8 years later
Evangeline
The subway train rumbles to a stop. Highland Street. I glance at the note containing directions to my new home. Mariam's messy cursive is barely eligible.
Clutching my backpack, I walk out with the horde of people streaming from the train and step out onto the platform. Why does Mariam have to stay in such a crowded area? I start to follow the directions on the note. Exit B, it says.
Dad is currently overseas on another business trip. Mariam will be at the estate just for the evening to help me settle down. After that, she'll be joining Dad in Barcelona, Spain for wedding preparations and shit. Dad and Mariam are getting married in a month. I guess when Mariam said that she loved him, she really meant it. I unconsciously reach up to touch my bruised cheek. Thanks, Dad, for the lovely parting gift.
Arrangements have been made to have me sent to live at her house...with four stepbrothers. That's why I find myself traveling halfway across the country on my own to Mariam's estate. Yay. She wanted to come and pick me up, but Dad said no. Not like I care.
Mariam has only briefly mentioned her sons in the near decade we've known each other. I have always wanted siblings. Although I haven't met them before, I still am super excited to have a family.
Even since the tender age of three, I have been left to fend for myself. Dad would leave me in the house while he went away to work, and then return late at night. An unwise choice for a parent to make, yes, however Dad couldn't or wouldn't pay for a babysitter, nor bring his toddler on his frequent work trips overseas either, so that was that.
Mariam claims it's nothing short of a miracle that I'm still here today. More likely I was just lucky enough not to get into an accident, anyway. Find Peachtree Ave and turn left at the junction. Number 489. I chuckle to myself. Peachtree?
The row of houses lining the streets scream rich. Abso-fucking-lutely rich. I find myself standing at the entrance to Number 489. This isn't a house. It's a freaking mansion!!! Large glass windows set in polished white stone reflect the bright afternoon sun. The estate flaunts a well-kept garden full of blooming bushes and trees. A cobblestone pavement leads up to the front door. Rosewood?
Hesitantly, I press the doorbell. A thumping noise can be heard from within, and the door is thrown open, revealing a flaxen-haired boy my age standing there. He scowls. Royal blue eyes bore into me. "Can I help you?"
