Not the Role Model Type

Two

You still couldn't believe you'd been living here for a couple years. You've lived on the streets, and upgraded to a shitty shady apartment. Then you upgraded to a sketchy duplex with drug addicts for neighbors, then? After the second time of being adopted? An estate. A manor. A mansion. Those all mean the same thing, true. But it was all so overwhelming to you, at first it was anyways.
Even more so, it was in a long line of estates. The manor you lived at was a long field and patch of trees and woodland away from none other than Wayne manor. There was probably at the most three houses in the long line of expensive homes, you never walked down the road to check. Too much woods. Your mom said it was too dangerous anyways, recalling the one time you snuck out at night to explore and got bit by a bat when you found an empty cave next to a hoard of trees. Not as empty as you thought.  The hospital visit was not fun. By this visit you also found out there was a long line of caves in the area, it was mostly hidden by the massive amounts of trees that separated each manor. In was in no way a walk between each estate. To much time, too much distance. you found this out the hard way too, trying to egg Wayne manor on Halloween two years ago with some of your friends.

Yea, not exactly the snobby rich kid type you are. you may live in a big house, lots of money into the family, but it was in no way rubbed off on you. You still had your street kid habits from beforehand. Something that annoyed your older brother immensely. Which is ironic, seeing as he's on the police force in Gotham's finest,  the GCPD.

Your adoptive father worked in metropolis, under LexCorp. Your adoptive mother worked here, an author with several books out in her name so far. You had a younger sister, she was maybe a couple months younger than you. But she doesn't live in the estate with you, your adoptive parents, and the brother that lived here before you did.

The family here, had two children. You got along with one of them. Terms and conditions may apply, but at least it wasn't dysfunctional. Out of all the homes and foster places you've lived, you've never had any siblings. Sometimes it felt nice to hang an older brother, and sometimes it pissed you off.

"Always do the right thing, don't do that! It's bad for your health!" You said in a high pitched voice, mocking his words as the thought of him crossed your mind. He could be so annoying and so righteously correct.

"What an idiot. I could have turned out worse." You muttered, going to the fridge and yanking out a cold beer, pressing the lid to the edge of the counter by your side and yanking the bottle down. The metal cap flying off the bottle and hitting the glass window, causing your mouth to purse shut and eyes to widen.

It didn't break, or crack.

You sighed in relief, the dim lights illuminating the grey marble countered kitchen just enough for you to see where it landed. You walked over, bare feet striding against the hard red tiled floor with a gold-like color lining each tile. Picking up the lid and tossing it into the metal trash can.

You made your way out of the kitchen and walked into your study room, tearing off your softball team T-shirt and standing clad in a sports bra and a pair of leggings and sneakers. A cold beer in your hands as you held it by the neck and took a long drink. Usually you had an older friend buy this stuff for you, knowing full well your parents would not and your older brother would arrest you if he wasn't your brother. But this time it was one of your dad's, and he's always so busy you're sure he won't notice one missing bottle.

The grey and red sports bra adorned a black zipper in the front, which you quickly undid before grabbing a T-shirt off of your big office chair and slinging it on over your shoulders, the length going just above your knees. You kicked off your sneakers next to your bra on the floor and continued to pull your leggings down, opening your laptop and logging into your private account.