Tris

I sit in a wheel chair beside the bed scowling, a face I've obtained in my 2 weeks here. The doctor comes in with a clipboard and pen.

"How are we Beatrice," She asks.

I wrinkle my nose at the name. I know I was never exactly a goody-two-shoes before, but I over heard the doctors talking about my newly found bad attitude and behaviour.

"It's Tris," I huff.

"Sorry Ms Tris," She apologises," Anyway, I'd like to tell you that, well, regarding the current situation, we'll have to put you in a children's home"

I stare at her in disbelief," No way in hell am I going into a kids home,"

"Language please Beatrice,"

"It's Tris!" I yell frustrated.

"Please calm down," She says," It's the only other option.

I slump in my wheel chair, glaring at her, challenging each other to look away first.

She eventually looks back down onto her clipboard," What do you suggest then?"

"Dump me on the streets for all I care!" I scream shoving the clipboard into her piggy face.

Furious, I wheel out of the open door.

"Hey!" The doctor says," Please come back Beatrice,"

I wheel myself faster," And for the last time, it's TRIS!"

Next Day

I pick up the clothes on the edge of my cot. Finally. I get to change out of the horrible, itchy hospital gowns.

A light blue denim vest, a pink tank top, a pair of cotton, grey shorts,under clothes and a pair of pink Doc Martins- even if I can only wear one.I struggle to put them on, but I refused to let the nurses help.

I part my mid-length hair to the side and place it in a low braid trailing down my back.

I finish up with breakfast, and slowly wheel myself to the parking lot. I really don't want to go.

I stare longingly out of the window, willing the water in my eye not to drop. This is all my fault. If I hadn't of wanted them to go to my guitar show, they wouldn't have been in the car. I never thought the second best thing in the world could take awaythe
first. Like they were competing against each other. That's just how thing worked in my brain. I wish it didn't.

We stop in a driveway outside a red bricked house. I look warily at it, squinting because of the bright sun.

My social worker (Jenson) opens the car door and lifts me into my wheel chair.

"You okay Tris?" He asks.

I nod my head in response. I only met him a day ago and I'm already more comfortable with him than any of the nurses. I wheel myself as best I can on the gravel.

We get to the entrance and Jenson has to lift me to get me onto the step. He rings the doorbell, and we wait a couple seconds before the door swings wide open

I blink shocked at the swift movement. There's a girl, about my age, with short brown hair and tanned skin.

"Inesa!" She shouts," The new girl's here!"

Great.

Not two minutes and I'm already being referred to as the new girl.

This is just my luck.

Hope you enjoyed!

S:

agilina1

I need suggestions for my Instructors Four and Six story. :)

~MusicBooksAndPassion X