Prologue

A Chapter by Trapped

Two years ago...

Friday, April 3rd could be categorized as a “bad day”, but in reality, everyday is a bad day. I was just excited to let loose and enjoy the weekend, and the special occasion.

It was my 12th birthday, after all. I could sleep in, sing, and play with Albie, an albino cockatiel that I adopted about a year ago.

I didn’t care what the girls at school said about my dirty blond hair. I didn’t care what the mirror said about my ugly purple eyes.

I had two days to relax, and forget about my now 12-year-old troubles. Or so I thought. I heard sirens grow louder as I approached my house. Was there a robbery? Are mom and dad okay? Albie? I heard hopeless screeching from inside the house, so I assumed Albie was alright. But what about mom and dad? My mind raced as I took a deep, shaky breath and walked up to the nearest police officer.

“Is everything alright?”

“Who are you in relation to Eve and David Iridium?”

A rise in her eyebrow.

“I’m their daughter,” Fear quaked in my voice, but I stood up straighter and forced myself to be strong. She takes off her sunglasses and squats down so she’s at my height.

“Where are my parents?!”

Her head makes a barely imperceptible shake.

“Your parents died in a car accident. They were on their way here when a drunk driver ran a red light. He slammed into them. They died instantly. The man, Charles Peter, is a very bad man. He is in jail now and will be taken care of. Your parents were amazing people and really loved you. They should have lived longer than they did. They felt no pain, and will be given the best funeral we can provide.” It felt like there was a bowling ball in my throat. The world around me spiraled. My legs were jelly. I couldn’t breathe. My parents are… dead? The officer continues but I barely hear her. I could make out, “...foster care...couple of hours...crazy bird...belongings...sorry.” I nod slowly and start to walk to the front door. I’m numb. This can’t be happening. My parents aren’t dead. Someone’s playing a prank on me. My parents are going to walk through the front door, perfectly alive and intact. I don’t bother to take off my shoes when I enter, as I head to my room. I turn around before going up the stairs and watch the door. No one enters. I trudge up the stairs and slip into my room. Albie greets me with a sorrowful tune. He knows what’s happened. I don’t blame him. The whole house feels too empty. Sounds too quiet. No football playing on the living room tv. No rushing water from the kitchen sink. No screaming tea kettle on the stove. Nothing. I slide a large brown briefcase, my 8th birthday present, out from under my bed. Flipping it open, I lay it on the top of my bed and begin to pack. I throw in some of my favorite clothes, a small matchbox, all of my colorful clothes, and the small red ball that Albie obsesses over. I flick the briefcase closed and place it down next to my bed.

Everything hits me in a single moment. My breathing suddenly comes out labored and rapid. The world is closing in on me. I can’t breathe. I can’t see. I can’t hear. It’s cold. I’m dying. Nobody will miss me. It will be okay. I open my eyes that I didn’t know were closed and see Albie in my face. He seemed to be sideways, and I was confused until I realized in my fit, I had curled up into a fetal position on my bed. I sat up quickly and my vision swam.

Albie started chirping “You are my sunshine”, swaying to the beat. I join him and we finish the verse feeling better than we did when we started. We both sat there, staring at the aspects of my room, remembering memories. We both knew we’d never see it again. After an hour and a half of sitting there, remembering, I sat up and picked up my briefcase and walked to the front door, with Albie trailing behind. Kathy lead us to her police cruiser, where I tossed my case into the trunk. I climbed in the back seat while Albie sat on my leg. As we pulled out of my driveway, the driveway, I felt no emotion. No sadness. No anger. No confusion. Nothing. I felt hollow. I laid down on the empty car seats next to me and Albie snuggled into me. I guess things were okay for now. Albie twittered a tune that seemed happy but I could tell it was forced. I never knew if it was in an attempt to comfort me or himself. Maybe both.

�"

My parents are there, right in front of me, smiling. Nothing else comes into focus. I knew it! I knew they didn’t die! It was all a lie. A carefully planned trick. Placed by strangers.

“It’s okay Krissie. It’s gonna be alright.” My mom said, her hair cascading over her shoulders and down her back like a waterfall made of gold.

“It’s all gonna be alright” my dad nodded, his arm around her. Then, everything flickered black and my parents were gone. I looked around until I was turned in a full circle. Then I saw him. A man walking up to me. He had an empty glass bottle in his hand and chuckled. “Your welcome, little wolf.” The air was filled with the sound of screeching tires and screaming. The ringing in my ears rose until it was unbearable. What I would give for silence at that moment. Pure, sweet, crisp, silence.

A car door slamming was what woke me. I jumped up to see the foster center out of the window. It was a large, cream-colored building with a bright pink sign screaming the building’s purpose for being there.

Kathy was walking around the car to get to the trunk, probably to have my case ready for me when I got out. Albie was still asleep so I slowly sat up, scooped him into my hands, and held him to my chest. I then scooted toward the door and got it open with my foot. I proceeded to slide out of the car and close the door slowly with my knee. I still felt completely hollow, like a human-shaped shell. I walked to Kathy, who stood next to the car with my briefcase in hand, and shifted Albie to one hand so I could take my briefcase with the other. She led us into the center and to the front desk, where she told them my name, date of birth, and parents’ names.

I looked around for something to focus on besides the receptionist's pitying look. The walls were painted a light pink as if that was the best color they could think of. The clock read 5:37, a few hours after I’d gotten out of school. There was a row of shiny blue plastic chairs that seemed unused. The giant stuffed bear in the corner looked extremely wet and abused. It probably had been cried on and beaten by emotional kids numerous times. It sagged profusely and was missing a left arm and probably quite a bit of stuffing. I wouldn’t be surprised to come back in a year and see a pile of cotton in the corner. I snapped out of my daze as the receptionist slid some sort of blue and white ID card across the desk. It had my information on it in dark blue metallic lettering, hung on a plain black lanyard. I said nothing. Just snatched it, studied it, and slid it over my head.

The clock became my focus once again. 5:39, it whispered from its lonely perch. My parents haven’t even been gone for a day and the world feels so cold already. My hands were trembling, my leg bouncing, and the tears were starting to flow. I could feel one drop streak down my cheek, leaving a wet trail as it dropped from my chin to the carpeted floor. I sniffed and wiped away the mist from my eyes. The receptionist shot me a pitying look and continued to clack obnoxiously loudly at her keyboard. If I didn’t break down in tears, I swore to break that useless keyboard. My eyes dropped to Albie, still asleep in my cradled hand. He twittered when he exhaled, like a cute little snore. A thin smile grew on me like a weed growing through a crack as Albie ruffled his feathers and sat up. He fluttered up to my shoulder and chirped into my ear. He was small and stubborn but could make me smile in even the roughest of times. Like now.

“Kristol?” A honey sweet voice said. I jolted up. A young woman with golden flowing hair, a bright yellow professional dress stood in an open doorway. One of her perfect hands that had previously clasped in front of her now were outstretched as she advanced toward me. I tried to slink away, but she wrapped me in a hug, to which Albie protested. She was warm and smelled of honeysuckle. I squirmed, feeling uncomfortable with a stranger hugging me like the world was going to end in a few minutes. The officer, now trying to swat and grab at Albie in attempts to make him be quiet, only made him screech louder. I finally squirmed free of her grasp and turned my back on the human golden retriever puppy on steroids. Trying to run up to you and love up all over you. Their primary goal is to cover you in slimy slobber.

“Kristol, this is Martha. She will be taking care of your housing and…” She pauses for a moment, “Temporary family.” What she was implying finally dawned on me.

“Your send me to foster care? Your just gonna send me off to the first family who claims me? With my luck, I’m gonna live with some blockhead and his greedy, vile, scumbag of a girlfriend! Wow, thanks! What a great birthday present, eh?”

Now, most 12 year olds are, and I mean as much offense as possible, stupid. They use none of their billions of neurons for school, instead waste them on football and makeup tutorials. But me? I actually use mine. And at this moment, mine were screaming at me to do something. Anything. I looked around frantically, sweat beading on my forehead, and thought of nothing.

I heard a tinny voice in my head say, “She’s useless. I’m pressing it, guys.” I felt my body fall backwards and I hit the ground. My eyes closed and everything flickered to black.