Chapter 2: Olivia

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Hey, I'm Olivia. Age 15. Female.

I used to be pretty popular at my old school. But apparently, nobody likes someone with dead parents. They all assume I murdered them and avoid me. I get it, stay away from the creepy orphan girl who lives in a haunted orphanage.

Let's just cut to how my parents died.

My mom died giving birth to me. That's it.

My dad was an alcoholic. After he got fired from the job that was pretty much his life, he spent all his time on the couch smoking and drinking.  One night, he invited a bunch of his friends over. They all drank and played poker all night till they ran out of bottles.
"I'm gonna drive over to the store and gets some more drinks!" I heard him yell. I was young, like 7, so the memory was a blur. But I remember vividly when a cop told me my daddy was in the hospital, dying. I went over to the big hospital and watched my dad sleep and his pulse slow. I was almost certain he was going to die in front of me. Funny thing is, he lived. He got major amnesia though. He still remembered a lot of basic things like breathing, eating, and walking, but he forgot more important things. He forgot he ever had a wife and a dog and a brother. He even forgot he lost his job. And...he forgot he had a child. When he saw me as we were being escorted back home, he questioned who I was. He asked me why I wanted him to believe I was his daughter. He was stubborn as heck. We had to get one a of the nurses to live with us for a couple of days to make sure my dad didn't try to hurt me or treat me like a stranger. I think the nurse's name was Emille. Yeah, that's it. Emille was like a mother figure to me. My dad got use to a random little girl living with him. Everything was okay again.

But pretty soon, everything went downhill.

After about 3 months, his amnesia got worse. He forgot how to solve basic math problems and couldn't remember my name every single day. It quickly got escalated and eventually, he forgot how to walk. Emille and I took him to the ER and the doctors couldn't do anything to get his memory back. They inferred that soon, he would forget how to breath. They had to let him go.

My dad said to me, "It's okay if I forget, because you still remember right? As long as you do, I remember too." The doctors pushed me out of the room and finished the job.

I swear I'm not crying right now.

I'm too tough for that.

Unlike my "best friend" Carter who is a little on the sensitive side and cries about everything. We're both in high school and we both live in the same orphanage. To raise money for the orphanage, we usually go to big events and explain our situations. Carter cries every time. He's okay. I'm always there in the back to comfort him. It's nice to have him around. We're tighter than a real family is. And that's saying a lot.

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