Adopted by Ash Costello (1)

An Introduction

A/N

Trigger warning throughout this story. I would hate to trigger someone so if you are feeling particularly sad or susceptible please do not read this story. It's not plagued with self-harm references throughout but this is about a character's struggle with this so it is expected. I'm also writing this story as a way of avoiding doing it to myself and I find writing about it puts me off of actually doing it (I know that's different for some people but oh well). I hope you understand and realise that this fanfic is not for you if cannot read anything of that nature. Thank you.

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An Introduction -

"Here. Take this" A middle-aged woman said whilst pushing a plain black notebook across the desk that separated herself and the fourteen year old girl who sat opposite her. The woman, known as Mrs Jones to those in the foster home, had many wrinkles although they were definitely not from laughing as this seemed like an activity the overly-serious woman would not be interested in.

"Why?" The fourteen year old, known by Chloe (although most called her by nasty names) asked. She had grown distrustful of many adults in her life which seemed understandable given the abuse she had suffered from her dad for five years after her mum lost her battle with cancer. She had loved her mum (but could not remember much about her) and her dad had loved her too which is why he turned to drink and seemed to lose himself along the way. This was ten years ago and yet still felt like yesterday. She knew first hand how situations could change; one minute you could have two of the most caring parents in the world and the next you could be alone. It was a hard concept for a child to understand but she had done so and with this understanding of truth she had become wary of not only adults but of people in general. She was disconnected.

"Listen. The agency have picked up on you being upset. I think it's a load of attention-seeking and don't know why I'm forced to deal with you but I need to otherwise I don't get paid. It's their new initiative so you'll write in the book about your feelings and all that crap" Mrs Jones dismissed in her monotone and uncaring voice, turning her eyes on the long sleeves that Chloe always wore on top of her band t-shirts. Everyone was aware of her self-harming much to Chloe's dismay but that did not negate the deep-rooted feelings of shame that washed over Chloe every time she thought of her doing so. She knew it was wrong and stupid and unhealthy but that did not stop the nagging voice inside her brain telling her to do so; it was like an itch she knew she shouldn't scratch but if she ignored that itch it would only build up until she snapped. She had to do it otherwise she would do something worse.

"Do I have to?" Chloe pleaded, desperation in her voice. She pulled down her long sleeves even further, feeling that Mrs Jones' cold stare could somehow penetrate the fabric and see the cuts on her wrist and up her arms. Chloe moved her black hair out of her face before turning back to look down at her lap.

"Yes. Do you want me to tell them that you haven't been turning up for your appointments? Trust me when I say that it is for the best" Mrs Jones threatened as she usually did. This always resulted in Chloe reluctantly doing what she wanted; whether that be telling the agency how well Mrs Jones had been treating her or being forced to come in to clean her office. With everything that was on her file already (the mental health issues, anxiety, troubled past etc) she did not want to add any more negatives that could potentially put off strangers from adopting her. She didn't want a family at all but she would happily put up with one if that had meant being rescued from this place, the heartless counsellor she was forced to see and the vicious girls she shared a room with.

"Fine." Chloe sighed, pinging a hairband against her wrist (she always carried at least three in her wrist at any given time for convenience and a way of calming herself down).

"Leave now" Mrs Jones instructed coldly, grabbing her phone from the desk before she started texting. Chloe got up and turned to leave "Oh and take those piercings out. They annoy me" She added, pointing to the snakebites that Chloe's only friend in the agency (Caitlin) had arranged for her to get done last year by her friend. Needless to say, the school were not happy at all.

"Sure" Chloe fake-smiled before grabbing the notebook and leaving. As soon as the door closed, she turned around and stuck her middle finger at the door and felt an urge to kick it but didn't. She had fought with the school and the care home about these piercings enough times that she knew she wasn't going to take them out. It was the one part of herself that she liked and she wasn't going to willingly take them out to please anyone even if that meant a lesser chance of finding a family. Chloe walked upstairs and found her bedroom.

Chloe knew Georgia and her gang were not going to be home (is that even the right word for this place? she thought) for at least half an hour so she took this opportunity to begrudgingly start completing her mandatory task. She did not want to delve into her innermost emotions, ones that she had tried so hard to repress, at all let alone in front of three of the girls that hated her more than anyone else in the entire world. She sat on her bed (the top bunk) and, with an unsteady hand, she grabbed a pen and began to write a simple introduction.

Dear Diary,

This is weird. I've never had a diary before. I guess I'll start with an introduction? My name is Chloe and I am 14 years old. I have black hair and absolutely love my snakebite piercings even if certain people don't. I like to read but I don't have much in the way of books (other than school) so I rely on my music for entertainment. My music is more alternative, rock, metal kind of thing but I don't like to stick to one particular sound. I just like songs with meaning and find them therapeutic. Is this enough for an introduction? I don't even know.

Emotions
The way I feel is
Some days I struggle

Chloe crossed out the beginning of the next paragraph frustratingly, knowing that it was going to be hard for her to write down what she felt. It was hard enough trying to understand it herself. She could not understand why some days she felt like the crushing weight of even just existing felt too much as it crashed over her. She could not fathom a reason as to why she would focus in on things she said from years back and fixate on them as she tried to decide whether she said the right thing and whether she had said it in the right way or even at the right time. She could not comprehend why there were days where she had no motivation to get up as she stared at a blank wall for hours feeling nothing, absolutely nothing. She was just a kid with no help or guidance from anyone. She shut the notebook and placed it under pillow, deciding to put her earphones in and music on before she plummeted into the depths of despair and overthinking. With lyrics of hope and motivation filling her brain, she turned over to face the wall and curled up into a ball before closing her eyes. She was desperately trying to focus on the lighthouse that were those lyrics and not the jagged, intimidating rocks nor the bleak, malicious ocean that represented those negative thoughts threatening to pull her in.