Party At Your Own Risk

1 // road trip

Hello! Welcome to my second story! Please don't judge I'm not the best writer.

-Kira

Chapter 1

*Viola's P.O.V.*

"Woohoo! Best spring break ever!" I fist pumped. Senior year baby! Last year until I'm in the big leagues!

"I know right? This is going to be great!", my best friend Imogen yelled.

Quin and Kara were dancing in their seats and belting the song on the radio.

"Oh my god! This is my jam, turn it up!" I yelled.

I started to sing my little heart out, "Cause you make me feel like, I've been locked out of heaven! For too lo-oo-onng for too looo-oonngg!"

We all burst into fits of laughter at my singing.

"I wonder if we'll run into Liam and his friends there." Quin yelled over the loud music.

"What?" I yelled back.

I turned the music down and asked, "What was that Quin?"

"I said I wonder if we'll run into Liam and his friends." She said excitedly.

"Oh my gosh Q, can you stop talking about hime for 2 seconds?" Kara chuckled.

"Whatever Kara, you're just jealous." Quin stated.

"I'll text Caleb", I yelled.

"I'll text Ty!", Imogen said with excitement. Our Jeep swerved.

"NO! You're driving!" We yelled in unison.

"Ok, sorry." She apologized.

V: Hey, are you going to be @ Coachella with Ty, Liam, Dean, and Ryan

Caleb: Yup :D

V: Yay! Where are you guys staying? We should meet up for dinner at 7.

Caleb: Resort Indio. You?

V: Holy crap, same! We'll be there in 15min.

"Guess where Liam, Caleb, Dean, Ryan, and Ty are staying?" I said excitement lining my voice.

"I don't know, Paradise Inn?" Kara questioned.

"No silly, at Resort Indio!" I yelled.

"YAY!" Kara and Quin squealed.

We were all so excited for this weekend. Especially me. You see, we aren't at Coachella just to party. No, we're here to kill. That's our living. Our duties. I was found at the doorstep of the Old England Orphanage with a birth certificate and picture of my parents, whereas Imogen, Kara, and Quin were sent to this program.
I was adopted four times. I was only a year old the first time and after about 2 and a half years later I was being abused. One day the neighbors heard me scream and called the police. The second time I was adopted I had just turned four. I was excited because I thought of it as a birthday present. I was wrong. The woman who adopted me was bipolar and she had a drug problem. On the weekends she would bring home strange men and they would smoke and drink in the living room. On my 5th birthday one day she brought home one of her "friends". This man was three times my size. He said he wanted to play with me, so I got scared and I ran into my room, locked my door and jumped out of the window. Luckily we had a one story house and lived near my school. I ran to my kindergarden classroom and my teacher saw me, I explained everything to her, and she took me to the police station. That's when my mom got diagnosed with bipolar disorder and her friends were arrested.

The third time I was adopted was probably the worst. I was adopted a month and a half later by this young couple. Probably in their young 30's, they looked so sweet.
Their names were Patricia and Dan. Dan reminded me of one of the strange men my second mother brought home but I just brushed off the feeling and went home with them. A week later they started to treat me horribly. When the Patricia went to work the Dan stayed home and beat me. He would drink a six pack and get drunk out of his mind then hurt me. When the she came home she would ask about my bruises and I would always tell her that I was clumsy. Then, they began to make me clean their rooms. Then clean the house, do the laundry, yardwork, etc. It doesn't sound hard but they had massive parties. With tons of alcohol and games. Everyone would get drunk and throw up all over the place. I wasn't even allowed in the house during those parties. They just kept me outside until they came and told me to clean. After the parties they would beat me because they said it made their hangovers feel better. One party these college kids came into the backyard and then they saw me crying. They stopped what they were doing and asked me what I was doing out there. I told them and they got me out reported my parents and took me back to the orphanage. Almost three years later I was adopted again, I was nine years old I was scared to be adopted again. But this is my fourth time being adopted and I actually like it. Even though it means killing that's ok.