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Repition

Chapter One-----------------------------------------------------------------

“Here I go again,” I say to one in particular, being that no one was in my room except my thoughts and I. Grabbing my last little cary on piece of luggage and backpack I take the stairs two at a time.  Waving good bye and smiling my fake smile at the "family" just to get no reply. I don't know why I try. The family, stereo typical to all horror movies, they just stare at me, blank stares. Well thanks for the gaping holes to watch me go, as always. I think to myself. I look up at the sky and feel a raindrop fall on my shoulder, looks like God has decided to cry with me today. I recall all the numerous stories and tall tales my mom had told me as a small child to get me to spike my interest in religion, so I would be accepted by the rest of the family. Yeah, those were the days. I catch myself smiling for an instant too long, a little half smile. Memories did that for me, brought back who I really was. Made reality less cruel. Pulling up my jack sleeve as it began to shrug off my thin bare shoulders, I slide my hood on as I crouch into the back of the CYFD vehicle. The movements so normal and remembered by my muscles it’s like it’s been rehearsed. At least this time it was her, and not the men in suits. They wore sun glasses to cover their eyes, even when it was a cloudy day. I will never understand that.  I sigh, my thoughts back to the present moment,  and can’t help but just seem disappointed in myself again.  I feel silent meaningless tears run down my cheeks and  out of my eyes without permission. I'm sucked out of reality for a moment, imagining my tears being put under arrest for non-conceptual crying; wondering what tear jail would look like. 

                “Hey there kiddo, what do I say every time? It’s not your fault love,” Sherry says, turned around in the driver’s side seat, looking at me huddled up in the corner of the car, now hugging my knees in the fetal position. She struggles to get her hand untangled from the seat belt and attempts to squeeze my shoulder in compassion, as Sherry has done many times. I shrug my shoulder away, not wanting to be touched. 

“Hailey, come on…You’re not helping anyone by being sorry for yourself.”

Sherry has been here for me the logest, but sometimes she can get on my nerves. Always telling me how I can or cannot feel. They're my emotions. I feel bad though, she does have a point. I sit up straight and wipe my runny nose, scooting toward the center in the back seat.

“Yes, I know. I’ll be fine,” I say, and smile at her in the rear view mirror.My make up is smeared all over my face, I look emo as shit. Finally I allow our eyes to lock, and I can see her face lighten up. Ah, Sherry…Probably the only one who looks at me like that. It’s refreshing really, to have someone look at me to be more than just a paycheck by the government. Yup, I am a person to her. I pat her shoulder a couple of times, to show I recognize her great effort to comfort me.

                Sitting back in my seat, I grab my tattered up ear buds out of my pocket. Trying to undo the endless ear bud knots with one hand I begin the tiring search for a good song to fit the mood. Glancing briefly at the letters at the tip of the ear buds to see which one goes in which ear, I zone out the world and all its troubles with R&B hits of the 80’s. remembering how one of my past teachers said I was born in the wrong era. Almost asleep I can feel my eyelids growing heavy, thanks to the rhythmical feel of the long stretch of road under the car, I can’t help but think that there’s still hope. Even after everything, there’s still hope out there in the world.

After a few hours I am momentarily blinded by the evening sun setting off in the distance. I decided it was a mistake to open my eyes and desperately try to go back to sleep.

“Oh, well there she is!” I hear Sherry’s chipper voice, sounds like she is practically screaming those words at me. 

“Ya know, my music stops playing after an hour of no activity,” I say, pulling out my ear buds and wadding them back up in the palm of my hand.  I wink at her, knowing an apology would be coming next.

“Oopsy daisy..” She pauses, cheeks reddening, she places a hand over her mouth shyly and continues, “You kids and your technology these days, I just can't keep up. Sorry about that hun.” Sherry's voice seems to be in a higher pitch then it was, more lady like les down to earth like, I think to myself. 

“Um, Sherry, everything okay?” I ask, not really sure I want  to know the answer.

Just as she is about to answer, a tall limber looking man walks up to the door and yanks on the handle,  rocking the whole car. Sherry’s attention on me is gone that fast.

“Oh, sorry darling!” She shouts out her side window, quickly unlocking the door with a click of a button, “There, try it now!”

He grunts, and pulls again, this time being rewarded by the creak of the door opening. I feel bad for the door, it’ never asked if it wants to opened. Let alone the chairs, everyone is just using them. They’re sat on by everyone’s butts all day. Not to mention when someone-

“Oof!” I exhale loudly as a suit case jabs me in the side, my thought process interrupted. 

“Oh my god, Henry! Be careful!” Sherry says, smacking this so called Henry in the bicep.

“Well I thought the kid had it,” He said, then looking back at me he puts out his hand for me to shake.

“The Names Henry, Sorry kid. Had a long day at work. Cherish your childhood, because boy do I wish I could go back and be your age again. What are you, 12?” He says, and kind of looks at me weird, raising an eyebrow when I don’t shake his hand right away.

“Names Wez, Hailey Wez,” I say, ignoring his age comment. I pinch  his pointer finger; refusing to shake his filthy hand. Apparently he saw the disgust in my face, and begins to clap his hands together causing the little car to fill with dust; only thing that makes your hands that dirty is, well, dirt. so I'm guessing Henry guy works in a line of construction since he doen't look the agriculture type. 

Coughing, Sherry looks at me in the rear view mirror. This man is just another one of her short term boy toys. That’s one thing that makes me regret getting close to Sherry at one point, reminiscence on the time I was the shoulder she cried on when her last marriage went south. I just shake my head, and look away from the mirror pretending I didn’t catch her glance. Everyone has their weaknesses I suppose.  Sherry just could never stray from the attracting the wrong kind of man. Mine was that no one wanted me. Not even my own parents. A violent shudder racks my body and I clear my head of suck thoughts. I hear Sherry starting to introduce Henry and me properly, but I just slip my ear buds back in and nuzzle my head into the seat belt welcoming sleep once again.

NA/ Hey guys! This is a new piece I'm starting on, sorry if the first chapter is kinda short, the rest gets better. This story is a little closer to home, so hopefully some of you can relate in one way or another. Remember, Vote-read...Comment(?) All that good stuff. Thanks! ~Lynndsey