CHAPTER TWO – Eight Years Later
I let out a sigh, glancing out of my new bedroom window at the endless traffic that never ceased, day or night. They do say that New York is the city that never sleeps.
Great, another foster home. Another foster family. Another neighbourhood with asshole teenagers to overcome. Another lot of people to get my I-really-couldn't-give-a-fondue-covered-fuck attitude across to. Another place to "try" and fit in.
Well, that last one is actually from my social worker. We have very different opinions. She thinks that my "rebellious attitude" is just a stage that I will grow out of since I've only resulted to acting this way I the past year and a bit. All these news experiences and places that she moves me to and from are just the "stepping stones" to finding the "real me".
Pfft. She really does go on about a lot of shit.
She has her mind made up that I can be changed. She honestly gives me way too much credit. I can't, nor do I want to, change. The foster system is a place where you grow up fast, or you don't make it out alive.
Social workers think they know where they're putting us, but really, they're just blinded by the perfect image somewhere will create. They don't see the sly smirks, or the rude gestures, or insulting comments made about us as soon as we walk through the door. Some of us get it worse then others. I can't speak for anyone other than myself, but it took me a while (6 and a half years to be exact) to get out. To change. To at least hide the emotions inside and act like nothing can affect us.
My "rebellious attitude" origin actually goes all the way back to the night I lost my parents and brother, 8 years ago. That's where I first reckon the seed was buried, it just took some time for it to grow.
Well, technically one of my brothers, Mathew, is still alive and out there somewhere in the foster system, but America is so big he could honestly be in LA right now. That's right on the other side of the country from where I've been re-homed in. But until I turn 18, no one is giving me anything about him or his whereabouts.
That night onwards has been literal hell – thank you foster system. Like I said, up until about a year and a half ago, I was always considered to be the victim. I still have the scars, inside and out, to prove it. I try to suppress the memories, but for the most, I can only stop the nightmare for a few days at a time.
I realized, though, I had to change myself. Or at least act like it.
From my physical appearance I look like a "sweet little thing". Golden blonde curls that fall mid-way down my back; stormy grey eyes (inherited from my mother). I'm honest, nonchalant, obnoxious, and give no fucks about much pretty much everything. I act like a snobby, rebellious, independent girl to everyone wherever I go.
Maybe I should consider acting as a profession one day.
I'm pretty positive that I would have turned out like an angel child if that night 8 years ago hadn't happened; always scoring highest in exams, getting the tops marks for every assignment, even doing extra credit assessments.
But it did because life is a bitch. Anyone who says otherwise is just kidding themselves and should stick their head above the fence and actually open their eyes. Now, I just really don't care about school grades or anything. I found that if you actually care about something or someone, life finds a way of fucking it up and taking it from you.
To stop caring is easier than rebuilding yourself. Rebuilding yourself takes time. It also takes something to put trust in. Or someone to become your rock. And once that happens…well, as I've stated, life is the biggest bitch of them all. It'll get you when you're at your best.
Welcome to my life, ladies and gentlemen. The life of the orphan Annabeth Chase.
You know, that sounds like a stage name or something. A sad story about some teenage rebel from the foster system, hiding her true feelings and deceiving the world into thinking that she is all fine and dandy, just going through a "rough patch".
Yeah, sounds about right. My life in a freaking nutshell.
Right, so, ah, Hi readers.
First: thank you so, so much for reading. I forgot to mention that on Chapter One because I wasn't actually sure on how to use this place.
I don't know if you can tell, but this is my first FanFic ever. I'm more of a writer who creates their own work, storyline, characters excetra excetra. So, if you do happen to review this, please go easy on it. Like, say what you think, just don't totally say stuff to shut me down or whatever. I'm pretty strong but my writing is a touchy spot.
Anyway, Thank you all if you are reading and I already love you!
And thank you to dakota845, trio-of-friends and xxWiseOwlxx for already putting me in their alerts!
Again, THANK YOU!
- EscapingToTheBooks, or, AKA Cassie.