The Unwilling

Chapter One- Introduction

Hello! I have returned with something I hope most will like!

This is just an introduction to the concept of the story. Enjoy regardless!

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Looking outside my window, I could see rain pouring down immensely. It was your typical English winter. Rain, rain and more rain. I found it rather therapeutical, how minuscule droplets ran down the window delicately. But I was focused on the scenery from my window. Not the houses. All of the houses in my area looked almost identical. Same colours, same brickwork, even the same letterboxes. The only differences were the pattern of the driveway paving and the types of cars that each person or family had. But outside, in the front garden of one of the houses, was a family. A mother, a father, a brother in his teenage years and a sister a few years younger. They were playing football in the rain, slipping over occasionally and having a look of sincere joy on the faces at all times. They were the Miltons, the infamous family on our block, well-known for being near perfect. The father worked his own business, the mother was a housewife, the brother got straight A's and the little sister was a dancer, who had already won a scholarship to some prestigious dance school. They were the type of family to run annual fundraisers, attend all school events, and their children would always have their lunch boxes packed with fruit and nut bars and all that. I don't know what happens behind closed doors, but what they put on was so perfect in my mind, that I wanted it to be true. I, on the other hand, do not have a perfect family. Or even a dysfunctional family. Or a family at all, for that matter. I was unwanted as a child and was put into foster care pretty much as soon as I was born. I bounce around foster families, getting re-assigned every few months or so, when the parents feel like they've done enough for society and let me go because I'm 'too much.' But in reality, they're just tired of having a roommate. Yeah. A roommate. Each and every family I'm assigned to never treats me as their own. Ever. No exceptions. They just treat me like a person that occupies one of their rooms, eats meals with them, maybe a couple of words are exchanged here and there. Half of the time I expect to have a note on my bed asking for rent. None of them treat me as their own, which I guess is fair, but some effort can be made. I remember one time I was with a family with a daughter a couple of years younger than me, and we were at a local restaurant. When it came to order, the daughter got whatever she wanted, ice cream, fizzy drink and a decent sized meal. And me? The mother ordered me water. That was it. She explained that "I'm not part of the family and that I should be grateful she ordered me that." Just goes to show how lovely some people in the foster system are.

Currently, I'm with the Davidsons. The husband works away, the wife works long shifts seven days a week, and they have no children. They're almost never home, but the wife puts notes on the dining room table with a long list of chores she expects me to do. I'm not really a foster child at this residence, but more a house cleaner. Better than most of the families though.

When will I be with a family that loves me? Accepts me as their own? Acknowledges my existence? Doesn't use me as a maid or treat me like a roommate? Why can't I be in the Milton family?

These are questions that cross my mind every day. Why can't I have a family? It's literally the one thing I've wanted for my whole life. When other kids at Christmas are wishing for bikes and cars and unicorns, I'm wishing for a family. Or at least someone that wants me.

Someone out there. Anyone. Hear my prayers. That's all I want.

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Aaand that's the end of chapter one! I tried to make it longer than last time, but still make it short enough so it doesn't drag on. I hope you enjoyed it!

Feedback is always appreciated! Please let me know what you think!

Until next time,
Buggy 💛xx