Post by Bree on Apr 5, 2007 21:31:46 GMT -5
Hope this one is better than the last couple! I work on this for a while..hehe
Day #1
Foster home, again. Just because her step-dad had to ruin everything by finding her. She was stuck in another office to hear another verdict that she didn’t really care for. Didn’t he get it? She didn’t want anything to do with him or his booze. Nor did she want to deal with the “whiskey man”-the person he turned into- when he got mad. She didn’t wan to become his punching bag anymore.
The physical scars were finally healing after 2 years of -trying- staying away from him. The emotional ones…They were still there and throbbing in pain. Why can’t he leave her alone? Why did he have to take it that far? On top of anything else, why did her mum sign off her parental right to him when she died from leukemia 2 ½ years ago?
She just wanted to have a normal teenage life, without court dates, concerning case-workers or anything of that sort. Some times she wished she didn’t open her big mouth to the counselor at school. Then she would have had a semi-normal life, even though it included beatings.
She had to believe it was for the best…
Anabell sat Indian-style in one of the office chairs waiting for the “verdict”. She knew that “it was for the best” and that they were “looking out for her future” and all that bull-crap, but she was tired of it all. She just wanted to curl up under her blankets and sleep her problems away…
But NOOO… they -the court system- wouldn’t leave her alone. Nor her step-dad for that matter. She was getting real tired of it…No she was tired of it 2 years ago. Now she is just sick of it all..
As she cracked her neck, the secretary looked at her funny. She just didn’t understand some people. They had the tendency to watch everything she did which really made her mad. Didn’t people have better things to do?
She stood up to get the feelings back in her legs. She saw her pale complexion in the mirror across from her. Her silver blue eyes mirrored how she felt inside; determined, but bored. Her pants looked shabby and worn-through –they were- but she liked them that way. Paint stains were scattered all over her pants and there were some small holes on the bottom but they were her favorite. Her over-sized Ireland hoodie had some glitter on it from this morning-she loved glitter, it was so sparkly- and she rubbed some it off. Her blonde hair was waist-length and currently in numerous braids, majority of them didn’t even have ties. Her duffel bag was black with some white and yellow stars on it. She could never part with it. It had all her necessities, including her journal. Oh lordy, if some people read that, her ass would be grass and the world would be the lawn-mower.
Ms. Chubecco -her case-worker- poked her head in the waiting room and said: “Come on. I am ready for you.”
Annabel followed Ms. Chubecco into her office and sat in another uncomfortable chair. Without even thinking about it, she said “You guys seriously need to hit up management for some new chairs. Jagged rocks would be more comfortable than these things”
Ms. Chubecco couldn’t believe her. She had so much riding on her, so much depending on her and yet she decides to start bitchin’ about uncomfortable chairs. She sat down in her chair, her green business suit, that she bought because it matched her eyes, was getting even more wrinkled. Her usually neat brown hair was all frizzy and was sticking up in a lot of places. She didn’t want to be dealing with this at 9 am in the morning. Hello? Who would?
She had to set Anabell in her place and the only time was now. She here is goes..
“You have better and more important things to worry about than uncomfortable chairs. Like the fact that this is the up-teenth time I am placing you in a home and I am a wits end with you. You don’t take responsibility for what you do and you expect everyone to walk on egg shells just because of what happened to you. GET OVER IT! YOU ARE NOT SPECIAL. You are just like everyone else and you need to learn that now before, oh, you go out in the real world. Not everyone is going to give you up-teenth chances to get it right. Hell, you’ll be lucky if they give you two. Hell is better than the real world, you know. They don’t care what you do, but the real world does.”
Anabell dropped her jaw. She couldn’t believe this. This {usual} easy-going, down-to-earth person, who preached to everyone and anyone that life is too short for bitchin’, was bitchin’ her out over something stupid. She couldn’t and didn’t want to believe it.
“Ex-cuse me?” Anabell said slowly.
“You don’t realize it do you?” Ms. Chubecco continued as if Annabel didn’t say anything. “This is the last home I can put you in. If this doesn’t work out, YOU ARE GOING TO A GROUP HOME. You don’t have any life-lines left, no friends to call, nada. You don’t have room to screw off anymore nor play your stupid games. You have to make this work. Don’t blow this meeting off nor blow of Mr…” Ms. Chubecco looks down at her case file. “Reed. You both need this. Got it?”
Anabell was stunned. She couldn’t believe that she was being put into her place by Ms. Chubecco of all people.
“Hello? Earth to Anabell? Do you understand?”
Anabell nodded vigorously.
“No excuses?”
“Excuses are like assholes. Everyone has one and they all stink” Anabell mumbled.
“Care to share that last bit with me?”
“Not really.”
“Then let’s go.” Ms. Chubecco walked out with Anabell following close behind. She knew better than to just sit there; she would be lectured by everyone and their brother on how she was “wasting everyone’s time”. She also knew better than to take a detour; she had “disappeared” the last time and they had the cops looking for her everywhere in a 4 mile radius, when she was just on the balcony smoking a cigarette. Boy, did she piss off a hell’va lot of people that time. She also got a ticket for smoking underage, which she still has yet to pay.
She walked into the group room to see a middle aged man with no grey hair of wrinkles -that was about to change- lounging in a -what seem to be- comfortable chair. His legs were on top of the huge round table where there was paper work scattered. His brown hair looked almost as long as hers, she couldn’t be sure because it was pulled up in a pony tail. He was wearing a pair of ripped jeans and a black Chicago Bears hoodie. It looked like he had an earring in his left ear, she wasn’t really sure.
Ms. Chubecco pulled Anabell father into the room and pointed at a chair directly across from “Mr. Reed”; she took the one closer to the door instead.
Ms. Chubecco let out a prolonged sigh, and then cleared her throat to get “Mr. Reed’s” attention.
“Mr. Reed” looked startled as he finally noticed that people were in the room. He rubbed his eyes, looking like he was just waking up. His dark tan covered up most of his freckles, yet there was some right on his nose that seemed to forget that they were supposed to be tanned too.
Oh boy. This was going to be fun.
“Mr. Reed, this is Anabell. Anabell, this is Mr. Reed. Why don’t you chit-chat while I go get us some coffee, ya?” Ms. Chubecco walked briskly out of the room.
“Cream and sugar!” yelled both Mr. Reed and Anabell at the same time. Mr. Reed laughed, whilst Anabell looked down.
“At least we have something in common.” Mr. Reed said as he took his feet of the table. He smiled at her.
Who does that this day and age? Anabell thought..
He almost looked and sounded like he cared...
She automatically put her defenses.
“Umm… I am going to cut to the chase then before Miss-dash-and-grab comes back. I don’t believe in rules. Honestly, I did nothing but rebel against them when I was your age and it got me in more trouble than you can imagine. I don’t believe that there are “stupid” questions. You can honestly ask me anything you like. I won’t hide anything from you. You are a year and a half away from becoming a legal adult and I don’t want you to miss anymore of your childhood than you have already….”
Day #132
Anabell smiled. She still could remember that day, even with out her journal.
It was the start of her; scratch that, their new life.
It was weird at first, having a home to call her own. Hell, it was weird having her own bedroom. But the weirdest of all was having someone to go to. Having someone care for her. Having somebody spend probably over three thousand dollars on new clothes and a bedroom set, just to prove to her that he would take care of her. That he was there to help her anyway possible and he didn’t care for booze/drugs nor the gov’t check that came in every month. {He actually signed it off to her, saying that teenagers needed money to go out and have fun}
She finally realized what her mum meant when she said, the day before she died, “Home is where your heart is, not where your two feet are planted.
Day #1
Foster home, again. Just because her step-dad had to ruin everything by finding her. She was stuck in another office to hear another verdict that she didn’t really care for. Didn’t he get it? She didn’t want anything to do with him or his booze. Nor did she want to deal with the “whiskey man”-the person he turned into- when he got mad. She didn’t wan to become his punching bag anymore.
The physical scars were finally healing after 2 years of -trying- staying away from him. The emotional ones…They were still there and throbbing in pain. Why can’t he leave her alone? Why did he have to take it that far? On top of anything else, why did her mum sign off her parental right to him when she died from leukemia 2 ½ years ago?
She just wanted to have a normal teenage life, without court dates, concerning case-workers or anything of that sort. Some times she wished she didn’t open her big mouth to the counselor at school. Then she would have had a semi-normal life, even though it included beatings.
She had to believe it was for the best…
Anabell sat Indian-style in one of the office chairs waiting for the “verdict”. She knew that “it was for the best” and that they were “looking out for her future” and all that bull-crap, but she was tired of it all. She just wanted to curl up under her blankets and sleep her problems away…
But NOOO… they -the court system- wouldn’t leave her alone. Nor her step-dad for that matter. She was getting real tired of it…No she was tired of it 2 years ago. Now she is just sick of it all..
As she cracked her neck, the secretary looked at her funny. She just didn’t understand some people. They had the tendency to watch everything she did which really made her mad. Didn’t people have better things to do?
She stood up to get the feelings back in her legs. She saw her pale complexion in the mirror across from her. Her silver blue eyes mirrored how she felt inside; determined, but bored. Her pants looked shabby and worn-through –they were- but she liked them that way. Paint stains were scattered all over her pants and there were some small holes on the bottom but they were her favorite. Her over-sized Ireland hoodie had some glitter on it from this morning-she loved glitter, it was so sparkly- and she rubbed some it off. Her blonde hair was waist-length and currently in numerous braids, majority of them didn’t even have ties. Her duffel bag was black with some white and yellow stars on it. She could never part with it. It had all her necessities, including her journal. Oh lordy, if some people read that, her ass would be grass and the world would be the lawn-mower.
Ms. Chubecco -her case-worker- poked her head in the waiting room and said: “Come on. I am ready for you.”
Annabel followed Ms. Chubecco into her office and sat in another uncomfortable chair. Without even thinking about it, she said “You guys seriously need to hit up management for some new chairs. Jagged rocks would be more comfortable than these things”
Ms. Chubecco couldn’t believe her. She had so much riding on her, so much depending on her and yet she decides to start bitchin’ about uncomfortable chairs. She sat down in her chair, her green business suit, that she bought because it matched her eyes, was getting even more wrinkled. Her usually neat brown hair was all frizzy and was sticking up in a lot of places. She didn’t want to be dealing with this at 9 am in the morning. Hello? Who would?
She had to set Anabell in her place and the only time was now. She here is goes..
“You have better and more important things to worry about than uncomfortable chairs. Like the fact that this is the up-teenth time I am placing you in a home and I am a wits end with you. You don’t take responsibility for what you do and you expect everyone to walk on egg shells just because of what happened to you. GET OVER IT! YOU ARE NOT SPECIAL. You are just like everyone else and you need to learn that now before, oh, you go out in the real world. Not everyone is going to give you up-teenth chances to get it right. Hell, you’ll be lucky if they give you two. Hell is better than the real world, you know. They don’t care what you do, but the real world does.”
Anabell dropped her jaw. She couldn’t believe this. This {usual} easy-going, down-to-earth person, who preached to everyone and anyone that life is too short for bitchin’, was bitchin’ her out over something stupid. She couldn’t and didn’t want to believe it.
“Ex-cuse me?” Anabell said slowly.
“You don’t realize it do you?” Ms. Chubecco continued as if Annabel didn’t say anything. “This is the last home I can put you in. If this doesn’t work out, YOU ARE GOING TO A GROUP HOME. You don’t have any life-lines left, no friends to call, nada. You don’t have room to screw off anymore nor play your stupid games. You have to make this work. Don’t blow this meeting off nor blow of Mr…” Ms. Chubecco looks down at her case file. “Reed. You both need this. Got it?”
Anabell was stunned. She couldn’t believe that she was being put into her place by Ms. Chubecco of all people.
“Hello? Earth to Anabell? Do you understand?”
Anabell nodded vigorously.
“No excuses?”
“Excuses are like assholes. Everyone has one and they all stink” Anabell mumbled.
“Care to share that last bit with me?”
“Not really.”
“Then let’s go.” Ms. Chubecco walked out with Anabell following close behind. She knew better than to just sit there; she would be lectured by everyone and their brother on how she was “wasting everyone’s time”. She also knew better than to take a detour; she had “disappeared” the last time and they had the cops looking for her everywhere in a 4 mile radius, when she was just on the balcony smoking a cigarette. Boy, did she piss off a hell’va lot of people that time. She also got a ticket for smoking underage, which she still has yet to pay.
She walked into the group room to see a middle aged man with no grey hair of wrinkles -that was about to change- lounging in a -what seem to be- comfortable chair. His legs were on top of the huge round table where there was paper work scattered. His brown hair looked almost as long as hers, she couldn’t be sure because it was pulled up in a pony tail. He was wearing a pair of ripped jeans and a black Chicago Bears hoodie. It looked like he had an earring in his left ear, she wasn’t really sure.
Ms. Chubecco pulled Anabell father into the room and pointed at a chair directly across from “Mr. Reed”; she took the one closer to the door instead.
Ms. Chubecco let out a prolonged sigh, and then cleared her throat to get “Mr. Reed’s” attention.
“Mr. Reed” looked startled as he finally noticed that people were in the room. He rubbed his eyes, looking like he was just waking up. His dark tan covered up most of his freckles, yet there was some right on his nose that seemed to forget that they were supposed to be tanned too.
Oh boy. This was going to be fun.
“Mr. Reed, this is Anabell. Anabell, this is Mr. Reed. Why don’t you chit-chat while I go get us some coffee, ya?” Ms. Chubecco walked briskly out of the room.
“Cream and sugar!” yelled both Mr. Reed and Anabell at the same time. Mr. Reed laughed, whilst Anabell looked down.
“At least we have something in common.” Mr. Reed said as he took his feet of the table. He smiled at her.
Who does that this day and age? Anabell thought..
He almost looked and sounded like he cared...
She automatically put her defenses.
“Umm… I am going to cut to the chase then before Miss-dash-and-grab comes back. I don’t believe in rules. Honestly, I did nothing but rebel against them when I was your age and it got me in more trouble than you can imagine. I don’t believe that there are “stupid” questions. You can honestly ask me anything you like. I won’t hide anything from you. You are a year and a half away from becoming a legal adult and I don’t want you to miss anymore of your childhood than you have already….”
Day #132
Anabell smiled. She still could remember that day, even with out her journal.
It was the start of her; scratch that, their new life.
It was weird at first, having a home to call her own. Hell, it was weird having her own bedroom. But the weirdest of all was having someone to go to. Having someone care for her. Having somebody spend probably over three thousand dollars on new clothes and a bedroom set, just to prove to her that he would take care of her. That he was there to help her anyway possible and he didn’t care for booze/drugs nor the gov’t check that came in every month. {He actually signed it off to her, saying that teenagers needed money to go out and have fun}
She finally realized what her mum meant when she said, the day before she died, “Home is where your heart is, not where your two feet are planted.
