A.N. Hey! I really don't know what to say here so, On With The Show!
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Alex yawned as she trudged down the narrow, rickety, stairs. She hadn't gotten much sleep that night. She hadn't had a good night sleep for what seemed like years. Every night now it seemed, there were fights. Screams, gun shots, and other such noises could be heard to all hours of the night. So often in fact that most people had gotten used to it. These sounds were now regular night time occurrences. Many times the police could find no explanation as to how the person had died.
She picked up a tray and got in the food line. The children in front of her immediately grouped closer together and away from her. It didn't matter. She was use to this kind of treatment. No one wanted to be near her and while this proved very lonely she had one solace, which was she got her own room. She'd lived in a dorm with about 10 other girls until she was six or so, but then one day when Veronica was teasing her about her hair, one of the beds seemingly of its own accord had smashed into the older girl and broken her leg. Of course Alex was blamed. She was always blamed when anything odd happened even though it was often obvious that she couldn't have had anything to do with them. She couldn't explain it but odd things just seemed to happen when she was around. It didn't matter that she was nowhere near the bed in question or that even if she was she probably couldn't have moved the bed fast enough to do any serious damage. It was always this way. The other girls didn't need any reason to place the blame on her. Why? Because she was the outcast. She wasn't cool. She was below them. That's what they said. That's what they thought. That's what they believed and nothing she ever did would change that.
She sat down at her usual spot at the end of the table. After doing her best to eat the clay like porridge she took her tray towards the kitchen. When she picked up her bowl to put it in the sink and to her great surprise underneath it was a letter. She stared at in wonder and then froze when she read the address. In loopy, green, script were the words
To: Miss Alexandria Johnson
The smallest room on the Second Floor
Coldstone Orphanage #13 Derby Way
Essex, England
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