FOSTER CHILD | ACT TWO
scene twenty-four: the wicked family of the east coast
TO SAY that Isla was scared shitless was an extreme understatement.
She felt like an empty shell of a person as she sat opposite her grandmother in his slightly more clean but still ridiculously messy apartment.
Her stomach churned as her fingers picked and dragged across the leather armchair. Her eyes followed Vincent as he moved across the room with her tea.
She readjusted herself in her seat, thanking Vincent as he handed her a cup of tea. She took a sip, grimacing at the taste. It held too much sugar, making it bitter and the tea bag barely had any chance to soak in the water, it tasted like tea flavoured sweet water than anything tea itself.
"Isabella." Her grandmother spoke up. Her tone was sickly sweet, bitterness and venom hidden beneath. "It's been a while hasn't it?"
Isla smiled faintly, fidgeting with her fingers and avoiding eye content with her Uncle Paul at all costs. He had aged within seven years, that was the first and only thing she could note about the man. Already having a full head of grey hair despite being in his late thirties, or early forty's. Isla wasn't sure, she couldn't remember how old he was these past few weeks.
Isla nodded, faking a smile. "Things have been great."
Her grandmother returned the gesture, bringing the cup to her lips, staring Isla up and down as she blew on her tea, cooling it down. "And the injuries?"
She didn't say anything as she looked down at her arm. She couldn't just outright tell her that she got them from fighting with a crazed sociopath, she wouldn't have believed and her shamed for being a childish liar.
"I assume you got them from your dad?" She chuckled, a smug look in her eyes, diverting her attention to her husband. "Jailbirds, what more could you expect from them."
Isla furrowed her brows. "How did you know that my dad was in jail?"
"I do extensive background checks on every person involved with my kids. Meaning," She narrowed her eyes, leaning over so that she and Isla were face to face. "I know exactly what goes on in your life."
Isla gulped, looking down at her feet as they bounced. If she was keeping extensive tabs on her that meant she knew everything about Isla. Including the incident in Arkansas.
"Honey I'm just kidding!" She laughed into her teacup, shakily bringing it up to her mouth and taking a sip.
Isla hesitantly laughed shakily. She was laughing to calm herself more than she was laughing to please her grandmother at her horrid attempt at a joke.
Her laughed deflated. "Vincent told me. Isn't that right sweetheart?" Her bulging eyes looked up at Vincent as she took a sip from her cup.
That traitorous bitch, Isla thought, looking at Vincent as he bowed his hand down, avoiding all means of eye contact with her or anyone in the room.
"Anyways, enough with the formalities. Let's talk business." She looked up at her husband, holding out the cup and saucer in her hands. "Honey if you wouldn't mind."
Her grandfather smiled, taking the cup and saucer out of his wives hand and placing it on the table in a gentle. He tore Isla's cup out of her hands as she took a sip out of it. She hissed as the tea flavoured water split onto her arm, landing right onto a healing cut.

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FOSTER CHILD | PETER PARKER
Fanfiction"You can't just fight Flash Thompson in the middle of class?" "Yes I can, and you're going to watch me!" ─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ─── In which a discarded foster kid with severe familial and emotional issues and a special power fa...