The Girl Who Cried Wolf

Prologue

Nothing like waking up in a pool of my own blood...

Why hello there. My name is Stella but everyone calls me freak. Plain, simple and very heart warming. They could at least have been creative...

I am honestly nothing special. Well except my senses are heightened more than normal. For example I can smell things the average person normally can't. It's probably nothing, maybe I'm just imagining it. But then again I'm not average. In fact I'm below average.

I have long brown hair that is naturally wavy. I have gold eyes- that's one reason why everyone calls me a worthless freak but after hearing it for so long, it doesn't effect me like it should. I have a small frame and a height of 5'5 to match. I don't complain, I like myself. Ha if only other people shared the same perspective. But no unfortunately life's a bitch... To me anyway.

Back to the blood... Yeah that was caused by my wonderful family! Well nonbiological family. No I'm not an alien, I was adopted. I frequently get beatings from them. Now I just learn to get them over with; so the best thing to do is to stay out of the way and keep my mouth shut. Unfortunately on the rare occasion I do mess up- which is a lot, the beatings can get out of hand. It doesn't hurt that bad anymore, I mainly just feel numb.

I don't wish for a family that loves me or any of that stuff because I don't need that. What I have now is fine. It's not like I can go anywhere; besides these people aren't totally heartless. They give me food, shelter, a bed and a place to call home. It's not much but it's enough.

Not everything is bad here. In fact, my seventeenth birthday is in a week! Squeal! Let me explain or show you rather that is just isn't an ordinary birthday, yes I'm turning 17, but there's more. Things I don't quite understand, but I do believe they can lead me toy home. My real home...

I peel myself off the floor slowly. I don't want to but curiosity gets the best of me and I find myself assessing the damage. I've had worse but it's still not pretty. Bruises of various colors decorate my body ranging in different sizes. The deep cuts from the glass ooze trails of blood along my arms, torso and legs. There is a large gash on my lip and I can feel the back off head- very painfully might I add- throbbing. All in all I don't feel to great at the moment... Oh what a wonderful world it is!

I continue To drag my battered self up the many flights of stairs leading to my "room" in the attic. After what feels like agonizing hours but only being mere minutes, I finally get there.

Do come in. Don't mind the creaky door or musky odor or creepy whispers the creaking floorboards give you as you walk across them. The peeling white- now almost yellow paint on the walls contrast against the burgundy carpet that has too many mysterious stain- I think one of them is human blood- not mine. My room is still my favorite place in the house because it's the only place I can call entirely mine. Nobody bothers me here. It is my happy place. My bed rests in the corner by the small circular window. Opposite of that is my bathroom. Or should I say bucket. Yeah, you heard correctly. Rusty, old, smelly bucket. Unfortunately I don't have the luxury of a bathroom and I don't get showers often so I have to do my business in a bucket. There are only two reasons I use that bucket... For number 1 and for number 2! Haha get it? No? Shut up? Okay. And these people, my "family" aren't totally barbaric! They give toilet paper; however it's one-ply. Those bastards.

Gracefully dragging myself across the floor I plop down on my bed. Then I roll over resulting in a make-out session with the dusty floor. I guess I'm just irresistible ;). Sitting on my knees I lift up the wooden floorboard and bring out... A box. But not just any box, a blue box. But not just any blue box, a special blue box. But not just any spec- okay fuck it! It's a small, blue tin box my biological mother left me when I was a kid. It's my only connection to my family- my real family. The only reason why I put up with this torture is for them; my real family and this box. In exactly 5 days- 2 before my 17th birthday- this box will open and tell be my destiny. At least I hope so. Watch there be like a used tissue in there or something. Oh that would be wonderful. And the award for best-17th-birthday-present-of-the-year goes to.... Family I've never met! Only five more days till I get some decent toilet paper for my bucket!!!!! Just kidding. I really have no clue what's in that box but whatever it is I have a feeling it will lead me to my real family- where I belong. Only one way to find out... Wait.