There’s always a beginning, a middle, and an end in every story. An introduction, a climax, a resolution. Right now, im at the beginning, but it feels like im stuck in every single part. After my parents tragic death and my sister being missing, I’ve been living in the streets, then sent to sail on a ship and into the arms of a dangerous, drunk man, then I’ve found my way out and waited weeks for the next ship only to fall asleep the minute it comes, then I found someone kind enough to drive me to the airport and pay for everything, then I’ve been stealing food and drinks from stores until today, where somebody generous enough decided to adopt me. Let’s hope she isn’t as drunk or dangerous or inane this time. The minute I step out of the car and into my new house, the door opens and unravels the modern building behind it. I’m taken aback by the vanilla smell as I walk in. All I’ve lived in was engulfed with cobwebs and dust and clogged toilets. My family was poor, yes, but I miss them, but I have to admit, this place is something I could get used to. “You can come in,” the lady smiles. I step in and look around, walking to the living room and running my fingers along the red velvet couch. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me.” Before she walks up the stairs, I stop her. “I… didnt quite catch your name..?” I say, trying to hide the slim bit of sarcasm in my voice. “Lindsay Ferch,” she chirps. “And you?” “Inez Wynder,” I reply. “Lovely!” she squeals. Then she walks up the stairs and the squeaky voices fill in the silence, as if on cue. Her three young daughters, Chloe, Aimee, and Lauren, jump around me in a triangle. Chloe claims to be 5, Aimee is 1, and Lauren is 3. Do they know how much older I am? I’m fourteen. That’s a huge age gap. Plus I look nothing like them or like Lindsay. What if I just walk on the streets, following them while everyone staring and whispering that I look way different and that I’m probably adopted? Even though it’s true, I don’t like the idea of others gossiping about it. The thing is, I don’t look like my original parents or my biological sister, Rylee, either. I look like no one. Almost as if my biological parents adopted me. But no, that can’t be. They have my birth certificates and my photos of me in the hospital at birth. Four knocks come from the door. The little kids stop jumping as they all pout and run to their mother. I sigh in relief and am glad that the annoying noises are over. The knocks are insistent as they come in a row. I grunt and stomp to the door, opening it. I see footsteps left in the mud but no one there. I step outside and look around, too tired to run or try to hunt the person down. I observe everyone there, but no one looks suspicious. Light drizzle begins to fall on my hair. I extend my hand and smile at the sight of it. Then I feel something pressing on my back. I swiftly turn around. It’s Lindsay. “What are you doing, dear?” “Nothing,” I shake my head. “I just heard knocks from the door. I think it was just the rain falling and banging on the ground.” “Oh, okay,” she says. “Come inside.” She puts her arm around my shoulder and walks me inside. I feel something mushy on my foot. “I’ll be right there.” I say. She smiles and mouths the word “okay” as I pick up the mushed paper.
“Maybe it was all a dream, Everything washed away by a stream, Even the most genuine things are fake, Though reality shows up seldomly like a birthday cake, Maybe you were desperate for something real, Even though you know that when everything is fake, it takes time to heal.” What does that mean? I analyze the vertical letters. “M-E-E-T M-E” Meet me? Where? Who? When? How could someone give me this note so vaguely? This is impossible to interpret! I’ve solved elusive mystery cases when playing detective with old friends, I’ve found almost every lost thing my friend has ever lost, but when it comes to this random, little note, I can’t evaluate it? It’s fatuous, really. “Inez!” Lindsay’s high heels clash on the steps. I snap out of my trance and walk inside, closing and locking the door. I’m soaked, water drops dripping from me and hitting the floor. “Oh, Inez,” Lindsay bends down and observes my soaked clothes. “It’s okay.” I say, backing away. I was always taught to be independent. “I’ll wash it off, change, and wash myself off.” She’s taken aback by my reaction. “Oh, okay,” she says quietly, cowering in her desire to assist me and failing. I walk away and up the steps, analyzing the rooms. I accidentally open the door to Aimee, Lauren, and Chloe, who are… on top of each other doing… something. I quickly slam the door shut and turn around, my eyes wide. Kids are so weird. I shake my head and look for the bathroom. Lindsay walks up the steps and looks at me up and down. “The bathroom is over there.” She points to a vacant room. I nod. “Thank you,” I respond. Then she walks in her own room and I see a glimpse of a man in there before she closes the door. I already know what they’re going to do. I gag in disgust and walk to the bathroom, closing the door. I do everything quickly and then look for my room. I open one of the doors and see a vacant room, and I surmise it’s my room. I soak into the bed, the comfortable blanket engulfing me almost immediately. Everything seems so comfortable and luxurious, almost too good to be true. I spontaneously fall asleep reluctantly, as it is almost impossible not to fall asleep in the soft arms of this bed.
