Dangerous Beauty

Prologue

I never asked for this. I never asked to be abandoned by my foster parents and taken in by my third aunt. I never wanted to know about the dark side of the human mind, I just wanted a normal, content existence. But sometimes we don't get what we want.

My name's Miranda, Miranda Staple, and three years ago I was adopted at the age of twelve by nice man and woman who were the first people in awhile that actually seemed to care about me. I had been living in an orphanage since I was two, too young to remember the things that could help me now; where I came from, we're my real parents, where the rest of my birth family is. And why, I often asked myself, have none of them come forward to rescue me?

That was the main topic of my thoughts for most of my foster child years, I wasn't an unruly girl but I guess my aura was off because no one wanted to adopt me. I was actually happy when I first hit puberty, it meant I'd be prettier in a grown-up sort of way and maybe someone would finally want me as their kid. Then they came along; Andrea and Nick Staple, I could've sworn I heard angels sing when they took me away.

Then the world fell silent when they left. 

I was fourteen when it happened, home alone and reading. Fairytales had been an old favorite of mine and I was sitting in a chair with the Brothers Grimm in my lap. Neither mom or dad had called but at the time I didn't think it suspicious because they didn't call or anything unless they were texting me to get to bed. Feeling my eyelids droop, I closed my book and went to bed early. I got into my favorite pair of peppermint-striped pajamas and retired to my queen bed with a Harley Quinn fleece blanket over the black and white sheets. I remember the way I drifted off to sleep, thanking the world as I always did that I had a bed to call my own and a roof over my head.

Only to wake up and find they still weren't home. To sum things up a bit, I called the police after I had breakfast and got dressed while waiting for them to arrive. They came and asked some expected questions; Do your parents usually stay out this late? Do you have any siblings? Is there any place you could stay until they're found? The last question I didn't have an answer to.

So I stayed in police custody for two months while they looked for my parents, waiting and hoping they turned up. By the time they found my aunt Ellie and arranged for me to stay with her, the hope had been blown out, leaving me an empty shell of remorse and anger. Depression was like a weed inside me; growing consistently and always coming back. My only relief seemed to be cutting my ankles, why I never went for my wrists I don't think I'll ever know.

I started dressing up, to mask my emptiness, and interestingly enough I grew more and more beautiful as the years went on. And I'm not saying that to brag because I had no idea why I looked fine on the outside while in the inside I felt like shit, in my opinion, they should've matched. But they didn't, so here I am.

I never wanted any of this to happen, but some things in life can never be explained. And if there's one thing aunt Ellie taught me, purely accidentally by the way, it's that you shouldn't waste your energy on the past when the future's staring you in the face.