Dahlia Nova Leighton.
That's my name, yeah I know it's a mouthful but most people call me Doll. I don't entirely hate it but I didn't think of the silly name though, an old friend gave it to me teasingly and it stuck. I'm slowly beginning to rethin...
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That's my name, yeah I know it's a mouthful but most people call me Doll. I don't entirely hate it but I didn't think of the silly name though, an old friend gave it to me teasingly and it stuck. I'm slowly beginning to rethink my life and who I am. What's real. What isn't real. I'm not who I thought I was. I cant tell if I am lightness or darkness. I just know where I go pain and darkness follows like a shadow over me. I'm unsure if the darkness, this shadow over my life, is my own shadow or someone else's. Maybe I'm just bad luck. Or maybe I'm insane, I swear sometimes things I dream of are all too unreal yet they linger in my mind like an old memory slightly out of touch and distorted. I dream of wings on my back and fire in my hands. People made of light, and others made of darkness. I dream of people to strong to be people. I dream but I never speak of my dreams. Such things cant be real, what is real? My life. Being tossed from home to home. Nobody wants a 17 year old girl with a dark shadow hung above her head.
I lose my train of thought as the car comes to a halt in front of an old house with tattered paint and grass as brown as the bark of a tree, it still had an odd charm to it though. Like an old lady in her Sunday church dress the house looked old and slightly unkempt but sweet and inviting. With these thoughts still turning in my mind I exhaled a shaky breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding in. I looked over to Mrs. Norah, she is the oldest friend I have. She is in fact the person who first called me Doll, I love her very much even though she is only my social worker she means a lot to me. She has been the only steady thing in my life, always there to pick me back up when yet another family cant bear my bad luck anymore. She has asked me so many times to if I would like to come live with her but I answer her the same every time, 'I would love to Mrs. Norah, but I cant, I don't want to bring darkness into your life, I love you way to much to do that you." and she will usually object and tell me I am not darkness and that she understands why I am scared of such a notion.
I stepped out of the car and as I did the trunk popped open, I slowly made my way to the back of the car and took out my worn out backpack. It was slightly too heavy for me but I hoisted on to my back anyways as I reached for the other bag, my largest one, the plump, but little, social worker had made her way to the back of the car.
(Mrs. Nora pictured below)
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