In my opinion, that’s the last thing a 6-year-old should see on her birthday. My mother’s lifeless body lay next to a partially finished bottle of pills that had the label ripped off, and a poorly folded piece of paper. Her head lay flat on the hardwood floor of our empty kitchen. Unfortunately, my father was no longer in the picture, so I had no one to tell that mommy was “sleeping on the kitchen floor with her eyes open”.

I guess my mom got tired of me too; otherwise, she wouldn’t have done it. My mother was an alcoholic, so it wasn’t abnormal for her to be passed out in various parts of the house.

After an attempt to wake her up, I eventually got bored and left her alone, to which I went back upstairs to my bedroom where my stuffed dog, Ernie, waited for me. Grabbing a pillow and a blanket off my bed, I took it back down to the kitchen. Sliding the pillow under her head, I noticed her skin felt weird… cold. My kid brain thought she could actually feel the cold, so I took the pink baby blanket that was a gift from my father, before he left, and laid it over her cold body. Stepping over her legs, I sat next to her and began to study her face which looked littered with old makeup and had a dark ring around one eye. The lifeless eyes stared back at me. It was somewhat creepy.

My stomach was starting to grumble, so I got up and got myself a carrot out of the fridge. There wasn’t much to eat; I hadn’t had a decent meal since dad left. My mother didn’t need much to eat because her whole diet consisted of alcohol and granola bars. Most nights, if she ever came home at all, she would bring me some frozen, half-eaten chicken tenders from the bar where she seemed to live.

………………………

“What do you think about your mother's suicide?”

The sharply dressed man in the chair across from me with a shit-eating smile has been nagging me with this very question every Wednesday since I was seven years old, and yet he still gets the same response every time. Nothing. He released a caught breath.

“Look, Syd… I know you don’t like talking about her, but it’s been quite some time since it happened. You're not a little girl anymore; you're fourteen"

“So,” I said sarcastically.

“So act like it,” he replied.

He looked rather annoyed by the time on the clock. The hour wasn’t going by fast enough for Mr. Fern. He cut the session short and excused me from his office. I ran out of there like a freshly shot bullet out of a dead man's gun; I couldn’t describe how happy I was to be out of there. His office smelled like cheese. Which is probably part of the reason why I don’t like cheese. I turned to the reception office, checked myself out, and was soon on my way back to Sister Mary’s house where all the other little dickheads live. I left the office and started the 20-minute walk from the office to Sister Mary’s.

That week, the sounds of heavy traffic filled my ears, the smell of fast food and fancy restaurants filled my nose, and the sight of the orange and pink sunset filled my eyes. That's the thing I love most about this godforsaken city… I love half-light. Santa Barbara had a lot going for it.

My joy soon came to an end, however. Those big bold letters were always enough to make me want to cry.

~Welcome to Sister Mary’s Home for the Gifted~

Of course, none of the kids in the home were gifted. That is unless you count the innate ability to get in trouble every time you turn around. Nobody is TRULY gifted.

I turned into the lot where Sister Mary immediately met me. She was waiting outside, in front of the big double doors which were beautifully carved and blocked the entrance to the orphanage.

“Where have you been?! It's nearly nightfall,” she scolded. I could tell she was worried.

“I know… I’m sorry Sister Mary,” I replied with a decent helping of shame in my voice. Mary is my favorite nun at the house. It's the other sisters I don’t like.

“Yes, well… get inside before your fingers freeze,” she said, patting me on the back. We always have dinner at 6:30, and lights out at 8:45. It's a tight schedule, but we have to follow it closely, or else we get sent to Satan, himself. At least, that is what Sister Whiney likes to say when any of us misbehave.

“Dinner was just about to start,” Sister Mary said, following me to the dining hall. Eating with four teens, 1 elementary-aged kid, and 3 babies isn’t an easy meal. You’re either dealing with picky kids, bitchy kids, or just straight-up assholes.

Today is Wednesday, which means we’re having grilled cheese and tomato soup. I hate the smell of cheese and I hate tomatoes. After choking down my chunky soup and clumpy cheese on wheat bread, dinner time finally passed. Everyone was washing up for bed and getting ready for the day yet to come. The girls were around the room smearing creams and dabbing powders, all the while dousing themselves with perfumes and body mist. The overwhelming smell of all of the different products fighting with each other created a sickly sweet aroma, and I firmly believe that it is strong enough to be considered a health hazard. Practically gagging on the smell, I made my way over to my bed which was littered with pillows and blankets, and also Ernie who was propped up on a pillow. I had forgotten to make my bed that morning because I was in a hurry to get to the office. I flopped down on my bed, surrounded myself with pillows and blankets, and started to think about the day’s session.

Mr. Fern scares me. After almost 8 years of seeing his stupid face, I still can't seem to tell him exactly what's wrong. The same question he always asks runs laps in my head, repeating itself over and over again until, eventually, I can't take it anymore. What I think about my mother's suicide isn't something you would suspect. I don't think much of it, if anything I feel guilty, never knew my mother but for some reason, I hold so much resentment toward her. It must be an awful thing to hate your mother so much. I envy kids who talk about their moms daily. I've never had adult stability in my life. My father left when I was four and my mother tried to raise me the best she could. Unfortunately raising a kid wasn't as easy as she suspected it to be, and eventually, my mother fell down the rabbit hole of drugs and drinking. Her arms were full of abscesses and her skin wreaked alcohol. The house was never warm and welcoming and the dishes were never done. The floor was never swept. and very rarely did we ever get a good meal. It's not like I should care if there was food on the table but I did, I cared a lot. The only friend I ever really grew up with was my stuffed animal dog Ernie, a strange name for a stuffed animal, But he was the only sense of comfort I had. From a young age, I learned that it's best to keep your secrets to yourself. I never had positive reinforcement and I didn't go to school until I was eight. social wasn't my specialty. I get scared shitless every time somebody says my name. can't look people in the eye either. It's too awkward or I don't know what to say or sometimes I get lost in their eyes. not in a beautifully romantic way, more like stranded in the desert without food or water for days and days without end. Desperately trying to escape, because of this I usually stare at stuff behind them. Sometimes I stare at my shoes or fidget with my fingernails. waiting for them to stop talking and get interested in something else. This is part of the reason adoption fairs never go well for me. Over the years I've watched kids come and go. It doesn't hurt as much as it used to but it still stings to see happy kids with their brand-new parents. When I was younger that's what I wanted the most, after two years of non-stop court hearings and grilled cheese. I stopped caring. That's the first thing you have to learn as an orphan. the older you get the more your chances decrease. The dream you've yearned for will never come true, So it's best now to stop dreaming. You finally have to understand that it's never going to come true. you're never going to be able to make a dream a reality because nobody, and I'll repeat myself. Nobody wants a teenager. You can imagine that you have a family, but remember you have to separate reality from fantasy.

CHAPTER 2

The plan

The sudden sounds of birds chirping and church bells ringing were a subtle alarm saying it was time to get up. Molly (one of the kids in the home) shook me awake and didn't stop until she saw my eyes. Six hours a day, five times a week, will forever be the worst six hours of my life because each class is taught by none other than, Sister Alex. One thing about living in this home for most of my life is that I can recognize the footsteps of others. Using this to my advantage, I can also determine their mood based on how they walk. For example, Sister Winnie walks a little faster when she is happy or nervous. "You better wake up," Molly said. "I hear sister Alex walking up the stairs. Sister Alex has a bad knee. It's uncommon to see her without her oak cane with a crow's nose handle. Not something you would see with someone who devoted their life to god. Just as molly said that I heard the unmistakable sound of walking. One foot in front of the other as well as the crow's noses hitting the hardwood floor, the walking grew louder, with every step getting closer to the door almost every child in that room stopped in their tracks as if the fear of God was put into them. Then the walking stopped. The light under the door disappeared as sister Alex's shadow cast on the floor. A knock at the door was loud and intimidating, the shadow waited a moment. The knob began to veer around the door swung open. Every child froze. my heart was beating so fast it began to make my chest hurt. Making it hard to breathe. I had never gotten out of bed even though Molly warned me about the dangers that were lurking up the stairs. "goodness you would all be late to your own funeral" sister Alex mumbled. There was an awkward silence before she told us to get a move on. The tension around the room went down and everyone just kinda stood there and looked around the room. I got dressed and went to the classroom. Well, not really a classroom. It's just a room where sister Alex rants about God and Jesus, and maybe math if she's feeling generous. In the corner of my eye, I see James, the new kid. Was sneaking off into the library. A kid who is known for being an asshole sure does enjoy reading. Or probably just skipping class. Lucky for him, nobody was going to look for him. Sister Mary always told us that we can do whatever we want, but it’s our future on the line. But he had the right idea. The choice was mine. But it wasn’t like I was gonna miss much. We don’t learn anything in that class. I know more about Jesus than I do about math. I wait for the class door to shut to sneak across the hallway to the library. The door was tall and heavy. So heavy it took all my strength just to open it enough that I could squeeze in. It took a few seconds before it slammed behind me. I heard footsteps freezing in their tracks. “Don’t worry I’m not a sister” I said. “Jesus you scared the crap out of me” James was holding a plastic bag that seemed to be full of some sort of herb. “Typical” I scoffed . “Want some” he teased. “Where did you even get that?” I said. “The circus.” HIs words were obviously laced with sarcasm. I had only been in the library a few times. To me it was like I was seeing something through new eyes, but all James saw was some weirdo that had probably never seen a book before. The silence was broken and interrupted by the sound of James’s coughing and wheezing. The herb floated in the air.

For a split second. I just stared at him, I think he realized, I looked like some deer in headlights.he took one more puff and handed me the joint he had rolled. I didn’t even cough. For ones I felt empty. I wasn’t worried about Mr fern, or sister Alex, or anything. I was gone. Any thoughts that popped into my head immediately vanished. What felt like 20 minutes was well past an hour. Before we knew it the church bell rang, and the first hour was done by this point everyone was heading to the dining hall for breakfast. James got up and started walking to the entrance of the library. He turned around and looked at me like “are you coming or not?”. I got up and followed him to the door. we started walking with the group that was on their way to the dining hall. Molly and Noah were in the back of the line, talking mindlessly about anything that popped into their heads. That was the only time I was thankful for their friendship. Noah was talking about every endless fact he knows about koalas. and Molly, listening closely. Afterwards she talked about the most recent book she read. We got to the dining hall and I immediately wanted it to barf. Today was cream cheese stuffed tomatoes and toast. Thursday's breakfast was like shit and piss mixed in to a blender and served With a side of fish food. I don’t know who’s cooking these god-awful meals. But obviously we need a new supplier. Everyone is going around the table talking about who knows what. Noah talking about koalas, Trey talking about different insects, and Molly rambling on and on about this new book. Nobody really understands what she was talking about. But I guess that's just what makes Molly, Molly. Sister Mary walked around the corner and told us we were excused. She had the serious look plastered on her face. Usually when that happens that means she’s concerned or mad. I was the last one out of the dining hall. “Is everything ok?” sister Alex asked. Her voice sounded shaky. “Is the plan ready?” Asked sister Mary. Plan? What plan? There aren’t any events going on? “Y-yes the plan is ready, we can continue as soon as tomorrow night” “great” said sister Mary. “We’ll tell the children classes will resume on Monday” the footsteps began to turn. I didn't have enough time to react. Sister Mary turned the corner and saw me. My back was turned and I was speed walking “Sydney” sister Mary called out. I stopped, hesitant to turn around. “Why aren’t you outside with the others” she asked. My eyes got really wide. “Nevermind that, could you deliver a message for me?” Tell the others classes will resume on Monday?” I shook my head in response. She began walking the other was and when she turned the corner I ran to the nearest exit. Thankfully the entire orphanage is like one big circle. Go one way out the other. I kept replaying what sister Mary said. What plan? If it was an adoption fair she would’ve told us all. something with that look in her eye. It didn’t sit right with me. It looked malicious, hungry. I tried to ignore it the best I could whatever this “plan” was, I should stay on high alert. Then a question popped into my head. Should I tell someone? Maybe James would understand. Right? I open the door to the courtyard. The hot air hits my face. And the fresh smell of grass surrounded me there, I saw James standing under a tree. talking to molly I started walking towards them. When I got closer I could finally hear what they were talking about. “Hi Sydney” Molly said, “hi, can I talk to James real quick” “sure” she said, turning around and walking the other way. I bid her goodbye and turned back to James. I felt heavy. Like the weight of the world was on my shoulders, the first question he asked me was if I noticed something wrong with sister Mary. “Actually, yea that’s what I wanted to talk about” I said. “She said something about plans”? Do you think they are going to do another adoption fair” he replied. “I don’t know, but there was something wrong with her eyes” we heard the church bell, if sister Mary had never

A/N: ★UFUEGDHD ok so this took me a bit of planning even though I just started this towards the end of January and it’s not quite done but I hope you enjoy ★

13+ ONLY

I came home to a letter that night, not something I usually come home to. nor is it something I want to come home to. a letter is always someone telling you they need something form you and they want it now. But for a letter, it was an odd shade of magenta. I pick up the card shaped envelope off the ground, for just being paper I felt as if it weighed 1000 pounds. A red wax seal was found on the front of the colorful envelope. The letter was addressed to my wife. Gwen, for ten years of marriage, I found it’s best not to open anything in the mail that’s not mine. You should always avert your eyes from a letter that isn’t address to you. I open the door to our apartment only to be met with complete disarray of the home the place was quiet and dark. So quiet it made ur ears hurt. Gwen is a major clean freak. She gets upset when there’s a fork in the sink or a crumb on the table. I stepped over the broken glass of the paintings that used to hang on the wall of our hallway. The glass did a well job of breaking the silence. I didn’t know whether to feel comforted by the sound of glass breaking into even more tiny pieces beneath me I turn the corner to our dining room where my wife was found sitting at the table She was smiling, but it wasn’t exactly a smile. A smile is supposed to be a warm and welcoming feeling, like a hug by the fire after fighting winter. a smile is something to tell you everything is going to be okay. But her smile, there was something wrong about it. Like to many teeth What was once a lovely smile turned into a rotten yellow grin from ear to ear and what was once a pleasant smell, turned into an ugly aroma of decay. Her plump cheeks and button nose were melting away as if someone had poured acid on her face bumps and bruises were forming on her arms leading up to her neck her eyes bulging out of their sockets. My eyes finally departed from the horrific scene, I took a scan around the kitchen, pots and pans falling to the ground, glass cups shattering. But the one thing that remains is a red pot on the stove with a thick suspicious substance leaking through the sides. The dim light making it extremely hard to see. I hear this dark sinister laugh coming from my wife. It was hard to tell it was her since it wasn’t her usual laugh. Gwens laugh is always full of personality, with love and compassion, but this laugh, this laugh sounded very different from her laugh. It wasn’t loving. It was hatred, and it was filled with resent .

HI HI ok so this will be my first post. I wanted to come on here and say than I will be posting my stories to maybe get some people to edit or have feedback if you have any questions feel free to ask BYE.