A Camp Named: Silver Lake

Chapter 1: "Only 287 days."

Kayden

As soon as I stepped into the bus, I ran to the middle row, I'm avoiding any awkward conversation on the ride there. My least favourite part about summer is the ride there; I swear it gets longer every year. I usually dose off with my head placed upon the vibrating window frame until the bus is thrown into a pothole and my head is thrusted upwards with such velocity. There's no point sleeping in this packed bus with the most obnoxious campers. I wish I didn't have to. I always had to ride the bus there as my parents would never take me, fuel prices, I guess. 

We were never the most well-off family and having to stay at home was overly isolating like the walls were caving in each day suffocating me, I'd go days without seeing sunlight and depression would thrive within. Camp is the only form of holiday that my family can afford since I'm practically volunteering free. It's a way out the house, away from my parents' constant breakdowns about how they are going to get through the next week. Having to hear that weekly drains someone more than you could possibly imagine like the tiniest bit of hope being brutally pulled from my soul. I needed something to look forward to. 

I'm rambling again which I prepared for, I had brought my phone with it's charger and earbuds. I had installed podcasts and playlists to it, which would silence the entourage of insults and slurs being thrown around at the back of the bus. I recalled from last year that some campers had argued their selves into a fist fight which ended with a busted nose, I just hid away and tuned it out. 

I flip on a playlist and get myself comfortable for the rest of the ride.

Viktor

I woke up in a cold sweat, last night I had a nightmare about my real parents. Not the foster ones that I'm situated with now but my real ones, it was a weird fogged up dream in my head but I remembered being ditched by them and being unable to move. It's stuck in my head, I weirdly can't shake it off, I can't tell anyone about it either especially  not my foster parents, they'll send me back because they'll think I'm mentally ill or something. In a disgruntled haze, I turn to the alarm clock situated on the table next to my bed with various CD's scattered around. Shit. I had to go this very moment, I jumped up and threw on the outfit that I had laid neatly across the bottom of the bed. Throwing on jeans while hopping to the bathroom and back with a toothbrush in my mouth, nearly tumbling down the stairs, I swing around the banister with my backpack packed with clothes and essentials. 

I got lucky when I was picked up from the foster home, I was stuck between fighting with the other kids and being written up as being overly aggressive. I couldn't handle my own emotions and I had no clue why, I kept them hidden away because I knew this wasn't a normal occurrence. I would get shipped away, transferred or worse. I would see these sort of auras around people when I really focus in, my head would start throbbing when dealing with intense emotion as I feel it seep into my psyche. This would leave me uncontrollable of my own thoughts and actions as if I wasn't in control of my own body, the fights felt so distant as I felt like I was watching in through a hazed and dirty window.

I get ready for the ride there, I'm being driven in by one of the fosters, I like to call them. I'm hoping to avoid the 'getting to know each other' conversation, I've only been here for 2 weeks and I don't need to be getting comfortable. Families like these get your hopes up before they eventually grow tired of you and take you back to the shelter, that's why I took up this camp so I can be out of their hair before they see what I'm really like. One slipup and I'd be sent back to the home in a millisecond without any further say, this is going to keep happening until I'm legally an adult in the state.

Only 287 days.