** hey if you're reading then thanks. What Skye looks like in the link
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I can feel my legs burning as I run down the street, my view messed up by my normally tame fringe now covering my eyes. Every few seconds I look behind me to see if I’m still being chased. This time it looks like I’m lucky, and lost them. I pull my hood up to shield my face from any to see just in case.
Guess I should tell you who I am and what the hell was going on. Well the name’s Scarlett, but I go by Skye. Don’t ask where I got Skye, someone called me that and it stuck so, yeah. I’m seventeen, short, and have long black hair with fringe that usually covers one eye. Right now its a mess though. If you really want to know what I was running from well….I would rather not dwell on that for right now. Lets just say I was needed some money after leaving my last foster home. More on that later
I slow to a walk when I start to get a few odd looks. I don’t really know where to go. I can’t go back to the orphanage. They’ll just send me back to those crazy people. I was brought out of my thoughts by flashing lights that I know all too well. So much for not going back. I sigh and walk up to the police cruiser. We don’t even say anything to each other, I just get into the cop car and he starts for the hell hole that I normally stay at. See, yeah this isn’t the first time this has happened. This makes…I think the seventh time.
When I get back in the old, way too cheery, looking lady (yeah that is false advertisement. I can practically feel the hate coming off of her) at the front tells me to just go back to my ‘room’. She knows by now that when I leave somewhere I’m not going back. It just won’t happen.
Instead of going to my room I go to my brother’s. I go and knock on the door to see the twelve year old holding an ice pack to his eye. Yeah, this is why I don’t like to and try not to leave him behind. Every time I get back he either has a black eye or other bruises. He finally notices me and looks up a small smile forming.
“Hey zeke” I say quietly walking in.
“I thought you left?” he asks ignoring my greeting.
“I did, but since when has that lasted?” he shakes his head at my statement. I always tell him they changed their minds. I think he knows that I just won’t leave him behind, but that’s not going to stop me.
After talking to him a bit I go to my room. It’s not really my room. I share it with two other girls. Two other girls that hate my guts. I mean you would think that everyone here would…you know…kinda get along at least. It’s not like we don’t understand each other’s situations. It’s not like any of us are any better than the others. But I guess you always have to have the ‘snobs’ or whatever. I just so happen to be roomies with them. I don’t know how the sarcastic, emo (as they like to call me), freak (i don’t like talking to others if I don’t have to, sue me) got stuck with the pink loving barbies. Or how they ended up here in the first place. My guess is that they were with certain foster parents for a while or something and came back snobby. That’s my theory anyway. You can think what you want.
As soon as I walk into the room it instantly goes quiet and I’m met with a pair of disgusted looks.
