NOSTALGIA; Liam Dunbar

ONE

CHAPTER ONE

ERYN CLAYTON is so fucking done.

She's currently running down some unknown street at 9 a.m. to avoid some really furious foster parents. She easily loses them after a few minutes by fleeing into the backstreets.

You may be wondering why Eryn was fleeing her foster parents at 9 a.m. She'll tell you it wasn't even her fault; the foster parents just couldn't manage her behaviour.

Okay, so it was partly her fault, but the fosters were terrible, and she had no respect for them. The only times they would talk to her was if they needed her to do their chores for them or look after their newborn baby while they worked.

Eryn continued to stroll idly down the street until she found herself at a lake watching some kids feed the ducks. The kids squealed happily when the ducks took their bread and they dragged their parents to come and look. The parents looked at them affectionately, protectively, while their children dragged them around, rambling about.

Eryn envied them. She envied how the kids were allowed to be kids, the way their parents protected them carefully to make sure they were safe and content. She wished she could surround herself with people like that—people who would keep her secrets to themselves and defend her with their lives.

She wished she could be a normal kid again, without a care in the world, tugging along happy parents and feeding the ducks. She wished she could spend time rambling about her interests or nothing at all, and laughing with ease, not constantly watching her back.

She turns her gaze away from the ducks and children. No point in wishing for what she couldn't have.

Of course, there was always that glimmer of hope that she'd find the right family. One who accepts her for who she is rather than what she isn't, but she pushed the thought away. Nobody wants a troubled teenager who flees as soon as they have the chance.

Eryn was jolted out of her thoughts as she noticed it began to rain heavily. She scoffed and lifted her backpack that she packed before she left and put it over her head to help her not get completely soaked. She stood up from her seat on the bench and quickly began running again in search of shelter.

She finds herself in a forest, which was right next to the lake, hiding beneath large trees for shelter, and has no option but to call her social worker, Steve. As the adrenaline from running wears off, a tear falls down her face. She quickly wipes it away and pulls out her phone.

Steve has been Eryn's social worker since she was ten years old. She's only had three social workers in her life, but Steve is the only one she's ever been comfortable with. He was a charming middle-aged man who occasionally allowed Eryn to join him on walks with his beloved dog, Smithers.

"Hey Steve! How are you doing on this fine night?" She says in a mock tone of confidence once she picks up.

"What happened, Eryn?" Steve responds with concern in his voice. Eryn winces at his tone but quickly recovers her composure.

"Sorry, I can't understand what you're saying over all this loud rain." She responds, ignoring the fact she couldn't really hear the rain at all.

"Where are you?" Steve sighs, he somehow always knows when somethings up with the girl.

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Eventually, Steve's car appears on the road. Eryn gladly climbs into the beat-up car she's gotten familiar with. It's silent for a couple seconds until Steve turns to look at her and speaks up.

"Eryn, what happened to you?"

Eryn then took a moment to inspect herself in the rear view mirror for a moment, only now noting the dull aching all throughout her body. A particularly nasty bruise above her eye, nearly fully black, was visible in the mirror. When she compared the pain of it to the rest of her body, she was almost certain that her ribs were in a far worse shape.

These definitely weren't the worst injuries she'd ever gotten from a home, but it was one of the more visibly terrible ones. The rest were usually easily covered up by her clothes or concealer. She usually got to cover them before anyone saw, though.

Eryn took a deep breath, wincing slightly. She hopes this means her foster parents didn't break her ribs and she won't have to go to the hospital. She despises hospitals. Eryn recounts her mother's death from cancer when she was just seven years old. Her mother lay in a hospital bed, her frail body steadily deteriorating, while Eryn sat beside her, silently praying for her recovery. Her mother passed away in her sleep the next night.

Actually, now that she can see herself in the light, she looks like trash. Her ankle is aching, and it turns out that climbing out a window wasn't such a good idea in hindsight.

"Where are we going now, Steve?" Eryn asked her social worker, leaning back in her seat, ignoring the pain in her body as she does. "Back to the horrible group home?"

"Not exactly..."

"What? Where the heck are you taking me then?"

"You're heading to an emergency placement house. The lady is a friend of mine, and she also has her own son, who is about 17 years old." Eryn scowls at his words; she knows all about foster parents fostering just to help them with their responsibilities while they shower affection on their own children. Her last home is an excellent example of this.

Steve had the audacity to send her to a different foster home without warning. She scowled at him, wanting to express her anger to him, and he seemed to catch the message.

"Don't worry, she's a great friend of mine and she's really nice. She works at Beacon Hills Hospital, saving a lot of lives." Steve assured.

Eryn sighed, knowing it wasn't his fault; he was only doing his job. She, on the other hand, had no intention of playing the 'perfect child.' She smiled at the thought as she drifted off, her head resting on the cold vehicle window.

"Do you have everything? Or do we have to return?" The words of her social worker jolted Eryn awake. She nodded sleepily, and he smiled back, allowing her to take a little nap on the way to her new home.

She awoke to Steve gently shaking her shoulders and realised that they had arrived at the home. She climbed out of the car with a scowl on her face.

Taking in her surroundings, she noticed the wooden house in front of her had two stories, a small garden, and looked very homely. Eryn wondered what type of people lived here and hoped it was better then her old fosters.

Steve rested a grounding hand on her back and led her up to the front door. He knocked gently and they heard a muffled 'coming!' from the inside of the house followed by a pair of footsteps heading their way.

Her heart begins to pound in her ears, and she tightens her grip on her rucksack. As the door creaks open, Steve squeezes her shoulder reassuringly.

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