Finding a Home

The back of a hand brushes against the side of my face, and a small sigh escapes my lips. 

That's when the laughter starts. 

I awake with a jerk, slapping the hand away from me as I do so. 

"Good morning, Liles." The voice of a girl mocks, stroking my face again. "How was your sleep?" She asks, pressing her chapped lips against my left ear. I shove her away from me as I stood up from my bed. 

"Aw, baby, why you acting so cold?" Her voice crows behind me, as I make my way to the one and only bathroom. 

I use my elbows to get through the hall filled with horrid looking, foul smelling children. Okay, not really "children". But four to twenty tops. Actually, I wouldn't really know. Here, age is based on looks. A fourteen-year-old boy could well pass for a first grader. So who knows? None of us know how old we really are. 

I am almost to the door when my eyes lay upon a young-looking girl, who lost her right eye before she was brought here. She looks to be around seven years old. 

With her one eye, she looks at me, and I nearly stop cold--and slam my face against the bathroom door. Laughter bursts around me, and the girl lowers her head. 

I set my hand against the doorknob, and turn it. Locked. 

I curse to myself as I jiggle the handle, and pound against the door with my right fist. 

"Hey, you done in there?" I shout, my fist pounding harder against the metal door. 

 Disturbing sounds from within the room give me my reply. 

"What are you doing?! Get out!" I shout, now slamming my shoulder against it. A loud moan comes from inside, and I spit out nasty words to the people in there. 

More curses escapes my lips as I hastily search my pockets for a paper clip.

Finally finding one in my back pocket, I bent it until it was straight enough and stuck it in the lock.A few moments later, there was a click, and I opened the door.

There I find a boy and girl, entangled with each other against the wall, as kids from the hall pour into the humid room. The laughter begins well before the boy could pull away from his girlfriend. 

"Get out!" I shouted. 

The boy and girl look nothing older than thirteen years old, and I snarl at them. Yet he still charges at me, not even bothering to put his ratty shirt on first. 

Before he could lay his dirty fingers on me, my hands lock around his neck, and his soaking tongue sticks out from between his lips. 

I glare into his pale eyes as I shove him against the wall. 

"You ever do that again, and I will kill you." I warned. Chants form around me, and my fingers lock in tighter. I shoot the girl a look. "You didn't even try to defend him?" I asked her. 

She looks at the boy--who's face was turning blue--and then back at me. Her eyes shoot down, and she pulls down the hem of her shirt.

        I stared back at the boy, until his blurry eyes find mine. "Then you picked a smart girl." I spat, and threw him to the ground.

        By the way he was holding his knee and crying out, I'm guessing that he fractured something.

        Too bad.

        The girl runs towards him, brushing away the hair from his screwed up face.I wonder how long it will take for her to break up with him.

        I swung the boy over my shoulder and threw him out of the room, and the girl runs towards him.

        Slamming the door shut, I did my business. No toilet paper to wipe. Flushed. Washed my hands; run out of soap. And looked at myself in the mirror.

        Though I don't drink or do drugs, I looked as if I were on some kind of horrible hangover.

         I splashed water to my face, and slushed warm water around in my mouth for around one minute. Doesn't really do any good, but it makes me feel less disgusting.

         I took a look at my hair, which looked either slicked with gel, or just wet from water.

         Bathing here is unusual. 

         I opened the door, and walked back to my bed.

         Flopping down on my back, I moved my forearm until it was covering my eyes.

         So, as you can see, my life pretty much tanks. I don't know how the heck I got here, or who the heck organizes this place. But what I do know is that some loser is making a whole lot of money off of some homeless kids they found on the streets.

         How so? Well here's basically a days job: Wake up, beg strangers for money, give money to a man who never leaves the house.

         Oh, and if we were ever "gifted" with any appealing talent, they find a way for us to use that to get more money.

         Lucky for me, I have no talent that would help.

         For the people that do, somehow they would always either lose a leg, an arm, an ear, and even their eyes. The more people pity, the more people give. Doesn't take a genius to figure that out.

          

 

 

 

Author's Note

This story is unfinished, and needs A LOT of editing. :p
I'm still deciding whether I should make this into a book or not. Help me decide? :3

Reviews

[SilverSpirit98]

Wow. This is good! You should totally continue this, I would be glad to "Sit down, fluff up a pillow and have a hot chocolate" while reading this story!! Indeed its great! :)

[Abbie]

Make it a book! It is wonderful! I really want to read more! :D great job! ^.^