I sat on the floor, my back against the wall, looking at the newer photo of me and my sister and brothers, just looking at it. Me and Sophie, with our dark, long hair and brown eyes, looking almost exactly the same. Luce and Aaron, with short, spiky dark hair, but with the same brown eyes as me and Sophie.

I looked up and pressed the photo to my chest when someone opened the door to my room without knocking.

"It´s lunch now." Jody said.

"Jody, you´re supposed to knock before you come into someone else´s room."

"Sorry, what is that?" She pointed to my photo.

"Nothing."

"Well whatever it is there´s something written on the back." I turned it, and there actually was something written there.

If you hate me for what I did, then remember what we always used to say.

I turned it again, and looked up at Jody.

"I´ll be in the kitchen in a minute, could you go out of my room, and close the door after you?"

"Yeah." Jody did as she was told I stood up, hid the photos under my pillow and looked around at the walls. I had been thinking about not doing anything at all with it, but I´d gotten such a good idea.

"Mike?" I said when I got down to the kitchen.

"Yeah."

""I think I´ve decided how to paint my room."

"Okay. Do you want to go to the store after lunch then?"

"Yes."

Three hours later

"So, I´ve mixed the black and the white paint, to the right grey. That wall, I pointed behind me, is gonna be in that colour, I pointed to the wall behind me. "Is gonna be that colour," I pointed to a bucket I had mixed white and black to dark grey in. "That wall," I pointed to the wall ahead of me, "is gonna be white, the rest I´m gonna fix myself."

"What… but…"

"Just trust me Mike."

"Okay." We started painting.

And then we started, when the two one- colored wall, then I almost kicked the others out of the room, and started with the other walls. For almost one week, I didn´t let anyone come into my room. I painted, then I had to stop painting and do another wall. Until the color had dried. I used a lead pencil, to do the patterns, filled it with black paint, when the lighter painted underneath had dried, so it wouldn´t turn grey. Melanie left the dumping ground during the time I was still in my room all the time, they didn´t have a new trainee. But let´s just say that I couldn´t care less. On the Monday I thought that it was time for the first appointment with that psychologist, but it turned out that it was on Monday in one, so I just kept on painting.

And then finally, I was finished, I was in the living room with the others in the morning, when Mike came walking.

"Oh hey Sophia." He said. "So, have you got tired of all the painting, or did you just feel like being a bit social."

"No I´m finished." I said. He raised an eyebrow.

"Really? Can I go see it."

"Why not?" I stood up and walked before Mike (and Tyler, Jody, Tee, Johnny, Carmen, Lily, Harry, Gina, Shawn and the twins) to my room. When we came there, I walked in first, then walked backwards to see their reactions.

"Oh… wow." Tyler was the first one speaking. He ran his hand through his curly hair, looking kind of confused.

"You painted this?" Jody asked.

"Yes." I said, and looked around for about the hundredth time. The wall in the back of the room was the wall everyone had helped to paint middle- grey, The wall in the front was white, and on the other two walls, most parts were white, but in the edges, it was as sort of zigzag pattern, I had wanted to make it look like, the light was pushing out the dark. On the darker wall, I had painted some sort of black shadow. That I had tried to make it look like, the light was pressing it away. And on the all-white- wall, there was text, in golden and purple paint.

"Love is stronger than hate!" Stan read out loud, then he turned to me. "Really?"

"Yes really. Now get out." I kicked the others out of the room. Well, not literally, but when they were all out of the room, Joe or if it was Stan was still inside. I closed the door.

"What do you want Stan?" I asked.

"I´m Joe…You sure are a very good artist." He looked around. "Any… special hidden messages in this?"

"No, what would that be?"

"I don´t know, I was just being curious… was… any of your parents or siblings being a good artist too." I had just sat down on my bed, now I flew up on my feet again.

"Don't… talk about my family," I fizzled.

"Sorry Soph."

"GET OUT." I screamed, opened the door and pushed him out the door. "GETOUTGETOUTGETOUT." I closed the door after him.

I looked around my room again, thought about what really was the message with the black shadows. That they were a part of my nightmares, that they would like float over the skies, and walls, whisper words I couldn´t hear. There were no point with telling Joe that. There were no point with telling anyone that.

That Monday, it was time for me to go to that psychologist for the first time. Mike drove with me to the hospital, but while I was there, he had a few things to do. I walked through the corridors at the hospital.

When I first came to this hospital, from Gota. There had been a few weeks, when I could barely move, not so much for the pain from the wound, mostly from the pain with Sophie and dad gone.

After a few weeks, a nurse had told me it would be good for me to get up and walk a few times a day, go out, get some sunshine on me if the weather was good. Just for a couple of minutes for a start, a little longer for each time.

I had been at the hospital for almost two months when I moved into the dumping ground. And by that time, I was known as the corridor- hiker, I had started with walking one time a day, just around the children- apartment. But ended up going further and further, and had ended with going around the hospital about five times a day. Most of the nurses and doctors nodded, or greeted when we met in the hall. Smiled, I could see they knew who I was, not by person, but as whom I was known for.

I sat down in the waiting room, there was about half an hour to the time I should have been here. I was early. I started looking around, a blonde little girl, maybe six or seven, sat in her father´s lap, reading out loud. A brown- haired boy, about four, playing with a red- haired girl about his age. Their mums sitting in chairs not far away, talking. A girl, about ten, and a boy about my age, probably siblings, they had the same dark- brown hair.

Yes, they were siblings, now the father came along, and they walked down the hall and disappeared out of my sight.

I sighed, all these families, now a black woman, came along with a boy, maybe about one year old in her arms. Why could everyone have their family, have their parents and their siblings, when I couldn´t have mine. It wasn´t fair.

Another woman came along, out from the corridor to the apartment, her son was kicking and screaming for candy. I sighed once more, children didn´t even realize that they should treat their family good. They didn´t understand how grateful they should be having them.

I sat like that for a while, leaning back in the chair, looking around and thinking. I tried not to think about my family too much, it was so painful, but it was hard not to.

"Sophia Atkins," I at last heard someone call my name, I turned my head to see the psychologist who had called my name, and what I saw, was definitely not the stereotype of a psychologist, but on the other hand, what was… well definitely not this.

The man was about two meters tall, had black hair, a ring in his eyebrow, elongation- earring. (pretty small one, but anyway) Dressed in a checked button- up shirt, with the sleeves pulled up to just above his elbows, ripped jeans, a leather- wristband pulled at least five times around his wrist, and a silver- colored, (all normal- looking) wristwatch.

"Ehrm, hello. You are Sophia Atkins are you?" he said, and I shook my head.

"Ehrm, yes." I walked towards him, he reached out his hand.

"George Leslie, you can call me George."

"Sophia Atkins, you can call me Sophia."

"This way," he held his hand out, and we walked down the corridor.

So, that´s the second chapter in one day. Wehey, I wasn´t gonna introduce George just yet, but I decided to do that anyways. And, I guess in GB, you call doctors and teachers, and whatever by MR. Mrs. Or miss, but it just felt so wrong, George is George and that´s what he´s called. (I can tell that in Sweden, it´s not common at all to call each other Mr. and Mrs. It more likely never happens. I tell all my teachers, and doctors, and… by their first names, no one does anything else)