Survival of the Fittest || supernatural

Chapter 2

Everything was beyond normal. My foster parents were acting so damn weird.. I hated it. After a couple rounds of Yahtzee, I was sent to my room. It was only 6:30.

I fall back onto my bed and let out a loud sigh. I already despise being here. I've always really hated foster parents because they'd always try too hard to be "perfectly amazing" and I find it so fake. I want the parents that'll stay up late with you watching some ridiculous teen drama like the Vampire Diaries and yell at me when I do something insanely stupid. I don't want the parents that plan family game night and blow off anything bad I do because they want me to be "happy." I don't want perfect, I want imperfect. I just want the kind of weird, normal, crazy, cool parents.

By 9:00 p.m. I was dressed in my pajamas and snuggled into the over-comfortable bed of mine. I was slowly falling asleep to the thought of my imperfect, imaginary family when I hear loud scratching. I awake from my dream and yawn with a stretch. It takes me a moment to wake up from my heavy sleep. Must be the washing machine or something. I sit up and look around the fairy princess room, making me cringe again.

I shake my head and fall back onto my pillow. I close my tired eyes and curl up, drifting back into a deep sleep.

~*~

My morning consisted of frying bacon and sizzling eggs. The smell of breakfast food made my stomach roar with hunger. I brush through my tangled mess of hair and slip on ripped skinny jeans and a Led Zepplin tee.

Travis seemed to dislike my sudden change in apparel but Jill made no comment against me. Again, we sat in silence as we ate. Travis and Jill devoured pretty much all the bacon but I bit my tongue to hold back any rude comments bubbling inside me.

Jill takes care of our empty, dirty plates and sets them in the sink, humming as she did so.

"I heard scratching last night. What was it?" I ask curiously as I kinda help clean up the table.

Jill stops washing the dishes and turns around slowly. "S-Scratching? What scratching?" Her smile was as fake as a Barbie doll's. Travis stays calm, taking his wife's hand tightly in his, looking her in the eyes. "Honey, I think she's talking about the ventilation system." I can't help the feeling that when he says ventilation system he means something else. Why is it I'm always stuck with the psychopaths?

Jill nods along with it and bites her bottom lip. A nervous habit I suppose. "It's nothing to worry about, Grace." Travis smiles and gently rubs his wife's back.

Everything was making me suspicious from then on. For lunch we had steak (which the couple happily ate almost two full slabs) and for dinner they didn't eat anything while I stuffed my face with pizza. They just went through mail and bills.

"Why aren't you eating?" I ask as I wipe my hands and mouth on a paper napkin.

"Oh Travis has a uh.. high intolerance to cheese," Jill and her fake smile. It irritates the shit out of me when she does that. "And I ate something earlier." It bothers me that I think they're keeping secrets. It makes my skin crawl. High intolerance to cheese my ass! They have a weird thing with food, I swear.

After dinner, I start exploring the rather big house. Most of the walls were painted a dull, pale yellow, but it gives the house a comfortable feel to it. I'd rather have the yellow in my room rather than that ugly pink. Maybe I could ask for them to paint it to spare the next owner's eyesight, since I'll be here less than a week now. Hopefully.

I find a room I haven't explored and enter it with precautions, tippy toeing into the dark room and closing the door behind me. If I get caught in a place I'm not supposed to be in I could get into some serious trouble, not that they would care or anything because they just HAVE to stay perfect for me. They haven't had one slip up yet. Not one tiny mistake. It's so weird to me. My last foster parents didn't go two days until blowing up at me. I accidentally broke a vase that was supposedly an ancient family heirloom. Oops?