They said I was just an unfortunate child, born to the wrong people. I'd never seen light until I was eight years old. My parents were criminals (I hadn't known this before of course). They'd hurt a lot of people. They were captured eventually, but then they had managed to escape the prison they were in. Then I was born. My parents were afraid they were caught, so they stayed in an apartment for eight years. No light, and almost no human contact. My dad was the only one that ever left the apartment, to get necessary things like food, clothes, and what not.
I never went to school. Mom taught me what she thought was important. I barely knew how to read or write. My dad taught me how to be stealthy, how to mover around the apartment so quietly that the neighbors thought it was unoccupied.
I wasn't the greatest at it though.
When I was eight years old, the police found them. It was the scariest moment in my life. The apartment was always dark, no lights, the curtains were always closed, then all of a sudden the door flew open, and light poured in. It was the strangest thing I'd ever seen. It lit up the whole room, making it so easy to see. But my eyes were so adjusted to the dark, it was painful to look at the light. I cried out and covered my eyes, and my parents were shouting at the people to leave me alone.
"Don't tell them anything! Don't tell them anything!" Mom shouted. I curled up into a ball, and refused to open my eyes. I felt hands grab my arms, and drag me outside; a place I'd never been. I still refused to look. I knew I couldn't trust them, but these people were so much stronger than me. They sat me somewhere, and a door slammed behind me. They strapped something across me, and then it felt like I was moving.
"Kid, would you open your eyes?" a deep voice asked from in front of me. "Look at me!" I shook my head side to side, still keeping my eyes and mouth closed. After a while the movement stopped. I heard the door open, and they ripped me out, dragging me across. I could see light through my eyelids, and I squeezed them shut more. mais doors, mais walking, and then they sat me in a chair. A light shined in my face, that still burned even with my eyes squeezed shut, and I covered them with my hands.
"Are you the daughter of Alexandra and Martin Fayard?" another voice asked. I didn't move. Then they dragged me off somewhere, and sat me on what was either a sofá or bed, and closed a door. It was still. I must be alone. Slowly, I uncovered my eyes, then even mais slowly opened them. The light stung, but I insisted on keeping my eyes open so I could get used to the not-so-dark. I was in a white room, with no windows, and only a bed, chair, toilet, mirror, and a door. I was afraid to go to the door, so I just sat there on the bed. I noticed there was some comida on a tray seguinte to me. A piece of bread, and a cup of water. I carefully took a bite of the bread, but so little a piece it looked like I hadn't even touched it. I did the same with the water.
I crossed the room and looked into the mirror. The mirror we had at início was useless; it was so dark I'd never seen myself clearly. This was the first time I'd ever actually been able to see myself. I was very pale, my skin seemed to be glowing in the lights that hung overhead. I had pin-straight, dark brown hair that went about six inches past my shoulder. The most notable thing I noticed about me was my eyes. They were brown, at least what I could see of the colored part. My pupils were so big I had to really focus to see what color my eyes were. If I just glanced, my eyes looked black and empty. Trying to focus hurt my head though, and so I went back to the cama and laid down.
A long while later, the door opened. I gasped and squeezed my eyes shut. I heard the dragging of the chair across the tile floor, and it stopped in front of me. It squeaked as someone sat down.
"Honey? Can you look at me? I'm not going to hurt you," a soft voice said. The voice was soft, but it had something else to it. Kindness. Not like how my parents talked to me. Their voices were soft, but they had to be so no one would hear us. But their voices always had a mean, violent edge to them. This voice seemed kind of welcoming, which was strange because I had no idea who belonged to this voice.
I slowly opened my eyes again, to see a woman. She was very pretty. She had brown hair that was tied back into a braid. She smiled at me. I sat up quietly, and stared at her.
"Hi there..." she said faintly. Her smile was big and white. I cocked my head at her expression. I'd associated that expression with happiness. I had felt it before, but rarely did I smile. It made Daddy mad. He said there was nothing good about life. "Can you tell me your name?" I said nothing. After a while she sighed. "Are you hungry?" she gestured to the pão and water.
She asked me mindless perguntas for a long time. None of which I answered. She asked if I knew where I was, what the encontro, data was, how old I was, and other things that didn't seem to matter right now. I was itching to ask her where my parents were. But Mom said don't tell them anything. I assumed that meant don't ask them anything either. The woman sighed after a long time.
"Honey, do you know how to talk at all?" I was growing sick of her questioning. I couldn't tell them anything. That didn't mean I couldn't use body language, right? I nodded. Her eyes widened at me, and then she smiled. "Ok, that's good... Will you please talk to me?" I shook my head.
The woman thought for a while. Then she got up and left. It was a relief to be alone again. I frowned when she came back, with a pencil and a pad of paper. She handed them to me and pointed at it.
"Can you write?" Duh, I know what it's for... I rolled my eyes and scribbled something onto the piece of paper.
"Yes," I wrote.
"Can you please write your name?" I scribbled it out on the paper.
"Hecate." She nodded and mumbled something to herself.
"Ok, Hecate... Are your parents named Alexandra and Martin?"
"Yes," I wrote, "but I call them Mom and Dad."
"How old are you?"
"Eight."
"Hecate, do you know what your parents have done? They're one of the most wanted people in America."
"No, what'd they do?" I wrote. The woman opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again.
"It doesn't matter right now... But you're not going to see them again." Tears filled my eyes, and I just nodded. "C'mon, dear," she said. She stood me up and lead me to the door, where people dressed in dark blue uniforms with weird gadgets on their belts surrounded us. She spoke to them for a while, then one of them took my hand. They brought me to something I recalled being called a car. I'd never seen one in real life, only pictures my mom showed me. The man sat me in it and drove for a while, then took me to a building with the word "orphanage" across its front.
"This is Hecate... Fayard," the man told a woman. She gasped, and looked at me with a worried expression that showed intense fear.
"I'm not sure she'd get adopted... We'll just say we don't know her last name... And we might want to change her first name to something more... cheery and cute," the woman decided quickly. The man looked down at me and shook his head.
"No. We keep her first name... And let people know her last name if they wish."
"But she'll never get adopted if th--"
"Let them know if they wish," he said again. The lady took a deep breath, then smiled at me. "Um, hello Honey."
"She refuses to speak," the man told her.
"Huh?" she said.
"She prefers to write things down."
"Oh, nonsense. She's going to have to speak if she wants to get adopted." The woman came around to the front of the counter and knelt down seguinte to me. "Honey. Speak. Say something," she said. I did not. She asked me again. I gave her the same silent response. Then she grew angry and shook my shoulders hard. I began crying, and tried to fight her off.
"Hey! Leave her alone!" the man said. The woman grimaced at me and stood up. The man took my hand, and I cringed into his side.
"She'll never get adopted," she sighed. "I'll get her to her room--"
"No. I will," he said. She waited for a moment, then gave him directions. "C'mon," he said, still holding my hand. He guided me down a long hallway, and a bunch of kids ran past us. I avoided bumping into them, and also avoided eye contact. "I'm Officer Truman, por the way... But you can call me Dan if you like."
Officer Truman walked me down the hall a little while longer, until we came to a room. There was an old cama in it, along with a dresser and small rocking chair. Officer Truman let go of my hand, and I went and sat on the bed, looking around the room. He went and sat on the rocking chair and looked at me.
"We're going to get your things from your house later. Do you have any family members?" he asked. I shook my head. He sighed. "Well... You'll be ok." He stood up and headed for the door. I bit my lip, and then gave up.
"Wait!" I said. He stopped, and looked at me with big eyes. "Do I have to stay here?" I asked. He was speechless for a moment, then nodded.
"We're going to look for a início for you. Until then, you stay here." He left.
Other police officers brought my stuff from my house a little while later, and made the room seem like my own. Only this room was bigger than the one I had at home. They all asked me questions, which I was sick of answering. So I neither talked, or even bothered to nod or shake my head. I simply tuned them out, and looked at the as cores on my blanket; it was so strange to see them in the light like this.
I was adopted half a ano later, por a newly wed couple. I didn't speak to them. There was something about them that made them seem... bad. I don't know how to explain it. They weren't mean people, but it seemed like they were trying too hard to be nice to me. So I didn't even bother. They returned me to the orphanage a couple weeks later.
I was adopted again two years later. The family had a daughter a little older than me, and a five ano old boy. They just annoyed me and so I didn't talk to them either. They returned me a couple months later.
Soon after, less and less people asked about adopting me. The woman at the front desk, Ms. Bayer, told them about my history. She told them I was stubborn, and had something called "selective mutism." I didn't like her. Officer Truman visited me often. I liked him a lot better than Ms. Bayer. He told me funny stories and jokes. I talked to him every once in a while, but it was usually a pergunta or small comment. Usually if it was a yes or no question, I just nod or shake my head. If I can, I usually point to what I'm talking about and let them figure out what I mean.
"Officer Truman?" I said in a mousy voice. He raised his eyebrows at me. I stroked the teddy urso he had given me for natal last year. "How come no one wants me?"
"What do you mean, Hecate?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows. I didn't look at him; I don't like to make eye contact, especially when I'm talking. Instead I stared out in front of me, while Officer Truman sat in the rocking chair to my right.
"They don't like me," I said softly.
"Who's they?" he asked. I looked at him, irritated.
"Everyone."
"It's just... difficult for people to understand you. You don't exactly let people in." I frowned and shrugged. "Maybe if you try talking to people more, then mais people will seem to like you. And it's not that they don't, they just don't know you." I shrugged again. "Well, I gotta go... See ya, Hecate." He patted my back and stood up. He was about to leave, when he stopped and smiled. "And I didn't forget," he said. He reached into his pocket and handed me a small box. "Happy tenth birthday." I signed "thank you;" I put my fingers to my lips, keeping a flat hand, and then moved it out in front of me, ending up with my palm facing the sky. "No problem," he smiled, then left.
I opened the small box, and took out Officer Truman's gift. It was a silver necklace, with a small coração charm. On the charm was carved the word, "strength." I mentally thanked Officer Truman again, and put it around my neck.
Then it was time for school. To save money, Ms. Bayer has kids ages fourteen and under be home-schooled. She used to be an elementary school teacher, but she also had a degree for middle school. Once the kids here are about to go to high school, that's when they start public school. I hope I don't make it to high school. Maybe if I could be held back, I could stay here forever. I don't care if that means I never get adopted, and that I'll be here forever with Ms. Bayer. Public school scares me too much.
I sit down seguinte to a little girl named Ella, who's five, as Ms. Bayer begins our English lesson.
*****
I'm not so sure if I want to continue with this story... Tell me what you think :)
I never went to school. Mom taught me what she thought was important. I barely knew how to read or write. My dad taught me how to be stealthy, how to mover around the apartment so quietly that the neighbors thought it was unoccupied.
I wasn't the greatest at it though.
When I was eight years old, the police found them. It was the scariest moment in my life. The apartment was always dark, no lights, the curtains were always closed, then all of a sudden the door flew open, and light poured in. It was the strangest thing I'd ever seen. It lit up the whole room, making it so easy to see. But my eyes were so adjusted to the dark, it was painful to look at the light. I cried out and covered my eyes, and my parents were shouting at the people to leave me alone.
"Don't tell them anything! Don't tell them anything!" Mom shouted. I curled up into a ball, and refused to open my eyes. I felt hands grab my arms, and drag me outside; a place I'd never been. I still refused to look. I knew I couldn't trust them, but these people were so much stronger than me. They sat me somewhere, and a door slammed behind me. They strapped something across me, and then it felt like I was moving.
"Kid, would you open your eyes?" a deep voice asked from in front of me. "Look at me!" I shook my head side to side, still keeping my eyes and mouth closed. After a while the movement stopped. I heard the door open, and they ripped me out, dragging me across. I could see light through my eyelids, and I squeezed them shut more. mais doors, mais walking, and then they sat me in a chair. A light shined in my face, that still burned even with my eyes squeezed shut, and I covered them with my hands.
"Are you the daughter of Alexandra and Martin Fayard?" another voice asked. I didn't move. Then they dragged me off somewhere, and sat me on what was either a sofá or bed, and closed a door. It was still. I must be alone. Slowly, I uncovered my eyes, then even mais slowly opened them. The light stung, but I insisted on keeping my eyes open so I could get used to the not-so-dark. I was in a white room, with no windows, and only a bed, chair, toilet, mirror, and a door. I was afraid to go to the door, so I just sat there on the bed. I noticed there was some comida on a tray seguinte to me. A piece of bread, and a cup of water. I carefully took a bite of the bread, but so little a piece it looked like I hadn't even touched it. I did the same with the water.
I crossed the room and looked into the mirror. The mirror we had at início was useless; it was so dark I'd never seen myself clearly. This was the first time I'd ever actually been able to see myself. I was very pale, my skin seemed to be glowing in the lights that hung overhead. I had pin-straight, dark brown hair that went about six inches past my shoulder. The most notable thing I noticed about me was my eyes. They were brown, at least what I could see of the colored part. My pupils were so big I had to really focus to see what color my eyes were. If I just glanced, my eyes looked black and empty. Trying to focus hurt my head though, and so I went back to the cama and laid down.
A long while later, the door opened. I gasped and squeezed my eyes shut. I heard the dragging of the chair across the tile floor, and it stopped in front of me. It squeaked as someone sat down.
"Honey? Can you look at me? I'm not going to hurt you," a soft voice said. The voice was soft, but it had something else to it. Kindness. Not like how my parents talked to me. Their voices were soft, but they had to be so no one would hear us. But their voices always had a mean, violent edge to them. This voice seemed kind of welcoming, which was strange because I had no idea who belonged to this voice.
I slowly opened my eyes again, to see a woman. She was very pretty. She had brown hair that was tied back into a braid. She smiled at me. I sat up quietly, and stared at her.
"Hi there..." she said faintly. Her smile was big and white. I cocked my head at her expression. I'd associated that expression with happiness. I had felt it before, but rarely did I smile. It made Daddy mad. He said there was nothing good about life. "Can you tell me your name?" I said nothing. After a while she sighed. "Are you hungry?" she gestured to the pão and water.
She asked me mindless perguntas for a long time. None of which I answered. She asked if I knew where I was, what the encontro, data was, how old I was, and other things that didn't seem to matter right now. I was itching to ask her where my parents were. But Mom said don't tell them anything. I assumed that meant don't ask them anything either. The woman sighed after a long time.
"Honey, do you know how to talk at all?" I was growing sick of her questioning. I couldn't tell them anything. That didn't mean I couldn't use body language, right? I nodded. Her eyes widened at me, and then she smiled. "Ok, that's good... Will you please talk to me?" I shook my head.
The woman thought for a while. Then she got up and left. It was a relief to be alone again. I frowned when she came back, with a pencil and a pad of paper. She handed them to me and pointed at it.
"Can you write?" Duh, I know what it's for... I rolled my eyes and scribbled something onto the piece of paper.
"Yes," I wrote.
"Can you please write your name?" I scribbled it out on the paper.
"Hecate." She nodded and mumbled something to herself.
"Ok, Hecate... Are your parents named Alexandra and Martin?"
"Yes," I wrote, "but I call them Mom and Dad."
"How old are you?"
"Eight."
"Hecate, do you know what your parents have done? They're one of the most wanted people in America."
"No, what'd they do?" I wrote. The woman opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again.
"It doesn't matter right now... But you're not going to see them again." Tears filled my eyes, and I just nodded. "C'mon, dear," she said. She stood me up and lead me to the door, where people dressed in dark blue uniforms with weird gadgets on their belts surrounded us. She spoke to them for a while, then one of them took my hand. They brought me to something I recalled being called a car. I'd never seen one in real life, only pictures my mom showed me. The man sat me in it and drove for a while, then took me to a building with the word "orphanage" across its front.
"This is Hecate... Fayard," the man told a woman. She gasped, and looked at me with a worried expression that showed intense fear.
"I'm not sure she'd get adopted... We'll just say we don't know her last name... And we might want to change her first name to something more... cheery and cute," the woman decided quickly. The man looked down at me and shook his head.
"No. We keep her first name... And let people know her last name if they wish."
"But she'll never get adopted if th--"
"Let them know if they wish," he said again. The lady took a deep breath, then smiled at me. "Um, hello Honey."
"She refuses to speak," the man told her.
"Huh?" she said.
"She prefers to write things down."
"Oh, nonsense. She's going to have to speak if she wants to get adopted." The woman came around to the front of the counter and knelt down seguinte to me. "Honey. Speak. Say something," she said. I did not. She asked me again. I gave her the same silent response. Then she grew angry and shook my shoulders hard. I began crying, and tried to fight her off.
"Hey! Leave her alone!" the man said. The woman grimaced at me and stood up. The man took my hand, and I cringed into his side.
"She'll never get adopted," she sighed. "I'll get her to her room--"
"No. I will," he said. She waited for a moment, then gave him directions. "C'mon," he said, still holding my hand. He guided me down a long hallway, and a bunch of kids ran past us. I avoided bumping into them, and also avoided eye contact. "I'm Officer Truman, por the way... But you can call me Dan if you like."
Officer Truman walked me down the hall a little while longer, until we came to a room. There was an old cama in it, along with a dresser and small rocking chair. Officer Truman let go of my hand, and I went and sat on the bed, looking around the room. He went and sat on the rocking chair and looked at me.
"We're going to get your things from your house later. Do you have any family members?" he asked. I shook my head. He sighed. "Well... You'll be ok." He stood up and headed for the door. I bit my lip, and then gave up.
"Wait!" I said. He stopped, and looked at me with big eyes. "Do I have to stay here?" I asked. He was speechless for a moment, then nodded.
"We're going to look for a início for you. Until then, you stay here." He left.
Other police officers brought my stuff from my house a little while later, and made the room seem like my own. Only this room was bigger than the one I had at home. They all asked me questions, which I was sick of answering. So I neither talked, or even bothered to nod or shake my head. I simply tuned them out, and looked at the as cores on my blanket; it was so strange to see them in the light like this.
I was adopted half a ano later, por a newly wed couple. I didn't speak to them. There was something about them that made them seem... bad. I don't know how to explain it. They weren't mean people, but it seemed like they were trying too hard to be nice to me. So I didn't even bother. They returned me to the orphanage a couple weeks later.
I was adopted again two years later. The family had a daughter a little older than me, and a five ano old boy. They just annoyed me and so I didn't talk to them either. They returned me a couple months later.
Soon after, less and less people asked about adopting me. The woman at the front desk, Ms. Bayer, told them about my history. She told them I was stubborn, and had something called "selective mutism." I didn't like her. Officer Truman visited me often. I liked him a lot better than Ms. Bayer. He told me funny stories and jokes. I talked to him every once in a while, but it was usually a pergunta or small comment. Usually if it was a yes or no question, I just nod or shake my head. If I can, I usually point to what I'm talking about and let them figure out what I mean.
"Officer Truman?" I said in a mousy voice. He raised his eyebrows at me. I stroked the teddy urso he had given me for natal last year. "How come no one wants me?"
"What do you mean, Hecate?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows. I didn't look at him; I don't like to make eye contact, especially when I'm talking. Instead I stared out in front of me, while Officer Truman sat in the rocking chair to my right.
"They don't like me," I said softly.
"Who's they?" he asked. I looked at him, irritated.
"Everyone."
"It's just... difficult for people to understand you. You don't exactly let people in." I frowned and shrugged. "Maybe if you try talking to people more, then mais people will seem to like you. And it's not that they don't, they just don't know you." I shrugged again. "Well, I gotta go... See ya, Hecate." He patted my back and stood up. He was about to leave, when he stopped and smiled. "And I didn't forget," he said. He reached into his pocket and handed me a small box. "Happy tenth birthday." I signed "thank you;" I put my fingers to my lips, keeping a flat hand, and then moved it out in front of me, ending up with my palm facing the sky. "No problem," he smiled, then left.
I opened the small box, and took out Officer Truman's gift. It was a silver necklace, with a small coração charm. On the charm was carved the word, "strength." I mentally thanked Officer Truman again, and put it around my neck.
Then it was time for school. To save money, Ms. Bayer has kids ages fourteen and under be home-schooled. She used to be an elementary school teacher, but she also had a degree for middle school. Once the kids here are about to go to high school, that's when they start public school. I hope I don't make it to high school. Maybe if I could be held back, I could stay here forever. I don't care if that means I never get adopted, and that I'll be here forever with Ms. Bayer. Public school scares me too much.
I sit down seguinte to a little girl named Ella, who's five, as Ms. Bayer begins our English lesson.
*****
I'm not so sure if I want to continue with this story... Tell me what you think :)
"Good por danny," I said beijar him on the cheek one last time."we may not see each other again but I will remember you." for the past week danny and i have been dating on a crusie. (sorry spelling? my mind is not working today.)We both knew the dia would come when we would not be able to see each other. Now it had come. I hugged him and walked down the gang plank.
4 months later
I went to the camp I had worked at for two years now. It was all so familar when I bummed into my best friend Max. He reminded me off Danny. But when ever I saw danny he reminded me of him. Was it max who I really liked and not danny? There's only one way to find out "max?" I said to him "What?" he said. "Da ya think we could..... like go to a movie or somthing?" "sure!" he said. And we had a great time.
4 months later
I went to the camp I had worked at for two years now. It was all so familar when I bummed into my best friend Max. He reminded me off Danny. But when ever I saw danny he reminded me of him. Was it max who I really liked and not danny? There's only one way to find out "max?" I said to him "What?" he said. "Da ya think we could..... like go to a movie or somthing?" "sure!" he said. And we had a great time.