble.
"You have a note from the office. You're too report A-Sap." the voice states, Kisara not even reverting her blue eyes to face her.
She holds out her left hand, the right holding her books. As she pushes her chair in with her hip, the note is place in her limply held out hand.
"Thank you, ma'am." Kisara says, knowing not to look her in the eyes.
"You're welcome." Mrs. Baits says, watching as Kisara disappears behind the door and leaves.
"Urgent" That's what the note read at the top.
…Should she even exist to read such a word?
"Adoption? Me?" Kisara's voice rose in shock.
"Yes. You're being taken today for immediate departure to your new home and school. You're to pack your things and be on your way."
"But…" The feeble voice returned, "Who adopted me? Don't I have to approve my new family first?"
"Your last name is now Crawford, but I don't know how adoption works, Hun. Your orphanage guardian is her to get you." Principle Lena finished, leaving her alone in the office with her soon-to-be-denounced guardian and the Shell Stone Academy's secretary.
This ruins all her plans. How can she keep her job? Buy a house? A car? A license? Go to Domino? And her birthday is in two weeks… What's the point of adoption this far into her life?
Crawford…. Why did that sound so familiar?
Kisara had heard that name before, but where? She pondered the thought as she walked to her locker, closely followed by the "old hag," Mrs. Witherington. Her name suited her well. She was once so beautiful, nearly ten years ago, like a lovely rose. But like all beautiful flowers, time has taken the beauty of the rose, and withered a woman old and decrepit.
Along with her beauty withered her kindness.
But then again, she was never all "too" kind. She's very sexist, hating every girl at the orphanage, but loving every boy and crying as each left. She looked so anxious to be rid of the smart blue eyed girl with silver hues. Who wouldn't be happy though? The owner and manager, hopefully.
At her locker, Kisara took out everything, leaving no scrap of paper left behind. She struggled to hold every book, though she would have to return three of the textbooks. Eventually, Kisara and the hag had made there way back to the front office to return the books. No thanks to the hag- No, it's okay. Don't help when she dropped the same damn book four times on the way- and now they were headed out to the car.
"Mrs. Witherington?" The name slipped from her mouth almost entirely out of her control.
"Yes child?" She replied informally.
A moment passed before Kisara spoke again, "Why did you sell me without my consent? Why so close to the day I'm to be on my own anyways?"
For the first time, Mrs. Witherington had smiled. It wasn't fake, nor was it a smirk. A truly delighted smile. Had she wanted her gone that badly?
"I had many chances to sell you…" The hag had started, "But I would not sell an innocent child to a family that wouldn't do her any good."
…She cared?
"There was one family though… They had been looking at you for quite a long time. The money has been gather for a very long time, but your new father had been quite too busy to take care of a loving young girl. Now that there's nothing in the way, and he looked back on a few things in his life, he is ready for the daughter that him and his fiancé had always wanted. You were held on lay away just for the Crawford.
"What am I? Furniture?" Kisara thought.
"And he finally mailed us the pay." Mrs. Witherington finished.
"But… Who are the Crawford?" Kisara questioned nearly sounding helpless.
"I'm surprised you don't know, nor remember. You've met him."
Him…? There was only one?
Kisara searched her memories. Crawford…? Crawford…? Nothing came to her mind. Who could he possibly be?
That conversation had taken place during the short trip in the car. She could see the orphanage peaking out from the corner of the street's next turn. Kisara slid in her seat, not wanting to confront the building, knowing she had only a short time to say goodbye to the massive structure.
"There will be a reunion in a couple months…" Mrs. Witherington hissed, not all too excited about the thought, "But I want you to come… There's some people I don't want to see again… But you're one of the few flowers in that bed of thorns… Try to make it?"
Kisara? One of the "flowers" of the thorn bush? She never would have guessed she could have ever been considered one of those flowers.
"Mrs. Witherington… May I ask one more thing of you?" The words trembled out her mouth.
"Of course dear." The calm answer crept through the air.
Kisara cleared her throat and took a deep breath. "I know you mentioned a fiancé, but you only mention my new father… Why is that?"
A sigh tainted the air. "Whom was to be Mrs. Crawford passed away the night of her wedding. A rose took her at the gathering. The kiss was never settled, and he remains… Lonely. They wanted a daughter together. He wanted the perfect daughter that would suit such a family as theirs- And you most definitely fit."
Crawford…. The name was becoming more and more familiar, but the memory, she just couldn't grasp it. It was so close to her, but too far out. Crawford. Crawford. The name played over and over in her mind like a broken record player.
The car reached a sudden halt as all thoughts of "Crawford" left the young girl's mind and Mrs. Witherington stammered, "Sit up properly."
Obediently, Kisara sat up and looked out the window at the orphanage. There was a long, slick, black limousine parked in the curved driveway. The black car she was in looked feeble compared to the larger vehicle. Kisara was in awe of the large automobile, and now truly questioned her new "father."
"Hurry, Miss Crawford. You don't want to keep them waiting." Mrs. Witherington's voice hissed, cold once more.
Kisara nodded as she grabbed her bag and books, and the thought of her old caretaker being possibly bipolar now settling in. Seemed plausible to her. Walking up the curved driveway path, she couldn't get passed the feeling of eyes constantly watching her. Kisara looked around as she made her way inside.
The first thing her eyes caught was the sign "Welcome to Shell Stone Orphanage" and the sign below that with arrow pointing to the left stating "Office down the hall. First door on the Right." The second thing to catch her eye, the kids- whom were too young to go to school- were watching her as she climbed her way up the set of stairs you'd come across by taking five or six steps forward. Her foot caught the edge of the first step, nearly causing her to trip, only to catch herself and reclaim her balance before continuing up the stairway.
Her room had never changed. Forth on the right. She had lived there almost her entire life. She was bound to leave at some point. Turning the knob with her left hand, her right one trying hard not to drop anything she held tightly, she opened the door. Her room had already been slightly torn down. Anything that used to hang on the walls was wrapped up in bubble wrap, if it was clearly breakable, and placed into brown cardboard boxes. The same had been with her other valuables or breakable items. The books she had bought were stacked in a separate box, nearly full. There was just enough room for her text books. To her surprise, even her journal was stacked neatly into the box.
Her sheets, pillows, comforter, and curtains were packed into a box. Her clothes were already packed into another box. Pretty much everything had already been done for her. The only things that hadn't been put away were her plush stuffed animals, a music box she had been given when she was younger, and the paperwork that was left out on her old desk to be signed.
A sigh left her lips as Kisara packed her plush animals with her pillows and such. Sitting at her desk, Kisara filled out any and all information that needed to be done on her paperwork. As for the music box, she played with that for awhile, twisting the key and bringing forth a quite tune of bells that she used to fall asleep to. Toping her tiny little music box was a small cartoon Blue Eyes White Dragon figurine. She had been given the box from a couple friends she had when she was younger. She almost couldn't recall who they were.
After toying with the music box a little while longer, she wrapped the fragile box with bubble wrap, and placed it in her over-the-shoulder book bag. She wouldn't dare mix it up with anything. In it, were perhaps her most prized possessions. She cared more for them than that of someone reading her journal.
It was that important.
A roll of duct tape was brought to her. She tapped up her boxes, and one by one the cardboard boxes left her room. It was so empty. There was only wooden floors, wooden walls, a bed, dresser, and that desk left in there by the time she was finished. She carried the last box herself, which was light since it was just clothes. Her bag remained over her shoulder as she made her way down the stairs once more.
Being the klutz she was, the sight of a man in a suit whom looked like he was in the FBI made her stumble. Kisara found herself tripping down the last two or three steps, she didn't have time to count. Luckily, this suited man had "lightning speed reflexes," and easily caught the girl from the other side of the box. Her blue eyes grazed the sight of his black glasses.
"Care for some help, Miss Crawford?" The shaded man questioned, his hair reminding Kisara of a unicorn, only it was all of his hair that made a horn.
"I-If you insist sir." Kisara stuttered, cheeks lightly flushed with embarrassment.
A smile from the shady man, more so a smirk, and he easily lifted the box from her arms, which now cradled nothing. Kisara fixed her shouldered bag, that slightly fell forward as she stumbled, and regained her balance once more. She dusted off her skirt, no time to change out of her grey and blue uniform, and followed the man who carried her luggage. A bow to the children was exchanged before Kisara closed the door behind her. Before making her way out to that long stretched limousine, Kisara looked up to Mrs. Witherington and stood before her. She rose to her tip toes and fell back to her flat feet.
"I guess this is goodbye, Mrs. Witherington." Kisara held back any form of emotion, whether happy, sad, or angry; she didn't know what to feel at this point.
The hag nodded. "For now, Miss Crawford. Enjoy your new life."
And with that, Kisara made her final bow, and turned, walking to the limousine. Her final box was put into the automobile, and that same shaded man opened the back door for Kisara, awaiting her to be ready.
"Shall we take leave, Miss Crawford?" The unicorn hair, and suited man questioned.
"P-Please, just Kisara." She blushed once more, "And, I'm ready."
Kisara didn't know if he was being warm, or if he was just wanting to get this over with, but trying to be courteous since they had just met. Kisara nodded to the suited unicorn man, and stepped into the limousine, another suited man sitting on the leathery seat. He, too, wore black shady glasses. This man was much older though, and didn't have his hair in a unicorn horn fashion. Slicked back, dark brown hair was this older man's style of choice.
"Oh, p-pardon me sir." Kisara stuttered as she climbed in, the door shut behind her from Mr. Unicorn.
This shaded man chuckled slightly. "You're quite alright Miss Crawford. I'm just here to accompany you while on the ride."
This man had a more calming atmosphere than the last suited man. Yes, Unicorn man. This man had a lighter tone to his voice, and his attitude. Perhaps it was just the age? Kisara surely didn't know.
"If you have any questions, feel free to ask." The man smiled once more, "My name is Jenkins. It's a pleasure to finally meet your acquaintance."
"Jenkins." She repeated to accustom herself to the name, "It's a pleasure on my behalf as well."
Her tired eyes forced themselves awake. Kisara was not one to like flying so much. Sure, she had never been on a jet, let alone a plane, but she did not want to be awake during the flight at all. She slept through the entire flight, as well as much of the drive to the airport. She hadn't heard where they were going, or when they were to arrive, but the intercom had came on with a warning of landing in a few minutes.
Just being awake for that few minutes made her feel sick. Accompanying her was her new butler, Jenkins, and the Unicorn Suited man whose name she couldn't recall. Then again, Kisara couldn't remember him ever mentioning it. Perhaps he'll just remain "Unicorn Suite Man" in her mind. Didn't bother her, but it surely made her want to chuckle at the thought.
"Miss Crawford- Er… Um, Kisara," Jenkins caught himself, "Are you ready to meet Mr. Crawford?"
A smile and blush overwhelmed her, "As ready as I'll ever be."
Kisara had already found herself getting along with Jenkins. He was kind, a father of three, and soon to be a grandfather. He was in his late 50's and was considering retiring soon. He made so much money working for Mr. Crawford, he could have retired in his 30's had he not enjoyed working for him so much. The impression that she got of her new father was a kind gentleman. Obviously, he seemed pretty damn rich. Jets, limousines, and a private island. Kisara was never too fond of rich people, but hell, she was going to be living that life, so why complain?
