Born To Die

A monster attacks me while im leaving with real life barbies

I sat in the sterile, dimly lit waiting room of the child protective facility, my fingers nervously picking at the hem of my sleeve. I was alone. Again. The walls seemed to close in on me as i stared at the dull linoleum floor, avoiding the prying eyes of the few other children scattered around. The air felt thick, oppressive, as though the building itself was holding its breath. I had been here for hours, waiting, but no one had come to talk to me, not really.

The thought of being assigned to a foster home made my stomach churn. What if they didn't understand me? What if they didn't care? What if they didn't want me? I'd been shuffled around before—always with Dad, always together. But now... now i was alone.

And as if the situation wasn't bad enough, there was her.

Ms. Copper.

She reminded me of one of those overly-cheerful teachers in the books I'd read at school, the kind that tried too hard to be kind, to seem understanding, but never really got it. She was plump, with wild, frizzy hair like that of a bird's nest and thick glasses that sat low on her nose like she was constantly looking over the top of them. Her cheeks were round and rosy, like someone who baked too many cookies, and her dress was a mishmash of floral patterns, much too bright for my tastes.

The woman had been walking around the room, talking to the other kids in her overly-sweet, sing-song voice. But i wasn't interested. I could tell there was something off about her. She had this air of too much politeness, too much pretend kindness, like she was putting on a show for the other adults in the room, and i didn't trust it one bit.

Every time Ms. Copper passed me, i gave her a tight smile, one that never reached her eyes, and said something like, "You're a brave girl, Isla. Things will get better, I promise." Her voice was thick with that unspoken pity, and i wanted nothing more than to slap the smile off her face and tell her to shut up.

But i didn't. I just sat there, arms crossed tightly over my chest, staring straight ahead, willing the world to just go away.

I could hear Ms. Copper's heels clicking against the floor as she made her way back toward me. There was no escaping it. I had to endure her now. I didn't know why, but somehow, i knew it was just part of the process. The process of being discarded. The process of being the orphan, the girl without a father.

"You know, Isla," Ms. Copper said, her voice dripping with false sweetness, "You're very lucky. I've already spoken to some very nice families who are excited to meet you. One family has a lovely little girl your age. They're really looking forward to having you, dear."

My stomach twisted into a knot. Lucky? How was i lucky? My father had just died, and now i was being shipped off to strangers? That didn't feel lucky. I didn't feel anything but angry.

"I'm fine here," i muttered, not even looking up from the floor. "I don't need anyone."

Ms. Copper gave a soft, pitying laugh, like she thought it was just being difficult. "Oh, sweetie, we all need someone. Especially you. You've been through so much. You just need a little time to adjust, that's all. We all do, don't we?"

My eyes flickered up to meet Ms. Copper's gaze, but i didn't speak. I just wanted to disappear into the chair, like i could melt into it and escape the woman's words. "We all need someone." It was such a hollow thing to say, like she understood. Like she could know.

But i didn't feel understood. It felt like a part of me had been ripped out—like my life was nothing but a string of broken, scattered pieces that no one cared to put together. I didn't want to be anyone's project. I definitely didn't want to be anyone's charity case.

Ms. Copper leaned down to put a hand on my shoulder, her fingers feeling strangely heavy, almost as if she was trying to assert control over me. My flinched, instinctively pulling away.