Untitled Book

 

Chapter 1

It was calling to me. 
Begging me to come closer, it wants me to become one with it. 
The heat was blistering and I could feel the waves of it move closer as the blaze grew. 
I wasn't even conscious of the fact I had stepped closer to the flames. 
My clothing was smouldering from the heat and I knew if I moved any closer they would burst into flame. 
The logical part of my mind was telling me it was too much. Back away, before its too late. But logic and my brain were no longer in control. 
No I had lost all control to the flickering red and yellow that was now closing in on me...

I woke from the dream feeling chilled to the bone.
Groaning, I moved my frozen limbs as I rolled out of the small cot someone liked to pass as bed, heading to the showers before the others woke.
The burning heat of the water sluicing down my back helped chase the dream away. I wasn't sure I could call it a nightmare, didn't you have to be afraid or hate whats happening in it before a dream becomes a nightmare?

Bang! Bang! Bang!  "Five minutes!" called a muffled voice from the other side of the bathroom door. Probably the House Mother, or Warden as I liked to call this one. It's easier that remembering all the names.
Safer that way.
After seventeen years in and out of the foster system you learn not to get attached to any person or place.
Sure, there are lots of caring people out there who cant have kids of their own or want to help those less fortunate but once they find out about my obsession they hightail it for a return and refund.

The puppy no one wants.

*****

Damn it, the shrink is here again.
That can only mean one thing, its 'family day', those willing to try their luck with one of us come to the meat market where they pick and choose and treat us like cow's at the slaughter.
You can see the hope in the younger girls faces. Most of them are young enough that someone will choose them at some point so their hope is not misplaced. Then there is me, being in my late teens means most people dont even see me. I blend into the furniture. But that's OK, I am used to it by now and hey, I only have six months of my sentence in foster hell left. Then I can get out of dodge.
Eighteen years old and I will walk out that door, no idea where I'll go but I have nothing tying me to anything around here. The highway will be my freedom and my feet will pick the path. That's where my hope was lived, not with the false hope of adoption.
For the next couple of hours I slip into a book while the kids rotate between TV and potential parents.