Chapter 2: If you can't see the bright side of life, polish the dull side.
Gretchen turns off the engine and opens the door.
Reluctantly I unclip my seatbelt before reaching for my duffle bag that was resting beside me. Before I could even touch it a meaty hand came out of nowhere and snatched it. I look up in surprise. The top half of Gretchen's body was leaning in through the opposite car door.
"Just get out of the car," she sneers with a deep sigh.
I narrow my eyes at her but did as I was told.
I hold Mimzy close to me as I wait for Gretchen to walk around the side of the car. Swallowing loudly, I stare at the building through the gates. It looks as bad or perhaps even worse than the houses I'd seen on the way here.
Weeds, dead plants and some roof tiles were scattered on the yellow grass. Grey bricks dominated the walls, there were only a few windows, and some were even barred up. A dirty looking pathway leads to the front porch of the building.
"Come on," Gretchen grumbles, starting to walk through the gates and up the cobble-stoned path, not checking to see if I was following her or not.
I thought better than to run off. Where else would I go? My parents had died, my grandparents had passed away a few years ago, my aunt traveled around the globe and my uncle was too busy and couldn't look after a child.
With a heavy heart I slowly trudge after the woman.
She had already reached the porch and rung the doorbell.
"Here," she grunts and drops my duffle bag to the ground at my feet.
"Stupid, fat woman," I mumble under my breath.
As I bend down to pick up my bag, the front door harshly opens.
Still bent over, all I see was a pair of old black leathered shoes.
Stiffly, I straighten myself back up with my bag in hand.
Standing in the doorway was a youngish man, but he looked much older than my dad though. He wore a grubby, stained suit on which had no tie. He was also overweight and smelt of body odor and alcohol which made my nose wrinkle.
I was almost too scared to look at his face.
But the temptation was too great.
I suddenly wished I hadn't.
His eyes were brown and bloodshot. A mop of black hair rested on his head, looking like it hadn't been washed in weeks. His face held a few wrinkles and I could even see sweat dripping down from his hair onto his forehead.
He gave a twisted smile at Gretchen, showing his crooked brown and yellow teeth.
She giggled in reply.
And I think I threw up a little.
"Ah, so 'ere's the little monster," he says gruffly, his eyes penetrating me and voice layered distain.
"Yes, here she is Carl," Gretchen replies, her voice also dripping with the same disgust.
I try to put on a brave façade, but on the inside I was cowering in fear.
"Come on in then, let's get this over with," he grumbles.
He turns around and walks into the building.
I delay to follow him.
I hear a huff from beside me and then I felt something or someone push me forward through the door.
I trip over a crack in the floorboards and go sprawling. I land on my hands and knees with a thump. Pain spikes through the palm of my left hand. I turn it over, revealing a splinter deeply lodged inside.
I carefully begin to take it out, gritting my teeth.
"Oh, get up," Gretchen says, frustrated.
She walks around me and follows Carl into the room ahead unaware that I'm glaring daggers into her back.
I get to my feet, pick up my rabbit and bag and trail after them.
As I walk into the room Carl and Gretchen both disappeared into, I saw Carl sitting at a desk and Gretchen strolling over to a chair in front of him.
The office was old and looked as if a tornado had just passed through it.
Papers and documents littered the desk and the floor. A half eaten sandwich was sitting on top on a filing cabinet, looking months old. The walls were a cigarette stained yellow colour, and there was no plant life or pictures inside the room.
'Very welcoming….'
"Hurry up. Time is money and I am a very busy man," Carl snaps at me.
I hurry over to the remaining chair next to Gretchen.
Once I was seated, Carl searches blindly for a pen on his desk before grabbing a random form from a scattered pile.
He scans it quickly with his beady eyes then looks up directly at me.
"Name?" he asked.
"B-Isabella Swan," I reply, trying not to stutter too much.
"Date of Birth?" he yawns.
"Um, 13th S-September, 1987" I gulp, trying to swallow my nerves.
"So you're thirteen correct?" he asks after a couple of minute's calculation.
I nod.
"Why are you 'ere?"
"Her parents died in a car crash," Gretchen supplies for me in a monotone voice.
How could she say that so casually?
I fume with anger.
If I could kill people with my mind she would be six feet under.
Carl nods unaffected and scribbles something down.
Several minutes later, Carl finishes signing the form and looks at Gretchen.
"Could you take her to room sixty-eight, please doll," he says in what he believes to be a seductive voice.
Apparently though, it had worked.
Gretchen shot up off her seat with a smile wide smile. I roll my eyes at her ridiculous and rather gross behavior.
She roughly grabs my hand, pulling me out of the room and drags me down a hallway.
After a while of trying to keep up with her long strides and the twists and turns, she stops at a door almost making me fall into her.
"Here we are," she chirps.
I pull my hand out of hers and wipe it on my hoodie, cleaning it of her sweat.
"Stay here and be a good little girl for Mr. Carl," she said in a sickly sweet voice. "Don't give him any trouble," she finished coldly.
With that, I watch with a look of disgust as she practically ran back down the way we had come, most likely eager to seek out Carl again.
I look around the hallway when she disappears from sight.
I can't hear any other children laughing, playing or anything. Am I the only one here?
'I could be stuck here for my whole life.'
Tears gather in my eyes as that thought pops into my head.
I take a deep breath and face the wooden door with the number '68' painted clumsily on the door.
I reach out and turn the knob.
My fate has been sealed and there's no going back.
