A/N: Hi people, here's the next chaper, finally, and I hope you'll find it more interesting than the last:) Enjoy, and don't forget to review, 'cause it'll be much appreciated!

Chapter Four

I smoothed my skirt and patted my hair, while I sat waiting nervously for my grandparents to come out from the other room. After I had gotten off the phone with Officer White, it wasn't long before the car sent for me arrived. Sitting here now, I finally had time to recollect everything that had just happened in the last hour. Everything had been done in such a rush; I hadn't had time to think about anything and everything yet. But what was I supposed to think? These people, my grandparents, wanted me to live with them, permanently. But why? I had never even met them before. I didn't even know what they looked like. Besides, why now? If they had really ever cared, why didn't they try contacting us before? There must have been a way, surely. I didn't know what I was going to say to them. Did I really want to live with them? They were strangers to me. Even stranger as they had kicked my mother out, and left her to fend her herself, and me. How would they treat me? My mother had hardly ever spoken about them before, and if she had, it was never kindly. Her eyes would turn hard and cold, her face tense and unemotional. I had always wanted to ask her more about these grandparents, but if I ever did, she would always change the subject and shut me out. It never failed to put her in a bad mood, and so growing up, I learnt not to ask. I sighed out loud. Even though I was deathly tired and had the worst headache, I still had sense enough to know I had no choice but to go live with them. Because if I didn't then what would happen to me? I would get turned over to the state. Become just another file, another statistic. I would be put in an orphanage. And then what would happen to me? I was fifteen, no one was going to adopted me, they'd want a baby, or a small child, who had never really belonged to anyone else before. A child who had no memory of their past. But I did. Oh, how I had memories of the past. I would never truly belong to anyone else. If I were put in an orphanage, it was doubtless I would stay there until I was eighteen, and even after that I probably still wouldn't know what to do with myself. Frankly, I didn't want to be adopted. I didn't want some other people pretending to be my parents. I didn't want a new mother. I wanted my mother. Oh how badly did I want her back. It was not yet even twenty-four hours yet and I was missing her so badly, it hurt in every part of my body. Tears welled up in my eyes. Poor me, I thought to myself. Before I could think of any more self pitying thoughts, the door on which I had my eyes glued on the whole time opened. Right, this was it. For the first time in my life, I was going to meet my grandparents, people who wanted to take me in and call me their own at the worst moments of my life. People who I had every right to resent after what they had done to my mother. My first reaction upon seeing them was surprise. In my mind's eye, I had built up the image of two large and solid intimidating people. I thought the expressions on their faces would be heartless and cold. But instead, that was not the image that confronted me at all. In fact, it was the exact opposite. Before me stood any ordinary elderly looking couple. Not frail, but certainly not strong either. I could see where my mother, and myself also, got her looks from. Because my grandmother looks just like us. We had the same features and all. The same dark hair, (no, it wasn't grey at all) and blue eyes. But most surprisingly of all, was she had that same soft dreamy smile which my mother and I had often worn. How odd, I thought to myself. My mother had always made out that these people were the epitome of all evil, but to me, they didn't look evil at all. My grandfather was taller, and stood behind my grandmother, with his hand on her shoulder. He smiled at me encouragingly. It made the corners of his hazel eyes crinkle to do so. His plentiful head of hair was streaked a wonderful silvery-grey on fading blonde. While they stood there smiling at me, obviously wanting me to come forwards to them, or at least say something, I just stood there staring numbly at them. Well, what would you have done? It was my grandmother who spoke first. Her voice was still strong.

"Elliot, we are so pleased to meet you, at last," were her first words to me.

I stood there, still unable to say anything in response. I was in such shock, such a state of surprise; I couldn't seem to move any part of my body at all. Her smile faltered for a split second, but it was so fast recovered from, I wasn't sure if I had seen something hard pass through her eyes or not. It was my grandfather's turn to speak now.

"We understand Elliot, that you've suffered quite a loss, and aren't feeling very talkative right now, but we know you'll get over that, but know that we are here, you won't have to worry about anything at all."

There was something strange about what he had just said, but I couldn't figure it out at this moment.

"Now Elliot," my grandfather continued. "Since this is our first meeting, we thought we should introduce yourselves to you. My name, of course, is Jonah Kennedy, and your grandmother here is Viola."

"Kennedy?" I repeated confused. I was able to speak at last from this piece of information, which had snapped me out of my silence. "I thought your, our, last name was Miller?" My grandparents glanced at each other quickly.

"I'm sorry Elliot," my grandmother said. "You must be mistaken. Our family name is Kennedy, and has been for hundreds of years. I'm sure you'll quickly find out what an honour and privilege it is to hold that name." she smiled patronisingly at me. "You see Elliot; your real name is Kennedy. I don't know what she told you, but Kennedy is my name, was her name, and it is yours too."

Looking at my grandparents now, I could see how false my first impression of them had turned out to be. I had the feeling that there might be hope for me yet. How wrong was I, because looking at them now, they were starting to look a lot like that menacing image I had built up in my head.