Hope

Chapter One

I blankly stare at the familiar peach walls- that I've grown to hate- as I try to ignore my psychiatrist's ringing voice.

According to my uncle, Jeff, I needed help. I've tried to convince him that I'm fine, but apparently my actions prove otherwise.

But what did they expect from a sixteen year old girl who had watched her parents being brutally murdered right in front of her by a person who claimed to be her aunt?

“Kathryn.” My eyes snap to Dr. Seuss's blue eyes. “You've hardly said a word since we've started. We're supposed to be communicating.” Her voice was annoyingly soft.

“Are we?” I shift uncomfortably on the leather chair.

“Yes. How am I supposed to help you if you do not talk to me?”

“I'm talking now, aren't I? And for the record, I do not need help.”

“Kathryn, you need to accept that you need help.” Her eyes were full of concern.

I roll my eyes. Even if I did need help, I think I'd do without listening to people pretend to be interested on my well-being.

She sighed- for what must have been the tenth time this hour- and got up. She walked to her glass window that showed a massive view of the small city. You could see a part of the lake that narrowed down to a small river that flowed throughout the city.

I might have found it beautiful if I still had an eye for beauty.

“Come join me, Kathryn.” She waved her hand, beckoning me to join her.

“I'd rather not.”

She turned to look at me with weary eyes. “You're very stubborn.” She stated.

“I think we're done here.” I say, rising from my chair.

She glanced at her watch. “Yes, I believe we are.” She smiled weakly. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

I nod my head as I throw my bag over my shoulder. I bolt out of the room I find suffocating, taking deep breaths of fresh air.

I scan the parking lot, looking for Jeff's blue toyota. My eyes eventually land on a boy a couple of yards away.

His looks were certainly striking, but his stare weirded me out too much to find him attractive.

Our eyes lock for a couple of seconds before I shake my head and walked up to him.

“Hi.” I said when I reached him.

“Hello.” The corner of his mouth moved up, revealing the hint of a smirk.

“Did you find anything interesting?” I ask, readjusting my bag on my shoulder.

“What?” Confusion washed over his forest green eyes, which were only a shade lighter than mine.

“You were staring at me.” I explain.

“I was.” He grinned, revealing perfect white teeth.

“Why?”

“Was I not suppose to?”

“Didn't your parents ever tell you it's rude to stare?”

“No. They were never around to do so.” He stopped grinning but his eyes still held a hint of amusement.

“Are you expecting me to be sympathetic? Because if you are, you'll be rather disappointed.”

He chuckled. It wasn't a horrible sound. “I'm not looking for sympathy.”

“What are you looking for?”

“You.” His grin faded and his eyes darkened, which made me take a step back, partially because of fear. I was warned about talking to strangers.

I hurried to collect myself and straightened up. “What is this, a treasure hunt?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Treasure hunt?” His eyes drifted away for a moment and a thoughtful looked took over his face (that I now consider as perfect). “I guess you can say that.”

His eyes suddenly snapped back to mine and they darkened once again.

An odd feeling rose within me as sudden heat coursed through my veins.

I felt as if I should-

A loud honk startled me, making me jump. I tear my eyes away from his to find Jeff's car a few cars down, parked in a very odd position.

I shake my head to clear the thick fog that has started to build in my head.

“I'll see you around.” My voice was unrecognizable to my own ears.

He smiled a crooked smile. “You will.” He turned around and I did the same, jogging to Jeff's car.

I opened the door and hopped in.

“What?” I asked when I noticed the growing cheesy grin plastered on his face, his ocean blue eyes held a hint of hope.

“Who was that you were to talking to.” He jerked his backward.

“I don't know.” I answer honestly.

“Come on, tell me.” He wiggled his eyebrows which made him look like a nerdy twelve year old boy asking a girl if she shaved her legs, thinking it was the most intimate question there is to ask.

“I don't know him, Jeff.” I snap.

He sighed and a frown replaced his grin.

I guess I ought to feel guilty for how I've been treating him ever since his wife killed my parents.

But why should I feel guilty when he brought the monster disguised as a human being into the family? If it wasn't for her my parents would still be alive and I'd actually be happy.

One thing's for sure; I may be a lot of things but happy will never be one of them.