Prologue

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I'm in a dark room, stumbling around trying to find any way of escaping. I can hear it approaching. This is it. I'm going to die, just like my parents. The footsteps grow louder and louder, it feels like I'm drowning in fear. I wanted to scream but I can't. My body is tense. My legs are cramping. It feels like I've been running  for hours. I can't tell. Everything in my body is telling me to just stop but I won't.

I can't.

I promised myself that I will grow up to be a strong woman, just like my mom. Or at least I think she was. All that's left are these memories of them fighting for their life, begging it tot leave their only child alone. Their eyes filled with nothing but pure terror. My mind is wandering . Thinking about what life would've been like if they never died.
Would we be one of those families who do a Taco Tuesday every other week? Would they show up to all my Lacrosse games? Would we watch scary movies and eat candy on Halloween?

It's a bittersweet thought, dreaming about what could've been. I fall onto my knees. Only now I've realized I was still trying to escape. I make a fatal mistake. I turn around to see how much time I've got left until it gets me. I didn't even fully turn around when it was already close enough for me to make out it's ugly face. It was so dark I could barely see it but it was there. Huge build, hairy and one bug eye in the middle of it's face. No. It has two eyes. There's a significantly smaller one right above the big one. It's sharp teeth are now all I can see. Surely my death would be quick, right?

In the corner of my eye I can see it lifting it's claw, getting ready to slash my throat. One cut, one measly little cut and I'm dead. In the end, it feels like everything I've worked for, every oh so painful emotion I've had to feel, it all was for nothing in the end. Pathetic.
The claw speeds towards me and the second it touches my throat I'm being ripped back into reality.

My hands go straight to my very much —not— slit throat and I peel myself off the now almost drenched mattress. I groan in annoyance, another nightmare. I must've been screaming, my throat feels sore.
Someone bares into my room huffing and puffing.
„Maddie what's going on? You were screaming like a maniac. Are you alright, love?", my aunt Eliza says.

While she's not technically my aunt, she's definitely done a better job at raising me that anyone ever could. After my parents passed, Child Protection Services wanted to make sure I was in good hands, which in their mind meant, me moving to a foster family. There was no record of me having any relatives, so after an incredibly long fight angst all kinds of departments, my mothers best friend, Eliza, got full custody of me. All of that was fine until my single, no partner, dreadfully alone (her words, not mine) aunt, got laid off.

I love her to death but there was no way she could take care of me that way and since the chances of her finding a rich wife within a couple weeks was slim to none was hard to come to terms with.

After losing so much I was on the brink of losing the only person I truly love in my life. There was no way I was gonna be put into another family, possibly an incredibly broken one at that. It was no secret that having such a great mother figure was pretty much the exception.

I've always had a drive to be the best at everything, even if it broke me into a thousand pieces thus I've been a straight A student. The only thing keeping me from going absolutely insane was having my head in books. Books in which my brain actually has to work hard were my favorite. At age 7 my favorite book was the Odyssey it was super hard to believe (not) that I had, in fact, no friends.
„Look at that weirdo...",
„Ew isn't that the orphan girl?",
„If I wore clothes like here I'd never leave the house!",
were some of the most common things people said to me.

Since it as inevitable that Eliza wouldn't be able to take care of me much longer we began looking for solutions. It didn't take long to find a great chance for me to still have somewhat of autonomy of where I was gonna end up. The „Hartley Goldstein Academy of Kids without Opportunities", which is an awfully long name, was my chance for a good life. It was a school whose sole purpose was to give kids without opportunities — orphans, mostly — a chance to a good life. Though it was no secret that my parents were well liked among the community, they were never wealthy. Which made my trust fund... non existent.
So this school would be practically my only way to actually changing my future for the better.

I applied for HGA and got accepted.
Which leads me to this morning, first day of school.

„I'm fine Eliza, just another one of those weird dreams.", I mumble. Although I've always had those dreams, to m dismay, they've become more frequent.
It's always a different dream but they have one thing in common. I always see my parents die.

I shake my head and finally roll out of bed. The mirror next to my bed shows my now crazy looking long black hair. It's usually straight as a pin but after this nightmare it looks like I played around with a fork in an outlet. Pulling at the ends seems to make it look at least a little better.

Now looking at me with a shy smile my aunt says „Breakfast will be ready in a couple minutes. How about you get all ready and pack up your last things."
I nod with a big smile. Without her I would've given up on life so long ago.
In a swift motion she turns around and walks out while calling „I made your favorite!"

I began throwing together the last few things that aren't packed up. Over the years I made sure to only get what I really needed because I always felt the urge of being able to just leave a place, being able to leave most behind. With a suitcase and two moving boxes my room is practically empty. It's a small room but I love it. It always made me feel warm and held.

I slip into my new uniform. A dark grey pleaded skirt, white blouse, brown checkered waistcoat and a dark grey blazer with HGA in gold details on it. I hang the matching tie loosely around my neck not worrying about that for now. I may enjoy being put together but I avoid wearing ties like the plague it reminds me of the dreams I keep having. After getting rid of that birds nest on my head called my hair I grab my backpack and make my way downstairs to the kitchen.

We live in a small townhouse right outside of London. It's quite old. Walking up and down the stairs could wake our neighbors kind of old. I enter the kitchen which looks just as old. On the round table my aunt set up a nice little breakfast with tea, orange juice and my favorite meal of them all, pan fried waffles with caramel syrup. Although it sound odd it had become my comfort food in no time. It was the first meal Eliza made for me when I first moved to her.
With a cup of tea on the side I devour them within minutes.

Reality sets in when he both of us finished putting all of my stuff in the car. Since the school is notorious for being in the middle of nowhere we were gonna be on the road for a while which definitely didn't help my nerves. I take one last look at the place I call home and it suddenly feels like a „goodbye" instead of an „I'll be back once schools over in summer". A shiver goes down my spine.

I don't think I'm ready... But I don't think anyone ever is.

You've reached the end of published parts.

⏰ Last updated: Oct 09 ⏰

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