Wow! I'm amazed by how many people have read the first chapter. Thank you all for reading. I'd also like to thank KazeNoSasayaki2494 for reviewing.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything! I don't even own the clothes that I'm wearing right now! (I stole them from my sister's closet. Shhh! Don't tell her!)
Iris
Chapter 2: What's in a name?
It's the strangest thing to see everything that you've ever known go up in flames. By the time that I was able to watch the incineration of my life, the fire had already completely engulfed the small house and firefighters were working diligently to extinguish it and prevent it from spreading. I felt empty as I witnessed all of this.
Soon, a police officer came and carried me to his car. He said that he was going to take me to a group home, until they could figure out where I belonged. On the ride there, he tried to talk to me like the people in white did, but I remained silent. Why try to answer questions that I didn't know the answers to?
The group home was like nothing I was use to. It was cleaner and louder than my house. There were children everywhere, more than I could count. Their ages varied greatly, but most of them were older than me. They all stared at me when I came in. You could practically hear their thoughts, 'fresh meat'. All the walls were painted a pale green color and they gave off an eerie glow as the bright lights glared on them. There never seemed to be a completely dark room.
When I arrived, the first thing they did was get me cleaned up properly. I was bathed head to toe. The lady that helped me ended up having to cut off most of my thick, waist-length hair. It was too ratted and tangled to comb through. I was then given my first new clothes. All they had for me were a grey sweats outfit and a pair of sandals, but I liked them. They were comfortable and better fitted to me than the over-sized t-shirt that I had worn for years.
As I gazed into the bathroom mirror, a completely different person stared back at me. Gone was the mass of tangled, dark brown hair to be replaced by neat, straight locks that were two inches long. The dirty face was transformed into a clean pale one. The new grey sweats seemed to add to this fresh image. For the first time in my life, I looked like an actual child, instead of the shadow of what should be a child. I felt like Cinderella must have when her fairy god-mother transformed her from a poor servant into a princess.
The lady then led me to large room full of sleeping children. There was an empty bed in the corner made for me. After she tucked me in under the covers, she left the room. It was only a moment until she returned with a white stuffed bunny in her hands. Her smile was bright as she gave it to me.
"I picked him out especially for you. See, his eyes match yours," she said after giving him to me. Indeed, he had light blue button eyes that were the same shade as mine. "You can name him whatever you want. He is yours to keep." How could I name something, when I didn't even have a name? I pondered this a while before finally falling asleep.
The next morning, I was given a quick breakfast before being taken to see one of the counselors. This woman was older and plumper than the one who had taken care of me last night, but she was just as kind. She sat behind a large desk, while I was situated in a comfortable chair holding my new unnamed friend. After introducing herself, she started off the meeting by telling me several things that I hadn't known. My mother had perished in the fire that had destroyed the house. I was saved from the inferno by a neighbor who had broken through my bedroom window to try and save my mother, only to find me on the floor unconscious. He had carried me to safety and went back in for my mother. Sadly, he was too late.
She also informed me that my mother's name was Mary Linton. My mother had no close living relatives and my father was a mystery. So, there was no family to take me in. As I sat there listening to her, I kept waiting for the subject of my name to pop up, but the next piece of information threw me for a loop. There was no record of my existence. Apparently, my mother had given birth to me at home; she hid her condition from everyone and hadn't visited a doctor during or after her pregnancy. So, officially I did not exist.
As she continued talking about what would probably happen to me, I stared outside. Several feet away from the window was a bed full of flowers. I was entranced by one beautiful blue flower. Its petals were large and bright and arranged in a way that I'd never seen before. There seemed to be several different colors of the same type flower in the bed, but that one caught my eye. It was the only blue one in the bed.
The woman soon realized that I wasn't listening. Following my line of vision, she soon figured out what had caught my attention. "It's such a beautiful spring day. I often find myself staring out at the flowers on days like this. Which one is your favorite?" Her voice snapped me out of my daze. I quickly pointed to the flower I'd been staring at. "That's an iris. They're so beautiful this time of year and they come in almost any color you could imagine. I sometimes wish I had a garden full of them. It'd be like growing your own rainbow." I had to admit that this idea was very enchanting. I suddenly wished that I could plant my own rainbow.
The conversation then turned back to my situation. Based on the examinations of the doctor and paramedics and several interviews with neighbors, they estimated that I was born a few days after Christmas five years ago. A young social worker came in with a pile of paperwork that needed to be filled out. After that was completed, I would be able to move into another group home or a permanent foster home.
The first thing the documents asked for was a name. It's weird how I had never really noticed before that everyone and everything had a name, except me. I knew the social worker didn't expect me to answer any questions. After all, I hadn't spoken a word the entire time and everyone was probably wondering whether or not I was able to speak. As he looked back down at the paper and was about to write down something, probably along the lines of Jane Doe, I finally let my voice be heard for the first time. "Iris," was all I said. The social worker looked at me questioningly. "My name is Iris," I added. When I saw him nod and write down what I had just told him, I felt a strange warmth spread from my heart. 'Is this what it feels like to be alive?'
Well, there's the second chapter for you. I hoped you enjoyed it. Please, R&R.