Emily's POV

I reached my hand over to the side pocket of my bag, moving around other items that I had thrown in before finally pulling out the small device and tangled headphones. If this is the only way to stop the awkward silence between myself and the cab driver, I sure as hell will take it. After fiddling with the tangled cord for a minute, I finally put on my headphones, relaxing into my seat as the soft music surrounded me. Since there was no headrest I leaned against the cold window in an attempt to be more comfortable which didn't do much but I was tired enough that my eyes began to slowly shut. The music was enough to block out the mumbling of the radio along with the noise outside leaving me to stare in boredom at the chair in front of me.

This is going to be a long four-hour drive.

I hated the silence, although it was nice to not be asked several questions from the driver, it did, unfortunately, mean I would be forced to listen to the thoughts in my head instead. I thought the music would be enough but knowing where I would end up after this long drive only made it worse. It was the reoccurring thoughts that I had grown up with wishing they could be answered, that if only my parents hadn't of given me up, maybe then would my life be somewhat 'perfect'.

Reality is a nasty thing in life, especially living a life like mine as I have realised several times that happy endings don't exist, that a perfect family doesn't exist...that you're in a cab transferring to the next foster home. I will meet a new family, supposedly kind and loving, but I have had enough experiences to see past those fake smiles. They will only compare you amongst other children as if you were nothing but a toy that could be returned. The initial steps will go as planned, all the same in their loving and caring manner until they have had enough and the toy is growing old and too broken to be cared for. They decide you're not good enough and dispose of you as if you were never there in the first place.

It really is some kind of life; unfortunately, it is what mine consists of.

I don't have much of a choice, I don't make the decisions. I only proceed on the path that others set for me. Well, that's what I've learned to do anyway.

I will have to admit, a foster life is hard for someone at the age of sixteen. The chances of a family adopting you are extremely low. Not many families will take in a girl who only has a couple of years until she becomes an adult. Those who do are usually over the age of fifty, divorced, or too old to care. I always remember the carer at the orphanage, the one person I never wanted to leave my side, consistently used to remind me that 'every child belongs to a family whether you were born into it or make it your own'. I believed her when I was younger; I had hope that her words would come true, but as the years passed that belief eventually faded away.

The whole foster system is another thing entirely, a messed up system that no child should ever have to be put into. Every child has a number next to their name to show how many families are interested in adopting them. I was lucky to even have five this year. Then they will pick a day where they sit down and talk to you as if you're a new employee, checking to see if you meet all of their requirements. No matter what age you are, this is the process you are forced to go through. The little kids think it's the best thing to happen to them, they love the attention. However in my case, if I see them looking skeptical even for a second then I'll scold them until they decide to leave. It was cruel to get a kid's hopes up, especially when their lives could change because of it.

The worst part was that if they do show an interest in you they get to take you to their home and trial you out for a week to see if you're comfortable there. No orphan in their right mind would say no to a home, you just don't know when the opportunity would come again. The only problem was that if they're unhappy then they can take you back. I can't even count the number of times I've been back and forth. They may as well ask if this child comes with a receipt. It hurt the first couple of years but I guess it was just something I've gotten used to.

The car jolted over a bump in the road causing my body to slip from my comfortable sitting position and take me out of my thoughts. I have at least four hours in the cab until the diver will kick me out along with my suitcase and drop me off at my new so-called 'home'. I guess I could say that the rides back and forth are the only enjoyment I tend to get out of this. I only talk when spoken to and have my headphones out in my hand before I get in the car so the drivers get a clear idea that I want a peaceful and quiet trip. Even still, four hours of freedom just isn't enough.

But until then my dreams can be a place where anything could happen. Watching sunsets, having friends, learning to fly, or having a perfect family. As stupid as that may sound I haven't experienced any of those things and I don't think I will any time soon. All of these thoughts have made me think of the worst of my thoughts, the ones that would hurt the most.

Why would my parents, the only people in the world that are supposed to care and love me the most, abandon me?

I only just realised how much I was overthinking this when a wet stray tear ran down my face. I quickly wiped it away with my sleeve and took a deep breath. There was no point in crying over this, I've done that in the past and it got me nowhere. I'm not going to be a helpless little girl anymore; I had to be strong, for my own sake. I felt my body slowly adjusting back into its numb position, as I relaxed into the leather seat, soon closing my eyes hoping to sleep my thoughts away.

I lifted my heavy feet, almost dragging them across the wooden floorboards in an attempt to walk up to the mysterious black figure that was floating outside my window and put my curiosity at ease. It was only when my feet hit the large windowsill that I was forced to stop from getting any closer. My tired eyes were persistent in holding a strong gaze with this unknown creature.

I wasn't sure what it was or what it was doing outside my window but as a gust of wind swayed the curtains into the room, I noticed it moved with them, floating in the air was a figure of a man. It was hard to see at first sight, as the figure camouflaged well into the night sky, but now I could see it more clearly, its dark yellow eyes holding me in a captivating trance. It wasn't until I found myself kneeling on the windowsill, hands gripping tightly against its wooden frame in fear as I was only a movement away from falling that I knew the intentions of this creature were ones I should be questioning.

"Who are you?" I asked in a loud firm voice as I managed to pull myself out of its captivating trance.

It seemed rather taken back as I climbed down from the windowsill ensuring there was enough distance between us as I waited for an answer, now careful to now look the black figure directly at its eyes.

"Come with me, Emily."

Its voice had the same captivating and entrancing effect as its eyes, only now did it hold out its hand, fingers reaching out as if I were supposed to take its hand without question.

I furrowed my brows in confusion for its gesture did not surprise me but more the fact that it knew my name.

"I never told you my name."

The figure ignored my suspicion, dismissing it completely as it was not the answer he was seeking to hear.

"Come with me."

It repeated its words again, only now sounding more impatient as it hovered closer almost reaching past the windowsill but hesitant to go any further into the room. It reached out its hand yet again and I stared down at it, swallowing the fear that was slowly building as I saw the windowsill and floorboards through its hands that remained to be a mere outline of its figure.

What was this thing?

Keeping my gaze away from its eyes, I managed to find some sense it myself to move away from the figure before it could grab hold of me. I wasn't going to be taken anywhere by this creature until it answers my question.

"Who are you?" I asked only to make the mistake of staring into those yellow eyes.

Now that I was held in its trance it was stronger as I was unable to look away.

"I know you're not happy here, your foster parents don't love you, they only pretend to. If you come with me, I will take you far away from here where you will be free to do whatever you desire."

The figures words sounded truthful enough to believe despite its appearance. It gave me a moment to look away as I turned around to face my so-called room. It was small enough to almost be a storage cupboard, its plain white walls peeling away at the thin layer of paint. The bed barely had a warm enough blanket to keep warm on the coldest of winter nights, accompanied by the small bedside table that held the lamp that that not worked since I arrived, keeping the room in constant darkness.

Maybe the figure did speak the truth. I was unhappy here, I wanted to be anywhere but here if it could put me out of this misery.

Once I turned to face the figure it was now hovering directly in front of me, past the windowsill and into the room it waited. I was fearful of its unknown nature but I still had the courage to ask,

"You can take me away from here

That was all I ever wanted, to be taken away from this horrible reality.

"You're lost Emily...come with me."

It held out its hand for the last time.

Lost?

I took a deep breath before hesitantly holding onto its hand causing its grip to seal tightly around mine with no intention of letting go or allowing me to change my mind.

"Where are we going?"

"Neverla-"

I lifted my head quickly off the window of the car, my breaths easing as I looked out of the window to see the driver standing at the door, his hand moving away from the window having knocked loudly enough to wake me from my sleep.

"What the hell," I groaned, placing my hand against my forehead that soon began to throb.

I slowly adjusted my neck from the window, regretting my choice to fall asleep on such an angle. I rubbed the side of my neck soothingly from the whiplash and forming headache, that was until I heard other several impatient knocks against my window that I realised I was keeping the driver waiting. I was quick to curl my headphones into a twisted mess even though I knew it would take me an hour to untangle them and yank at them in frustration when that time comes but now they went straight back into the side pocket of my bag. I stumbled out of the car forgetting that I had been sitting down for so long and turned to the diver with a small smile as I fought against the surge of pins and needles that were attacking my legs.

"Sorry. Thank you for the ride," I apologised to the driver as I handed him the given money supplied by the foster system.

"That's alright, have a good day ma'am."

He passed me my suitcase he had retrieved before passing to me. I watched as he gave me a kind smile before getting back in the car before driving off down the long street. Turning my attention to what I presumed to be my new foster home as it looked exactly as it did in the photo I was shown before I left. I was rather impressed at the two-story house as it looked a lot bigger than it had in the photo, perhaps that was only because I was so used to a small room. As I walked closer I acknowledged the dark brown brick and white windowsills that showed only slight shadows of inside the house. I pulled my suitcase to the door, adjusting my bag on my shoulder before staring straight at the handle. It had been almost a minute now and I began to wonder why I hadn't knocked yet.

Was I nervous?

Definitely not.

Given the number of times I've done this, there was not much to be nervous about anymore.

I felt my eyes slowly closing again and I blinked my blurred vision away. I definitely wasn't a morning person. Checking my watch I looked down with confusion as it read exactly three o'clock. Okay, then I definitely wasn't an afternoon person? I guess that's what happens when you sleep the whole ride.

I took a breath and lightly knocked on the door. I heard some ruffling noises from behind the door as a number of footsteps grew louder until they reached a stop from the other side. There were a couple of whispers I could hear through the wooden frame that was tempting enough to put my ear to the door to hear what they were saying but it was a good thing I hadn't as not a moment later it finally swung open revealing what seemed to be the entire family. The stood almost too forcibly presentable as if they were posing for a family photo expecting me to capture the special moment. A mother and father well in their thirties stood behind their two sons who seemed around my age.

Why two boys?

"Hello, you must be Emily Walker?" She spoke through a bright smile.

It sounded more like a question than a statement.

Great, well...first impressions count, don't they?

I tried my best to smile politely

"Yes, that's me. It's nice to meet you-"

"Sarah," She finished for me, "And this is my husband, Mike"

Mike waved to me with a small smile clearly awkward and forced into this greeting by his wife.

"These are our sons Oliver and Connor."

I smiled and waved politely, but I noticed the brown-haired boy Connor staring at me for longer than necessary until I noticed a smirk curling at his lips. I ignored the uneasy feeling that sunk my stomach and turned back to the adults.

"It's nice to meet you all," I replied sweetly, hoping I made a good enough impression that they wouldn't doubt their choice of letting me stay. Thankfully Sarah put my mind at ease.

"Well aren't you a nice girl," She smiled fondly as she stood before me and passed my suitcase to her son with the blonde hair who I remembered his name to be Oliver.

"Thank you, ma'am," I smiled at her politeness and strangely high enthusiasm that was rather amusing.

"Oh please, call me mother or Sarah!" She insisted.

Sarah, it is.

I didn't have the courage to call any of my adoptive guardians mother, it never seemed right.

"Now Oliver, if you could kindly show Emily to her new room please, I'm sure she had a long and tiring drive here," Sarah instructed her son.

He gave a quick nod before they all moved away from the door so I could walk into the house. I was hesitant but soon made my way inside the house, my eyes instantly trailing the light sky-blue painted walls down the hallway which cut into other separate rooms on either side as far as I could see. The walls were displayed with picture frames, along with small bookshelves and other pieces that I could tell had been purposely displayed out of courtesy of my arrival. It surprised me, to say the least, I wasn't expecting them to actually put in the effort, but then again, they were the youngest of families that have chosen to take in an orphan, especially since they already have two children of their own. I stood just before the oak wooden staircase my fingers gripping tightly around the worn-out fabric strap of my old duffel bag as Sarah turned to me.

"We'll be in the kitchen if you need anything," Sarah informed with a smile.

I nodded trying my best again at faking a smile that I have managed to perfect over the years. She seemed to take no recognition of it which I was thankful for as she turned to begin walking down the hall, Mike soon following behind, his uncomfortable stance finally breaking as he followed his wife.

"Sorry about that, they can be a bit full-on sometimes...well, most times actually," Oliver said with a light chuckle while rubbing his neck awkwardly.

I followed his gaze down the hall to what I could only see as part of a dining table where his parents were now seated at discussing the paper documents that they brought from the foster house.

I shook my head, "Don't apologise, they're very kind," I replied at ease at the boy's presence.

Oliver seemed different from other members of his family. He sounded more relaxed, easy to talk to and most unexpected of all...understanding. He didn't have that pitiful look I saw in everyone else, as if they were trying to make me feel better because they see me as some kind of victim that they should feel sorry for. He didn't seem like that at all, it was actually kind of nice.

"God, I'm getting out of here before you embarrass yourself," Connor spat to his brother, no sign of remorse in his voice.

My attention instantly turned to the boy with dark brown hair. I glared at him but he didn't seem at all phased by my reaction, he didn't seem to care for his rudeness towards his own brother. Oliver didn't say anything, he kept his head up but his eyes remained staring at the floor. I curled my nails into the strap of my bag as I watched Connor kick his foot back against the door behind him to what I presume is his room before unlocking his arms and moving off the door-frame.

"I'll be in here if you need anything at all," Connor grinned as he gave me a longing glance before closing his door behind him.

I couldn't believe the arrogance he clearly wasn't ashamed of.

"Sorry about Connor," Oliver said, disregarding the words of his brother as if he had dealt with this a number of times, "He can be a bit of an ass sometimes," Oliver looked over towards Connors bedroom door and I could see his eyes narrow.

"Quite an egotistical ass I would say," I mumbled loud enough for only Oliver to hear.

Oliver's lips perked into an amused grin before he was forced to laugh.

"Oh, that's an understatement."

He picked up my suitcase and turned to the staircase, "Come on I'm sure you've had a long trip, I'll show you to your room." He smiled warmly.

I was about to protest but he was already making his way up the stairs. I followed behind shortly until I had reached the next floor before walking with Oliver down the hallway which was much simpler than the one downstairs, only holding three doors on each side. Oliver stopped at the door on the left at the end of the hall, opening the round handle before moving aside for me to see. I stood at the door, my eyes flickering around the room noticing the single bed beside the right wall, a large window draped with patterned blue curtains that sat above a white desk on the opposite wall. There were empty shelves to put things on and an empty wardrobe that was waiting to be filled with the bare minimum of clothes I brought with me. It was a total upgrade from anything I had ever seen in a foster home. It was simply perfect.

"Oh no," Oliver sighed

I turned to him in confusion as us uneasy smile set on his face.

"I begged Sarah to change it to a less drastic colour but she insisted on choosing the brightest pink she could find," Oliver said addressing the bright pink covers of the single bed.

"It's alright, I don't mind," I assured him but he seemed to see through me.

"I promise I'll get Sarah to buy you the colour of your choice once you've settled in," Oliver confirmed causing a smile to unknowing form through my lips, not forced, but a genuine smile.

I did wonder why Oliver addressed his mother as 'Sarah'. Perhaps it was just something he did he was saying it to make me feel more comfortable. Whatever the reason was, it was none of my business. Oliver was being so kind to me, I didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable, especially since we had just met.

"I've taken up enough of your time, I'll let you unpack," Oliver said handing me my suitcase, "My room is one down to the right and across your room is the bathroom." He said kindly.

"Thank you," I said quietly, never really being good at thanking people when they did show me kindness.

Oliver nodded, giving a quick last smile before he left the room.

I pulled my suitcase into my room, placing it by the wall before walking over to the bed and sat down on the soft mattress, my hands sitting into the bright pink covers that were much warmer than the old covers I was used to. I instantly lay collapsed onto my back not knowing I had been so tired until now. Staring up at the ceiling light that was illuminating the room, I wondered something I hadn't thought in a long time.

Was this it?

Was this my one shot at getting my life back together again?

First chapter!

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