West Brooke High

12

Flashback
Alissa and Alexis. My twin sisters. Age 7 at the time of my mums passing. They are identical twins and looked like my dad, with light blue eyes and blonde hair.

My uncles and aunties had finished paying of my fathers debts. You see, my dad somehow managed to make it seem as though my mum committed suicide. When I tried to explain what happened, my dad told them that as a kid, I wouldn't understand what actually happened and they believed him because he was my legal guardian.

I stayed with Chris's family for a few weeks. My dad had also moved out and he took Alissa and Alexis with him. He let me stay with Chris to "clear my head" but my head has never been cleared since that day. I was drowned in silence and never spoke unless questioned with important questions for a few months. I couldn't stop replying the feeling of horror.

During the town I stayed with Chris, my dad had gotten arrested and that meant Alexis, Alissa and I wee put through the fostering system. We, however, weren't allowed to be together. Alexis and Alissa were together and I, well I was a lone wolf. I, also, couldn't protect them all the time. But, I could be third guardian angel from time to time.
We also weren't allowed to live in that particular area, especially me, because it could "trigger" unwanted feeling and emotions. This meant I couldn't live with any of my aunts or uncles.

My sisters, being young and innocent, followed the rules. They listened. They stayed with their designated families. When they were told to move, they did so.
I, on the other hand, hated being in someone else's house. After school, I would say I was going to the library or something, but I would actually go back to the house I grew up in. I used to return to the neighbourhood that threatened to change my life. The house became a ghost house. No one had enough guts to enter the house apart from myself. It was written in the will, that if both my parents died, the house would be mine and my sisters. One was physically dead and the other one was dead to me. But I couldn't stay away. It was my house. My home. My memories. And a reminder.
The house became alive. Shadows were lurking in the walls. An eerie atmosphere was hanging everywhere. Darkness consumed each and every corner. But it was still home.

I could almost see my mum baking her famous chocolate cake. My father running after Alexis and Alissa. I would be sitting in the kitchen, complaining about the noise, as I try to study.

Or the memory when I was younger. I was 10 and the twins were 3. Dad had just come home and mum had finished making dinner. We were going to eat grilled chicken with boiled vegetables. Dad gave mum a kiss on the cheek and mum blushed and smiled her goofy smile. They made oogly eyes at each other and I pretended to not notice. But I did. Just them small gestures. And at that young age, I thought that their love story would be completed with a happy ending.

Or the memory when I was 7 and mum came home with one baby in her arms and dad held another. Dylan and auntie Becca has come to stay with me, whilst my mum and dad weren't home. Mum had a huge smile on her face and I saw my sisters for the first time and I hugged my mum and dad and I never really fully understood babies because they never did anything, but I knew one thing for sure. I loved them. I made a promise that day. I promised to always protect them.

Or the memory when I was 4 and dad put my hair into two pigtails and it was my first day at school. He then gave me a gift bag and I excitedly opened the gift and there it was. My first ever leather jacket. I hugged it and I emphasised to my dad how much I loved it. I wore it every single day after that until I grew out of it and dad had to buy me a new one.

Whilst looking around the house, I would snoop around at old letters and I went through my mums and dads closet. I need information. Information on what? Well I wasn't too sure but I needed something. I guess, in my confused state, I needed closure.

I found a box, hidden away in my mums closet. The box was glittery and silver. I turned the box upside down, and my name was written there. Maya Queen. I instantly knew that this was some form of a present because my mum did that for everyone. It was kinda her thing to put her gist in a glittery box and write the name of the receiver under it.
I opened the box and in there lay a note. Below the note was a black leather jacket. The leather jacket I wear to this day.

Then I saw a chest. I opened the chest and in there lay journals. Journals of different size and colours. The perfect opportunity to find closure and to find out about my mum and dad and their lives.

—
A few moths passed and I had the worst experiences at foster homes. I just didn't settle. I didn't feel at ease and I didn't feel at home. I was rebellious, rude and abrupt in the Jones I was taken to. I hated the fact that people were trying to act like my mum and dad, but the couldn't. No one could replace them. No one can replace them. I guess my dad did what he did but still, people pretending to be my dad? That just hurt.
I used to shout and scream and leave the house without any permission. I used to swear, put on loud music and lock my self in my room. That's why I moved from house to house to house. I guess I couldn't blame anyone but my self.

I was never a bad student though. I always excelled in all my classes. Sure I got detentions every now and then and I had a bad reputation but I was a straight A student so the teachers didn't care.

I stopped going to the house because the neighbourhood got worse and worse. I still remember the day I returned back to the house and all the windows were broken, bullet holes overtook the door and the plants had outgrown and and weed started to grow. The people still knew me but never acknowledged me. To them I was the daughter of the murderer. The abuser. The mental psychopath. Nicky stopped talking to me and Arron was the only true friend I had. When I transferred schools, he'd follow me. Vowing to protect me. I never told the complete truth to anyone. The most people got from me was that I was in care.

Noah, Liam and I used to hang out ever Friday. On one particular Friday, I was told that I was going to be transferred again. I wasn't told where. I wasn't told to whom I was going to. All I knew was that I had to pack my bags. Noah, Liam and I were going to the skatepark and I told them I was transferring again and that's when they told me. They had somehow persuaded their dad, Andrew, to let me stay with them for a little while. See how I get along. See if I settle there.

A few months later, Andrew has adopted me. But I refused to change my name to Maya Michelson. So I kept my name. Maya Queen.

Finally, a home I was settled in and with my real family. A home a saw a constant light in. A constant warmth I hadn't felt in months.