Lavender Black [read first post]
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Hey guys, I wanted to make a story about diversity and I wanted to be able to let you guys read the two installments I've already made. The title of this story is Lavender Black, and it's about a girl who is born with loving parents, but things go wrong when, as a baby, she opens her eyes. Her eyes are unusual in the world I'm writing in because this is real life, and her eyes are a peculiar shade of purple. And so, as a bit of an outcast, she's thrown around to many places, learning what life really is and how to deal. I'd like a few responses before I post the first installment. Thanks a bunch, I hope you'll be interested *bows* [edit] This is all my material, so if you read it and don't comment, then don't read at all if you're not gonna give your opinion. ![]() |
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Ah, a purple eyed girl born into the world, only to be discriminated against, correct? I've seen similar situations in anime before as well. Mostly when some girl is looking "different", and nobody dares to get involved with her. It also seems like the people who might be offended by her or something, are getting physical with her as well. It's almost like Hayami in H2O, wtf. =>.<= So, does she have some sort of power along with these purple shaded eyes of hers? Or, are they just regular shades of purple (no contacts, either, like my one friend). ^_^ ![]() ------- |
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Correct, she has these naturally purple eyes from birth, and the world is quite crule with her in a lot of places. Her "power" with these eyes of hers is that she can manipulate things to happen in her favor. You know, like how you try playing cards and you stare hard at the other person's hand, hoping they don't have a better hand? Well, if Lavender were in that situation, If she makes eye contact with anyone, or if they look at her eyes, they will be binded by her. She will be able to not only have a good hand of cards, she would also make that person fold if she desired it. She doesn't realize this until she's a bit older, though, around the age of nine or ten. They also do get a bit physical in the story with her, but I won't give those details^^ ![]() |
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Sounds good Apple, I'd read it ^_^ Me lykes the sound of the title too... |
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Thanks, I thought of the name while I was doodling some pictures in my sketch book and I just created the character and the story. I really enjoy writing things from the top of my head like this^^ ![]() |
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That's a nice idea! ^^ I'd love to read it. ![]() ![]() |
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Alright then, I will post my first installment of the story thus far. Tell me what you think! Lavender Black By Ms. Mapple Introduction: Another Day Ever wake up in the morning with your eyes still closed, listening to the sounds outside? Just lying there, not moving, that’s how I start my mornings until I can really feel awake. I get dressed in my favorite outfit, my stripped T-shirt, black sweatshirt and my good, un-ripped pair of jeans. I fix breakfast, the usual soggy bowl of cereal and tall glass of OJ. Then, I go to brush my teeth and hair. And, as always, I stare at myself in the mirror for what seems like the longest moment of my day. Purple was never my most favorite color. Looking at it everyday is just too much. _____________________________________________________________________________________ I walked out of the bathroom and look around. It’s always like this here. They rush me everyday. “Can’t you just get done, Lavender?! Why do you always take so long?†they call through the door. I sighed and walked out, pass the line of others who needed the lavatory. “Finally!†they say as I walk down the hall to the play room. I picked up puzzle and started putting it together. The picture on the box was a sunny field with an apple tree near a prairie house on a hill. Those kinds of things make me wish I could be there to know what it fells like. I haven’t introduced myself. My name’s Lavender Black. I’m thirteen years old. And I’m an orphan. I live at the orphanage with the other two hundred kids here. I can’t talk to anyone without them getting this look on their face that tells exactly what they think of me. Their eyes grow wide and they looked like they just got hit with a shot of “omigosh†and are trying to recover from the shell shock. I guess they have a good reason to. How many people do you know that have purple eyes? Yeah, that’s right. Purple. That’s my iris color. And everyone hates it. No one talks to me, they think I see things like ghost and spirits and, in secret, they call me Medusa, thinking I’ll turn them to stone if they look at my eyes. The only people with enough guts and smarts to talk to me is Miss Marllo, the guidance councilor for the Franklin D. Roosevelt Orphanage of the young and deserted. That’s actually the whole name for this little place. But I just call it “the orphanageâ€. Much easier if you ask me. But we talk about every Tuesday, and she always takes out a puzzle for me to do when we talk. The thing is, when we talk, we always get into my past no matter what we talk about. It’s like a cycle you can’t avoid with me somehow. Politics. My Past. The new movie coming out. My Past. We could even talk about butterscotch-peanut butter cups and still end up talking about what happened in my life so long ago. Every Tuesday. But I deal with it, cause she’s the only one who chooses to talk to me. Thirteen years ago, when I was born, my mom and dad were the happiest people on earth at that moment, let me tell you. They even video taped everything. When they saw me, they thought I was the most beautiful thing that’s happened to them. They wrapped me up in my great-grand mamma’s hand-made quilt. They took me home. And they gave me the most florally decorated room a baby could have. All that time, though, my eyes were closed. They were so excited to see my eyes, they would rock me in my crib at night, hoping that I’d open my eyes. Finally, I was able to open my eyes. It was like opening up a part of me that was so new to the world, even I was excited. But the first thing I heard, the first unpleasant thing, was something I thought I’d never hear right then. I heard my mother scream. The first thing I ever saw was her horror-stricken face, my dad at her side, trying to keep his face calm. He couldn’t take his eyes away from mine. My mother was spastically screaming in little cries, terrified of the sight of me. “Abby, get a hold of yourself!†my father said in a soothing voice, trying to stay calm. “No!†she screamed. “I didn’t give birth to that…that…†she trailed off as she tried to breathe. My father closed his eyes. “Abby…†“That thing!†she cried, pointing a trembling finger to my crib. She started to sob loudly, sitting in the rocking chair she had by the door. “What did I do?! What went wrong?! The doctor said she was a normal baby, nothing was wrong! I…I…â€. “Abby, I don’t know,†my father murmured as he held my mother, trying to calm her. Then I heard him let out a sob. All that time, from my crib, I watched them, not understanding what was wrong. What was wrong with me. After that, nothing was the same. They tried their hardest to put on a happy face, to try to be my proud parents. But they knew that I’d never be like the other kids. My “impedimentâ€, they called it, was the thing that made my life what it is right now. My mom, little by little, couldn’t take how much pressure she felt. She thought she screwed me up. She thought she made a “dudâ€. Every so often, when I was three or so, I would see her staring into space sitting at the kitchen table. I’d go over and ask, “What’s wrong, mommy?†Then it seemed she’d come back to earth, and when she would look at me, she’d start crying. Not once in those three years had she or my father said “I love you†to me. I never thought that was wrong. I didn’t even know what that phrase even meant. One night, I heard my mother and father talking in the living room. I needed to go to the bathroom, but I stopped when I heard my mother crying. I stayed close to the wall, making sure they couldn’t see me. “I can’t take this anymore!†my mother said between sobs. My father sat close to her, his face concerned, but also frightened that he knew the truth. He couldn’t take it either. “Abby, she’s just a--†“A what, Mark?! She’s not normal, I doubt she’s even human!†she cried furiously. “We have to try, Abby, if we don’t, what would she have been for?†“I can’t try anymore! I’m done! Do you know what it’s like, the other women and their precious little babies, laughing and talking about them. I can’t even say anything about her! They don’t even know she’s my daughter!!†she screamed. My father stared at her in horror. “You didn’t tell anyone about her?†he breathed. She looked up at him, her eyes ashamed. “Not even your parents?†His voice was getting louder. At that, she looked down, the feeling of her eyes being displayed. “Abigail, she’s our daughter! She’s our child! You can’t keep her from the world! She needs to live, to be a child, to learn, to have friends! And you’re sheltering her from that! You can’t do this, you just can’t…†He started sobbing, looking up to notice I was there. “Lavender,†he said in his calmest voice at that moment, “please, come here.†I walked across the room, trying not to look at my mother. When I did, she shuttered. I stood in front of him, staring into his eyes with mine. “Lavender, I--†“I love you, daddy!†I said. I had wanted to say it and know what it meant, it sounded so unusual. When I did, his eyes grew wide, his face blank without worry. “Oh, Lavender,†he whispered. He pulled me into a hug and held me for a long time. “I love you too, Lavender,†he said as tears streamed down his face. It was late, and I started to get sleepy. Even when I slept, he stayed with me, humming my little lullaby, stroking my hair every so often. And I just felt so warm and content. He was my father, and it felt like the first time he held that fact to his heart. The next morning, my father was called into work early to help out with a few things. I woke up in the morning, hearing my mother in the living room on the phone. “Hold on Jan, someone’s on the other line.†I heard a beep, and she started again. “Hello? Yes, this is her. What?!†I heard a slam of something hard. Nothing made a sound for a while, then mom finally spoke. “Oh my God…No, this couldn’t have…I’ll be there as fast as I can.†She made the phone beep again. “Jan, I gotta go. No, I can’t--I’ll tell you later. Bye.†She hung up the phone and rushed to my room. “Lavender, we have to go, come on, get dressed, we need to hurry.†She helped me get dressed, then walked me to the car. She buckled me in and sped down the road. She made hard turns, U-turns, and we finally arrived. At the Hospital. My mother practically ran inside, me in her arms, just to save time. She went to the front desk and asked, “Where’s Mark Black’s room?†The nurse pointed left and mom ran in that direction. Down the hall, we reached his room. “Mark, oh my God, what happened?!†she gasped as she walked into the room. But my father didn’t respond. He looked like he was sleeping. “M-Mark?†she asked, getting closer to the bed. Then she noticed a loud, flat beeping noise. Her eyes grew wide. “No! No, Mark, you can’t! No!†She knelt beside the bed and took his hand firmly. “Don’t go! Don’t leave me! I can’t do this!†she cried to the ceiling. Nurses and doctors came in, checking my father, disappointment on their faces. My father was gone. ![]() |
Re: Lavender Black [read first post]
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Wow This is really good, I like how you portrayed the parents' roles. In many instances (though not all), the mother is the one who is more understanding towards children's problems instead of the father. I like how you had the father as the more supportive parent in this story. Nice climactic tension too.. kudos |
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Wow, really!? I mean, um, well, I'll post the next installment when I get a few more comments on it. I wanted the father to portray the understanding role in this story, and I think it was the right thing to do, because I wanted to show a side of women and moms you don't see off of channels like Lifetime. I wanted the father to be strong for Lavender, to understand that she's a little girl and nothing more. But the mother, I wanted people to see that sometimes women go through a lot of stress and it's sometimes caused by their children. I wasn't too happy with the mothers character, but I was the one who's writing this stuff. I think that if you liked that, the second installment is good to go^^ Thanks for the kudos Sam, I didn't think anyone liked it because nothing was said for a looong time and it made me worried. But thanks so much for liking my story^^ ![]() |
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NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO~~~~!!! *coughs*... I got carried away by your story. Anyway, the first installment is amazing. You composed the story very well, the imagery is sorrowful but with a faint light of hope, where Lavender's father's adoration softens the agitating amtosphere. The parents part are somewhat vivid, although Lavender was very young to remember the screams of her mother (but still the videotapes are the evidence, so hey)... but that's not the problem. Makes the plot more interesting. I want to understand more of Lavender's characteristics and traits, especially her manipulation skill... I encourage you to write the next chapter (don't bother using 'installment' word, it's too sophisticated ^_^). I expect terrible downfalls and unexpected joys in the next chapter. (lols, punch me if I am being such a critic) Oh yea, this somehow reminds me a bit of Virginia Andrews' stories. The themes were usually a daughter as the main character, and a father who was very kind and protective towards his daughter. And the mother was always wicked. Ah!--- A bit like Damian from The Omen... too. |
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Aww, thanks w00t0s, and you will be able to read the second "chapter" lol. Here's more!: My mother cried, night after night, miserable. I tried making it better, but she just cried more. She picked up the phone and dialed a number, then waited. “Mom?†she asked. “Mark’s dead.†She didn’t say anything for a long time, then she asked, “Hey, Mom, would you like…to see your granddaughter?†Another long moment of silence. “Alright, I’ll see you in a while. Ok, bye.†She hung up the phone and looked at me. I looked away, afraid she would cry again. But this time, she closed her eyes and said, “Lavender, you’re going to be with Grandma for a while.†I didn’t know what to say. It was odd, all of a sudden with these events visiting my grandma. And for the first time. My mom packed up everything I owned, even my little pieces of furniture, and put them in my father’s truck. We drove for a long time, silence between us. After what felt like two hours, we arrived in front of a little house with a garden. Mom gave me a pair of sunglasses to wear, telling me to put them on. They hid my eyes from others. So, we walked up the porch, and rang the doorbell. After a short moment, my grandma was at the door, looking down at me with the warmest smile I had ever seen. “Come in child, come in,†she said as she moved aside to let us through. We walked through into a room more florally decorated than mine. Pictures scaled the walls and tables, and the room smelled of dried flowers. “Sweetheart, take those off, you’re inside now,†she said as we sat in the cozy room. I didn’t bother to look at my mother. I could feel her eyes on me, praying that I wouldn’t remove them. But I did, and I looked down at my feet. Grandma gave me a kind smile and said, “Let me see your eyes, child.†My mother’s eyes grew wide, her mouth opening to protest, but I already looked up to my grandma. With my eyes meeting hers, her smile faded, her face blank with horror. She backed away from me, bumping into one of the many tables mounted with memorabilia. “This child’s cursed,†she whispered under her breath. “This child’s the work of the devil!†My mother began crying, and my grandma hurried out of the room. I looked around, not knowing what was happening at the time. My mother got up and followed her. “Please, Mom, let her stay here, she can’t stay with me!†“Abigail, I’m not gonna have a cursed child, a devils spawn, in this holy house and home!†“But please--†“Enough, Abigail! Take her out of this house at once!†She banged her cane to the floor as she said that. “But Mom--†“Now!†my grandmother bellowed. My mother came back to the room and took hold of my wrist firmly. We walked out, slamming the door behind us. Once in the truck, she hit the steering wheel with the ball of her hand. She turned the ignition, roaring the truck to life. As we sped down the road, going past the speed limit, she started to mumble things like, “What did I do?†and “I’m cursed!†But I just looked out the window at the passing houses and stores that lined the streets. After another while, we were in the city in front of this huge building. We got out, opened the doors and walked to a large counter. A woman sat there, reading one of those over-rated tabloid magazines. She looked up as my mother approached. “Welcome to the Franklin D. Roosevelt, how may I help you today?†she chimed. “Where do I drop her off?†my mother asked in a cold, dead voice. The desk woman’s face saddened as she heard her. With a nod of her head, she said, “To the left, and then make a right.†My mother stormed off in that direction, dragging me along by my wrist. Mom stopped at an office door, opening it and barging in. The man at a small desk looked up in surprise as he saw my distressed mother. “May I help you, ma’am?†he barely spoke. My mother slammed the door behind us and we sat in the chairs by his desk. “Please, take her,†she said. The man looked concerned, then brought a clipboard from his desk with a pen. “Just fill out this information sheet, then the medical sheet, and if she needs any medication, fill that in as well.†He turned to me with the fakest smile I could ever see. But I didn’t look at him. I looked at my feet again. “And what’s your name, little miss?†he asked. “Lavender,†I mumbled. He smiled wider at my shyness. “It’s alright. Why don’t you look at me when I talk?†I tried to find the words to say, but all I could think of was, “’Cause mommy says not to.†The man looked at me hard. “Look at me, please,†he asked. I raised my head at his proposal and looked at his eyes. With that, he jolted out of his chair, knocking it over. “O-oh, a s-special case, huh?†he asked my mother. She kept her head down over the paper and pen. She then slammed it on the desk in front of him. “Where does she go now?†she whispered. The man picked up his chair and sat again. “Well, she goes to the children’s room. She’ll be taken care of well, I assure you. We even give the children individual rooms!†he said, trying to sound excited. It didn’t help my mother. “Where’s that?†she whispered again. The man’s expression fell again. “Down the hall to your left, you can’t miss it,†he mumbled. My mother got up and took my wrist again. The man looked at me and forced a smile. He looked like he was having trouble when he spoke the words behind his smile. “Welcome to the Franklin family, Lavender.†He choked on my name at the end. So we walked out to the hall, turned left, and found the children’s room. The large room was filled with other children, playing, laughing, talking. It was the brightest, happiest place I had ever seen. My mother knelt down and turned me towards her face. She shuddered a bit when she looked at me, but she took a deep breath, refraining from the tears that wanted to come out. “Lavender, I--†“I love you, mommy!†I said, trying to make her happy. My mother hugged me tight, the tears flooding down her face. “I…I just…I can’t…†she cried. She dried her tears and looked down at my face. “I’ve always wondered what you saw with those violet eyes. But I’ll never know.†With that said, she walked away, but turned back to me. “Goodbye, Lavender. Be…good,†she said, her voice hoarse with tears. She rushed down the hall way and passed the door. And that was last time I ever saw my mother. ________________________________________________________________________________ P.S: I think that this song by the Pillows, called "Scarecrow", is kind of like the theme song for this story^^ ![]() |
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I think the whole "OMG she's cursed" reaction to everyone seeing her is a little surprising, since it is a very extreme reaction to someone's eye color. But, that also provides incentive to keep reading, since people would want to find out why everyone is reacting in such a way. Two things in the last chapter I noticed: "It was odd, all of a sudden with these events visiting my grandma." This implies that there were more than one, and by the looks of it the grandma wanted nothing to do with her after the first visit. "After what felt like two hours, ..." She's still 3 at this point, right? Kids have no sense of time, she'd have no idea what an hour is to compare to. Good story. ^^ ![]() |
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Yeah, I guess you're right about the time thing. I'll keep that in mind^^ Oh, and there were more events going on. Her father's funeral, her family not knowing of her existence, and the fact that her mom was kind of losing it. that's how it goes. I just didn't mention all that stuff because the reader should be able to read between the lines and know that after a lot of things are said and done in the story. ![]() |
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Again, wow your writing is very spell-binding! This story is even making me emotional T_T well, im not cryin yet, but just give it time lol You have a brilliant way of words that brings out emotion and the hopelessness portrayed in the story. I liked how you had the man at the orphanage "with the fakest smile I could ever see", ya kno smells like some foreshadowing that the orphanage might not be the "brightest, happiest place" that it seems to be, meh bee? I might be wrong on that tho |
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Apple! This is really good! Please keep posting! thanks! -Quack ![]() requests
are OPEN! Stop by my Profile
for details! >.-b
Satisfied? then
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you guys have been really supportive of this and your comments make me feel that push that I need to write more. Not only for me, but for you. Here's the next "chapter"! Enjoy: So now I’m still here at the Franklin D., building puzzles and drinking a juice box. None of my other relatives know about me, so until someone adopts me or I turn eighteen, I’m stuck here. It’s not so bad, but it’s not the best. When the other kids try to pick on me, I just suggest that we play cards. Something like Uno or whatever. We play and bet stuff like cookies, toys, and even money when we get it. But people don’t play me anymore cause of my “abilityâ€. For some reason or another, not just my eyes are my weird point. No, of course not. It’s what they do. I found out a few years ago that my eyes don’t just intimidate everyone. They manipulate people and their actions. What they say, what they do, I could control it all. You could say I’m a Matilda case. It’s really weird, and I guess people are too easily prone to asking to see my face. Once they do, this sort of cycle starts, and only I can end it. It started with that office guy my mom talked to. One day, I saw him standing in front of the candy machine, taking out his wallet to get something. I thought, ‘Drop it’ because I was just bored watching him. After a minute, he did just that. Quarters and other change dropped out. “Oh for Pete’s sake,†he said as he bent down to pick it up. My eyes widened when I realized what he had done. What I thought. I wanted to try other things. ‘Buy a bag of trail mixx’ I thought. Once he had his money together, he put in a dollar and bought a bag of trail mixx. As he reached for it, he held it for a moment, looked around and said, “What the?†He threw away the bag and took out another dollar. This made me angry. I liked trail mixx. ‘Buy another bag and leave it buy the trash can’ I thought. He bought the bag and set it against the can. He shook his head confusingly and said, “What in the? What am I doin’?†He took out another dollar as woman was walking down the hall toward him. ‘Buy her chocolate’ I thought. He bought a chocolate bar and turned to the woman. “This is for you,†he said. The woman stopped, surprised. “Th-thank you,†she said, a bit nervous. “Who are you?†The man shook his head again. “What did I do now?†he asked, confused. The woman stared at him blankly. “O-k…†she said as she walked past him. “What?!†he asked, furious that he didn’t know what was happening. The woman hurried away, quickening her pace with his question. He grunted through his teeth. He kicked the machine and closed the door to his office. And that’s what I do. So, you could say I’m lonely, you could say no one will listen because I’m, as I’ve been told, “A work of the devilâ€, but I’m fine. They don’t know me, so those things can’t hurt. I push them away anyway. It’s nothing big. But today was different. Today, I met Mel Turnbomb. ![]() |
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Shweet i like how you referred to her issue as "Matilda case", cuz that's exactly what I was thinking XD Can't wait to meet Mel Turnbomb! |
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Next "chapter", here we go!: I heard someone come in through the front entrance this morning, and everyone stared curiously at who came in. A lady, red headed, dressed like she was heading on a tour with an alternative band. She looked so different from the other stuffed-shirt people who walk in here looking to adopt. They tell everyone here at Franklin D. that only people with good money would adopt. So that killed our hopes in getting adopted quickly. She walked over into the man’s office and sat down. She kept the door open, like she had nothing to hide. “May I help you, ma’am?†he asked in the same tone he asked my mother long ago. “Yeah,†she said, pausing to take out the piece of gum in her mouth that she was previously gnawing on loudly. “I’m here to adopt.†She flicked the gum into the trash can, landing with a hollow thunk against the empty plastic can. The man straightened up in his chair. “Um, what are you looking for in particular, miss?†he asked, a little nervous. “Well, I just want a good kid, I’d prefer a girl, y’know?†she said, taping her foot to some beat that only she hears. “Ah, yes, we have a lot of good girls here. Do you have an age in mind?†he asked, tapping his fingers on the desk. She shrugged. “Not really.†He took this as his cue to show her to the children’s room. He walked her casually to the entrance way, keep his eyes on her expression. “Girls!†the man called throughout the room. In an instant, all the boys rushed out of the room, and the girls lined up, shortest to tallest. I was somewhere in the middle. “Well?†he asked, nodding in the direction of our line. She looked at him. “Are you crazy?†she asked. “Um, wha--†“Damn, what is this, role call? ’Think you’re sellin’ slaves here, are ya? Or is this the military? Huh?†she pressed harder with each word. The man backed away, then she looked back to us. The line here for girls is really long, so I’m practically invisible in these situations. But not today. “Hey!†she called down my way along the line. I just stood there, almost hoping she would pass. She stopped in front of me, her eyes on the top of my head. “What’cha looking at?†she asked, straining to see my face. I realized that I was staring at my feet again. Crud. “C’mon, look up or something, kid,†she said. So, as always, I did, and my eyes met hers. But something was different this time. She stopped, staring in my eyes for the longest time. I was getting uncomfortable. “Yeah?†I asked as she continued to stare. “What’s your name?†she asked, standing up straighter than what she had been. “Lavender. Lavender Black,†I said. “Hmm,†she concluded. “Th’name’s Melanny Turnbomb. But you can call me Mel if ya want.†She held out her hand to shake. I took it and we shook hands. The man walked over again, cautious of Mel’s temper. “Is she’s the one you want?†he asked quietly. Mel smiled at me and said, “Only if she wants to get out of this dump.†The man shuttered at the word “dumpâ€. “E-excuse me?†“Yeah, this place. I’ve seen better pigsties and horse stalls.†Then he was the one to look at his feet. “Umm, well, just fill out the information on this clipboard, and she’ll be yours ma’am,†he said quietly. She grabbed the board and started writing so fast that I couldn’t make out which sheet she was on by the time she handed it over to him. He took a minute to look everything over and looked back at us. “You’re good to go, ma’am,†he confirmed. She nodded, a smile growing on her face. “C’mon, let’s blow this joint!†she said with a chime in her tone. She grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the door. I looked back at the other girls and the man. They glared at me, their eyes burning the fact that they saw me as things like “invaluable†and “dumbly lucky†burning into the back of my sweatshirt. I looked forward, to the light of the outside world, ready to leave them behind. When she pushed open the door, fresh air pushing its way into my lungs, making me feel like I was breathing for the first time, she turned to me and asked, “So, you like Asian food, Lav?†![]() |
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meh likey at the end of the last chapter i wouldve though mel was gunna be a kid her age lol glad she got adopted! |
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oh this is lavender black! I'm going to read ^^ |