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Wednesday 7/1/11

They laid out a gray button down shirt and blue jean shorts that went to my waist. Luckily, they had agreed to wash my binder of the blood, so i could at least have that. I had a small bag over my shoulder that held the few things i actually cared about. I was not allowed electronics so I couldn't bring my laptop. This made me worry about how i'm going to tell Jensen about all of this, that should be a fun story. I decided to push that out of my mind as i was about to get in a car and drive to a place that would be my home until i turned eighteen. 

I had no hopes of getting adopted. I was a sixteen year old beaten "girl" with mental problems. Also, people adopt babies and it's very unlikely for a child over the age of three to even get adopted, let alone a sixteen year old "girl." The car i was in smelled of car gas and was running so low to the ground i barely had to lift my foot to step in. The car had a slight sweet smell to it as if the driver had sprayed perfume just moments before. The driver was a man with coarse white hair tugged back in a pony tail. The creases from his smile, and various other facial expressions, are now dominant and could be seen from a mile away. He kept quiet and didn't even say a word when i said thank you before getting out of his cab. 

As i got out i saw a long brink building. The brick was old and the door's hinges were rusted. All the building's around it were clearly abandoned and it gave me this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach to run. Despite the feeling, i creaked open the door peaking my head in to see if there were someone waiting for me. I stepped all the way in, closing the door lightly, trying not to make a sound. The walls were cement brick with a light eggshell yellow coating it. A few feet in from of me, the hall opened up to a right turn but also kept going straight. I had no idea where to go and i could feel the nerves in my stomach spark up. I said hello softly hoping someone would here me. A man walks up to me. He shakes my hand and i can feel the sweat on his palms. 

Apparently the mans name is Eric and he is a sixteen year old orphan like me. He guided me down the wide hallways until we came to a dark brown door. I walked in and the person inside motioned for me to sit down. the woman addressed me with clear rules and told me what would absolutely not be tolerated. Despite the fact that i was feet away from her, I could still feel the spit that flew from her lips. She was harsh and mean and I didn't understand why. I nodded not saying a word, before getting up and heading to the elevator where i would go to floor two, room 19. 

I opened the door and saw two twin sized beds places in a large room with white walls and dark brown floors. The room lit yellow as i turned on the light switch. One bed was clear to have been slept in and the other was merely a sheet and  a pillow. I laid my bad on the empty bed and sat down, taking in all of my surroundings. These past few weeks have gone by so fast I've barely had time to breath. I could see the sun setting out the two windows at the far wall. The door opened and a little girl that looked about six walked into my room gasping. She jumped and yipped clearly excited. Her brown hair was pulled into pigtails with bright bluw bows. She was wearing a dark blue shirt and a black skirt that went to her knees. My eyebrow raised as she hugged me ever so tightly. 

Amanda Roli was a sweet six year old girl who i shared a room with. She was perky, but fun and always cheerful which was a pleasant surprise in this place. I have discovered a lot in the month i have been here. We are slaves not orphans. We do what the woman in charge says or we are put in the basement. The basement is a cold cell filled floor to cieling in cememnt. There is no heating, there is no food, just the sounds of the feet from the girls above you. You stay in that celar until you are about to die from starvation. This place is cruel. This is worse than my life with my mom and i would do anything to get these kids, and myself, as far away from here as possible. 

Floor one was was for the woman herself and her most prized pets. Children who had completely given up on the feeling that they deserve better and that had just excepted their fates as slaves. Floor two was for us newbies and brats who wouldn't give up on our fight to get away from this place. There is two sides to me as i like to call it. When i am getting hurt, i will not stand up to you, I will convince myself i deserve it and that nothing is wrong just like the kids on floor one, but when i have to watch you hurt innocent people besides myself, that's where i cross the line. I am not giving up on these kids no matter what. I may lay awake at night and cry, I may want to just give up sometimes because of that cold cellar, but when i see the look in these kids eyes, I cant just lay back and let it happen. I will get out of here and all i need is the woman's cellphone.