falling, a PRH novel

disclaimer: tears would have been shed, wars would have been fought, people would have killed, just to own Artemis Fowl

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chapter 2

Dawn

My mouth dropped open. I have not anticipated, never expected to be adopted. I had never imagined to be loved or papered or to belong, nor did I ever yearned to be. I gapped at the Irish millionaire as if he just said an awful joke. Which reminded me, my whole life was an awful joke. He must be telling the truth. I fainted at this revelation.

I opened my eyes, expecting sunlight from the window of my room to blind me, waking me from the dream. To my surprise, what I found was darkness. I took a minute to observe my bearings. The room, if it was a room, was dimly lit. It resembled a grand suite from hotels that I see on TV. The type where modern-looking ottomans flooded the room and everything was white and metal. Paintings of cottages and nature adorned the pale walls. The biggest portrait portrayed a family. A woman with kind eyes and the irish businessman was there. The woman was craddling two identical twins and the father had one of his hands on the shoulder of a younger version of him, except for one eye. I traced the place I was sitting. It was smooth, and velvetty. I felt like I was sitting on clouds. I down and found myself wearing an expensive-looking dress. It had laces and frills, the type I would never be caught wearing even if I had the money to buy it, or the freedom to go out and buy it. It replaced my too-big shirt that acted as a dress for me. Then, slowly, I reached out to my hair, dreading the results. I was right to be terrified. My hair was pulled up in a neat braid, finished up with a bow. It was washed and combed, and most importantly, scented. I shivered. This had to be a nightmare.

I stood up and quickly ran for the nearest window, as it was the nearest place of refuge I can get from all this luxury I dreaded so much. I froze in place, a shiver stayed in the button of my spine and my eyes were wide with fear. Outside was the sky, endless voids of blue and clouds. I was trapped in this nightmare of grand paintings and frilly ottomans.

"Good Morning. I see your awake, We didn't get the chance to introduce ourselves since you, ah, passed out before we could socialize." I froze, feeling numb around my fingers. What kind of person would use the word socialize and good morning in the same sentence? The kind that swam in pennies and used bills for tissue. I knew this guy was the one from the orphanage. Crap. I did not speak nor response. There was a long pause until he breathed out a long sigh.

"Claudette-" I taked in a sharp breath. This man knew my name. He paused at the sound I made, waiting if I would respond. After a few minutes, he dropped it and continued his sake-of-humanity speech. "Claudette, dear, please don't make it hard for me. Wait. Forget me. Just don't ignore your new mother when we get to the airport. Please, would you tell me what's clogging your mind"

New Mother. What the hell is going on? He said passed out. I closed my eyes as I proccessed the last of my fading memories before I passed out. He said something about me being a Fowl. He's gonna turn me into a chicken? Is that it? I wanted answer. So I decided to get answers by asking quesetions.

"What the hell is going on? You said I passed out. The last thing I remembered you said that I was going to be a fowl. Are you turning me into a chicken? And what time is it?" I pretty much telling him what's clogging up my mind. He chuckled once, then when I thought this was going to be difficult. He answered my train of questions.

"Its dawn, darling. I just adopted you from a Philippine orphanage. We're going to Ireland now, to meet your new family and live there. You passed out, love, after I told you you we're going to be part of a family. Not a chicken family. But the Fowl Clan, but my son likes the term empire more." He smiled sincerely, as if explaining to a two-year-old. I liked the way he spoke, because he was crooning me, making me believe and trust him. And it was working, which also was the bad thing. All questions answered, I turned around. This man deserved to see the angelic side of me, before I unleash my true inner demon of a kid.

"Hi, my name is Claudette, tito. I am 16 years old po. Thank you for adopting me and for the many thing you have already done for me." I showed him my innocent look, and he immediately snapped out into his irritated mood.

"Hey Claudette. I heard tito was a Filipino term for uncle, you can call me dad. Welcome to the family. I hope you like the Lear Jet, cuse were going to travel in it alot." He said, all daddy-ish now."I have to go fix some papers. Make yourself at home." He left and I considered spreading mud all over the Plasma TV at the wall, but sleep got better of me.

My eyes closed, the light of dawn haunting my dream.

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A?N: Tito is self explanatory, Artemis Sr. explained that. Po is a term used by Filipino children to show respect.

R&R