Emotionless // harry styles

Chapter 1

Present, May 2012

As I sat cross-legged and hunched over on the window seat, I watched as the other kids from the orphanage play outside. How were they so happy? They had no parents, no family, just the other kids who were in the same position as them. They were lonely. How could they be so damn happy?

It's not that I was unhappy, I wasn't actually anything really. I wasn't happy, or sad. I wasn't angry, or forgiving. I wasn't over-the-moon, or depressed. I was just there. I didn't exert my emotions like everyone else does. I haven't given a real smile, cried, laughed, giggled, yelled, screamed, done anything like that in three years. It wasn't awful, nobody could read me because I was unreadable. I had no vulnerabilities, nobody had anything against me. The most emotional word I could use to describe myself? Content. 

The door to my room creaked open, but I didn't avert my eyes from the outside landscape. "Tinsley, there's some people here who would like to meet you." Ms. Avery, the orphanage supervisor spoke softly. She wasn't like the orphanage caretakers that were portrayed in the movies; awful, rude, mean. She was one of the kindest people I've ever met. She was in her late 50s, married once, three kids. So why she chose to take care of an orphanage? After the death of her husband, her three sons were off living their own lives, and she started fostering kids. Later, she became the care taker of this orphanage in southern California. She loves finding kids new homes, but I seem to be her greatest challenge. Couples eager to adopt older children take one good look at me and turn away, some even say a let off a bad vibe, which has never bothered me.

A throat clearing broke me from my thoughts. Taking in a deep sigh, and turned slowly from the window seat and placed my bare feet on the old wooden floor. I walked over to the floor length mirror by my bed and straightened out my outfit; a plain grey v-neck, some khaki capris, and slipped on a pair of white Vans. My hair had gotten a bit darker and longer, and my eyes had gone from bright blue to a lifeless grey. I shook my head, allowing my hair to follow out of its hair tie and down to just above my lower back. I gave myself one last glance and nodded; I looked presentable and adoptable.

Shoving my hands in my pockets, I walked out of the room and alongside Ms. Avery as she gave me the low-down on who I was meeting with today; yesterday it was a lesbian couple who claimed my "vibes were not chill" and a newly wed man and women who shouted at me for not apologizing for their dog's death. Adoptive parents are wacko, if you ask me. That's why I plan on lasting it out here until I turn 18, which I will be in about 4 months, so I can actually move out and live on my own. Anyways, Ms. Avery has told me today that I will be meeting with a posh-British couple who are looking to adopt a daughter about my age. They said their daughter was living with them and she ended up moving out with her boyfriend, so they wanted to find another girl who could take her place, because they eventually disowned her. I almost laughed at that, but kept my blank expression on. Upon entering the room, I was greeted by a handsome older gentlemen and his all too looking perky wife.

"Hi, I'm Tinsley." I smiled awkwardly, retrieving my right hand from my pocket to shake the man's hand. He gave me a firm handshake and smiled.

"I'm Dalton, this is my wife, Clarissa." He said in his thick British accent, then pointed to his blonde wife. She was tall and skinny, platinum blonde hair, bright green eyes, and incredibly chiseled cheek bones. She had to be some type of model. 

"She's perfect! Look at her!" The women squealed, far too high pitched for me, and scurried over to me. "Well, except for that." She poked the zit forming on the corner of my nose. "Or that." To the zit on my chin. "Or that..." She pointed to the zit on my forehead. I looked at Ms. Avery with widened eyes and she couldn't help but stifle a silent giggle. If there was one rule I hated more than anything at this orphanage, but never fully had to experience, was that you had no say in who adopted you. Stupid, right?