Unnamed

Uncomfortable, Very Uncomfortable.

Thunder, pitch black clouds. Despite the weather, Silva "Sandy" Dustin was still sitting at the beach. Ever since her parents left her and she left them, she always felt great comfort watching the waves wash up. Even though they liked the beach, they didn't like it nearly as much as she did. Sandy still tuned out the memories. The rain started to drip down onto her, so she grabbed her rusty bike and headed to her foster family's house. She had to stop, as the weather became bad and she couldn't see in front of herself. She stopped at the grocery store to catch her breath, wait out the storm, and run some errands for her family. Sandy browsed the aisles but didn't find what she needed. Since it was next door, Sandy couldn't help but go into the music store.

She had such a passion for playing music, and always wanted to write songs. When she was little, her family banned music from the house. Sandy was never brought up around music, just a precious metal her family adored. Hence her birth name, Silva, which she hadn't heard in years. She stepped up into the music store, taking in the smell of the vintage sheet music pages. She dragged her hands across the brass strings of the wooden instruments, wishing she had one of her own. The owner of the store asked if he could help her, but Sandy shook her head out of disappointment. She walked to the back where the ukulele and guitar room was; there weren't many left. Walking farther into the depths of the room, she spotted a man hunched in the corner with a notebook. Her heart sank, her hands trembled, and she got a lump in her throat. A striking silver eye reflected the light.

A silver eye that only ran in her biological family. She stopped and stared, forgetting she hadn't put in her color-changing contacts that morning. Sandy started to run in the opposite direction, but the man grasped her wrist. It was her biological father. She could feel his icy silver eyes burning through the back of her neck, waiting for her to turn around. Sandy's eyes started to fill with tears. They looked like glass when she turned toward her father. He released his hand from her wrist, spilling his papers on the ground. He cupped his former daughter's face in his hands. Sandy jerked away and ran for her bike, hot tears flooding her face. The weather had gotten worse, but she had to get away from that man. For years she had thought her biological family was gone; she never would have guessed that they were right around the corner.