Fatal Instincts (Book 1, the Fatal Trilogy Series)

Chapter 4.

           

The first time I let someone in, I was fourteen years old.

His name was Trent and at the time it just kind of made sense that we'd be together because he got me when no one else did. There weren't too many kids fighting to hang out with the weird orphan girl who switched schools every semester depending on which foster home she was in at the time.

"No one understands us but us." He'd whispered to me the first night we kissed under the stairs in the foster home we shared.

I use the term home very loosely. The old bitch filled her house with as many kids as the state would allow and then left us to fend for ourselves. I barely came home, and she never noticed.

Even at fourteen though I'd had no misconceptions that life would turn out all hunky-dory in the end. I knew I'd never get adopted and I didn't allow myself to hope for a semi-decent foster family either. It just was what it was and I went with it.

"Kids!" The old hag would always scream at us, never bothering to learn our names. Not that it mattered much to me. I didn't care at all, I'd basically been nameless since birth anyhow.

My crack head of a mother who had no family and my "unknown" father hadn't bothered to even give me a name before they were signing over their rights to me. I was named by a random nurse who just so happened to be working that night. I didn't even get one of their last names. Barnes was also chosen by the nurse who had a thing for the sitcom Judy Barnes.

I just count myself lucky I didn't get the Judy part too.

Trent was the first good thing to ever happen to me.

He was my first everything, really.

"I'm so happy I found you." "I'd be lost without you." "You're everything to me"

All the horrible shit you say when you're young, dumb, and in love.

"I knew one day something had to go right for me." I'd smiled like a happy little idiot the first time we'd slept together. "I love you."

"You're my special girl." He'd whispered back. "I'm so lucky."

I knew he was wrong. I was the lucky one, not him. I was the girl who wasn't wanted, but yet, he did want me. For the first time in my life I felt special. Like I mattered. Like I could be something to someone, and I'd counted myself to be the luckiest girl in all of the world to have found someone who would love me.

Two months later though, he turned eighteen, and he was ready to go.

I told myself I understood. That it didn't change anything. I told myself I was happy for him, he was actually able to get up and leave, no longer in the system like me. He was free. Of course he should leave me behind.

"Will you come back to visit?" I'd asked, standing on the porch and watching him load all of the bitch's stuff into the trunk of his car.

He'd come to me, leaning down to kiss me hard against the railing. "I'd never forget you, babe." He smiled, and I smiled because of course he wouldn't. I was his special girl. "You don't have to worry, I'll be back for you."

I was fourteen. I was stupid. I believed him.

I believed all of the little lies. That I was special, that I was anybody.

Every sweet little whisper in my ear while we laid naked together, every touch of the hand, every look, every promise...I'd believed them all.

I'd waited six months, wondering when he'd be back. Then I'd cried for another two months before I finally accepted that he wasn't coming back. Of course not.

The only ones who come back are the ones you don't want to.

A lesson I learned the hard way.