Broken ∞ [One Direction Fan-Fiction]

Prologue

Prologue

I push open the all too familiar doors to the adoption center with my suitcase right behind. I pull it on it's wheels back to my usual room. I peek inside, cautious of Adrianna, my room-mate. I throw my bag onto the top bunk and turn to Adrianna.

"Hi." She waves and returns to her TigerBeat magazine.

I turn and walk out into the lobby. The receptionist Wendy waves with a bright smile, but I continue to the nearest window. I prop myself in the wide windowsill and hug the worn out green pillow. My arms practically rubbed the vibrant color away, leaving a stripe across the middle. I lean my head against the window and  watch the Smiths drive away. My lip involuntarily puffs out more as I let out a deep sigh and let the lingering feel of rejection eat at my insides.

I can hear Wendy talking to the mistress, but only faintly. I can make out a couple words such as, again, great, and lots of cussing. I flutter my eyes, trying to contain my tears that burned the back of my throat and made my stomach tighten. I bit my both my lips in between my teeth before releasing with a shaky whimper. I curl more into the corner of the window and press myself against the glass.

Why can't I find the perfect family? Is 7 years not long enough? 7 long years of depression, hatred, and rejection. Why can't I just be happy? How is this God's plan for me? No importance to my life. I'm worthless to everybody here. I'll be here until I'm withered and gray. Still in this windowsill with the closest things to my childhood memories. Watching happy couples take a stroll through the middle of town with their child skipping around their feet. Why can't that be me? I never had a childhood. I can't even remember the last time I had actually been 'happy.' Not even with my old family. 

Memories flood back and my eyes fight the tears sitting on my eyelids. The whipping. The clanking. The screams. The laughter. It's like I'm reliving it all. The reason why I wear long sleeve shirts and long pants everyday. 

Is that what normal families do? Beat their children with both ends of the belt, until their clothes can't even cover the scars? Make every day a living hell? I'm sure they aren't. But I'm not normal. I never have been. Maybe that's why everybody hates me.

The emotional scarring haunts me 24/7. My nightmares have me toss and turn, crying my heart out into my pillow. Blocking out everyone and everything is a habit, not even thinking before ignoring and pushing another human being away. Like they would ever actually care. They get you attached, caring and waiting hand and foot. Then break away as if nothing more than a mobile pest. 

"Hannah, dear, it's time for lunch." Wendy rests her fingertips on my back. I don't move, just look at the passing cars and trees I've watched grow. "Hannah." Her voice gives me the impression that she's not up for my stubbornness. I sigh and look up at her. "Come on." she coaxes.

I tear my self away from the window and set the pillow down. She forces me at a faster pace by pressing against my shoulder. I feel a single tear curve over my eyelashes and drip down my face, leaving a moist trail on my skin.

~Izzy