The sound of sirens wake me. I bolt up and look around my room. The memory of the previous night clashes around in my head.
Am I finally free?
Is he finally gone?
My heart beats wildly and police come storming in the house. I hear several shouts and the panic sets it. I did it. Two large figures burst into my room and I crawl under my bed, shaking. Their loud footsteps file around me.
"Crawl out from under the bed, with your hands up!" one of the bears roar. I crawl out, tears spilling from my eyes, but I didn't feel anything. Not guilt. Not sadness. Nothing.
"What's going on?" I sob, covering up my lies. One of the them takes off their hat and glasses, revealing a woman. Her face is soft, and she gently puts a hand on my shoulder. I lower my arms. Hey piercing blue eyes seem to stare into my soul.
"Sorry for scaring you sweetie. The neighbors called when they hear shouting." she explained. I freeze and anger gently builds in my stomach. Why call the police now, when every day I get beaten and shouted at? Where those times not important enough for them. The anger fumes inside, swirling in horrid circles. I take shallow breaths.
Her radio buzzes loudly and a crackly voice comes over, reporting my father dead. I force more tears out and fall to my knees. They definitely would have to fall for it now.
"Oh my, it'll be ok, honey" she says to me. Through the sobs, I laugh with glee, but still hide my joy among the tears. That fucking bastard, he's dead. He's dead!
She helps me stand up and I cling to her, trying desperately to hide the random bursts of laughter.
***
The police station is cold. I shiver and grit my teeth, trying to pull the small blanket the female police officer had given me, I had later found out her name was Mrs. Beirling. I jolt up when I feel a hand on my shoulder. It's Mrs. Beirling. Her hair is down, not in the tight bun I first met her. She looks at me, her eyes just as piercing as before. They look so familiar.
"We've called up child services. Hopefully we can find somewhere for you to stay. I'm sorry about your father. We think he died from alcohol poisoning." She sits next to me and rubs myback. "There's still something off about his death though. We're looking into it further." She looks towards me again.
Those eyes. I know, they look just like hers. The faint memory of my mother comforting me after I tripped and skinned my knee, clouds my thoughts, her warm hand on my back. I was only a child, innocent and unknowing. I was only a child, and I didn't know the real meaning of pain.
I close my eyes and softly cry into her shoulder. I can't look at those eyes
***
I've been here for 2 months. The adoption center was quiet. Most of the time I would sit and think about Britney, the way her body was misshapen at the bottom of the stairs. I pictured my now dead father choking on the poison. I hate to admit it, but, I can't help but think the world was better off without them. They didn't serve a purpose, exempt to bring pain.
I hate it here. Everyday, it's the same. I get up, eat a breakfast, go to counseling, eat lunch, then wait in my room until dinner. I see couples walk in and out, sometimes taking a child as they leave. They never asked to see me. Sometimes I would watch them walk by, and I was angry. I would get this tugging sensation in my chest. I wanted them dead. I wanted all of them dead.
Sometimes it scares me, my thoughts. I'm sure other people sometimes want other people dead. I'm fine. I'm normal.
But other people don't kill.
I am not fine.
And I am far from normal.
***
When I was called into the office, I wasn't too surprised. I get called in almost every day for getting in a fight, cussing out a new happy family, or just not doing my chores. I pull the greasy blond locks I call hair into a loose bun and tug on a t shirt, then head down to the front office. When I arrive a draw in a deep breath and stop abruptly. It's Mrs. Beirling.
"Hi..." I mutter, my thoughts racing. Does she know? I should have cleaned up the evidence better. I should have gotten rid of the bottles.
"Hi, Jess. I hope you're doing ok. I want you to meet my wife, Maria." I look to the woman next to her. I didn't even notice her before because of how worried I was. Selfish.
"It's nice to see you Mrs. Beirling, but what are you doing here?" She smiles sweetly, then turns to her wife.
"Please, call me Emily. My wife and I just got married, and when I told her about your case, she fell for you. We..." She pauses and looks down, embarrassed. "We wanted to start a family. And we believe everyone needs a family. Including you." She looks back up to me, and holds my gaze with her intense eyes. Wait, she couldn't mean...
"We want to be your foster parents." I start to speak but she cuts me off. "I realize this is fast, and we're not adopting you, just fostering you until you see if you like us, or... Don't" Maria smiles.
"When I hear your story, I cried. You really touched my heart." I bite my lip. After what I've done, how can I ever let myself be happy? My mind whizzes, the crazed expression I had on my face, how much I enjoyed watching him die. The free feeling, knowing Britney was gone. Knowing that she was dead.
But, if I accept, it means I'm out of here. The same sickening feeling washes over my body. The same feeling of wanting to hurt someone. Wanting to kill. I picture myself strangling them, slitting their throats, watching the life fade from them, the look of betrayal on their faces. I smile. The office lady, Miss Earwig, buts in.
"Of course, you have time to think. They will come back tomorrow," she looks to them for confirmation, "and see how you feel." I nod. Emily gives me a hug, and Maria gives me a friendly pat.
"We will see you tomorrow, Jess." Emily reassures me. I nod again and dismiss myself. I lay in bed and laugh, knowing soon I can satisfy my craving for blood.
