I just figured this might be a better way to organize things around here on this crazy, slightly messy blog of mine. So, I will now be putting all of the chapters of my short story, "The Neglected" on this page for your convenience. Thanks for your support!
Live long and prosper,
Emmy
Chapter 1
I had never had reasonable or rational reactions to shocking situations, but this reaction I had never predicted nor expected. As the nurse told me that my mother was dead, I felt nothing but numbness and emptiness, so I did nothing. Absolutely nothing. I just looked back into the cold, unfeeling pale blue eyes of the woman who had just told me that the only thing that was left, the only thing that mattered to me, had just chosen to take her life away from us by intentional drug overdose. The nurse gave me every bit of this information completely free from sympathy or remorse. At that point, I realized that I had become so infuriated with the world, my life, the people around me, that I needed to be alone for a while, otherwise my anger would be taken out on an undeserving bystander. So, I decided it was for my ten year old sister's sake. As I rose from my chair, face still emotionless, Olivia spoke for the first and last time that day. "Where are you going, Jo?" inquired the teary-eyed, ashen-faced girl. Although Olivia and I had never been considered close, I knew her well enough to realize that although she was naturally pale, I had never seen her look as sickly as on this day. She was far past frightened: she was terrified. This implied that the same question was running through both of our minds; "What's going to happen to us now?" The only answer I could think of, since I was only sixteen and far from turning eighteen, was orphanage. The very thought of this possibility made me cringe, so much so that I knew that I needed to get out of Olivia's sight, and fast. "Umm, I'll be right back Liv, I just need to go outside and get some fresh air. It's stuffy in here, okay?" Olivia solemnly nodded, as I knew she would. Little did I know that the question that she had previously asked me would be the last time I would hear her soothing voice hear her soothing voice of innocence for many dark weeks to come.
Chapter 2
As expected, Olivia and I weren't given much time for grieving. Only a day and a half after our mother's funeral, we were approached by the most intimidating social worker I had ever seen. Appropriately, this meeting was held at the New York City Orphanage, where we would be staying miserably. During the meeting, the social worker and I basically evaluated the facts of my depressing existence: that I was too young to care for Olivia on my own (which I attempted to argue, but realized that it was hopeless), that we had no other living relatives, and that we would either have to stay in this awful dump of an orphanage, or we could be taken in by a foster family. Obviously, this meeting was far from uplifting. I turned to hear Olivia's thoughts about our decision as I suddenly remembered that no matter how much I tried to pry into the little girl's mind, she wouldn't ever speak her true feelings.
I could almost feel the pressure of our decision that had belonged to Olivia transfer to my shoulders, and I could most definitely feel the weight of it pushing down on me. It was her own way of grieving, which I both understood and respected, but deep within myself there was the burning question of how long it would last. As I prayed that she wouldn't remain willfully mute forever, I considered our situation. I arrived at the conclusion that our chance at happiness would be much greater if we chose to allow foster parents. "Mr. Brooks, am I allowed to make this decision completely on my own?" I inquired hopefully. He nodded his head, just once, in a simple fashion. "Then, on behalf of my sister and I," I began, " I would like to make the decision to have a foster family." He just looked in my direction. I couldn't tell if he was glaring directly at me because although it was dimly lit in the poverty-stricken orphanage, the mysterious man still had his sunglasses on.
"Are you sure that this is what you want to do, Miss Adams? You have to keep in mind that not many couples in New York City are willing to be foster parents and some of them aren't exactly as fit for parenting as you might expect." I responded quickly: "Well, Mr. Brooks, I figure that it's much safer for both me and Olivia to be in a place where there's a chance that you won't get beaten up every day." He gave me what looked like a disbelieving glance. "Oh, come on, Joanna. You wouldn't get beaten up every day." He rapidly scanned the room, seeing all of the kids with signs of definite violent streaks revealed in their faces. He leaned across the table and slid his sunglasses down to the end of his nose in order to make eye contact with me when he spoke. "Alright, maybe just every other day." He smiled for what looked like the first time in a very long while. This instantly put a smile on my own face, and although she didn't want anyone, especially me, to see it, a small grin on Olivia's face as well.
Chapter 3
“I hope you girls realize how lucky you are that this offer came through,” said Bryan Brooks a week after our first meeting with him. At this point, he and I had become best friends. Since Olivia and I had to stay at the orphanage until foster parents could be found for us, Bryan had called us every night and met with us every day. He had tried to convince us that these check-ins were just to “get a read on our mental states.” I, however, was able to read people and knew that the real reason was that he lived alone and had a very limited number of other clients. Therefore, he enjoyed talking to me and seeing Olivia because it let him escape from that loneliness, even if these opportunities were brief. Of course, he also wanted to make sure that, as he put it, “we don’t get beaten up, or jumped in the lunch line or anything else that happens in those prison movies.” He had a very justifiable reason for concern; although to this day I have never been to prison, I am almost certain that it is very similar to this orphanage in which we temporarily resided. But all of that didn't matter anymore because this was our chance to escape.
“We really do appreciate everything that you've done for us, Bryan,” I said thoughtfully and sincerely. I had grown accustomed to speaking as both Olivia and myself, always saying “we” instead of “I” and just hoping that she agreed with what I was saying. I looked up at him with a slight smile on my face. He slyly grinned back. “Well, Jo, you’re just lucky that you and Olivia aren't hard to get along with.” This caught my attention. Bryan wasn't the type of person that always threw kind words around. If you got positive statements from him, you really deserved them. “Was that…almost a compliment?” I put my hand to my ear for dramatic effect. He laughed his deep, throaty chuckle. “Almost,” he agreed, and that was a good enough accomplishment for me.
We continued walking down the streets of New York City until we reached Times Square. I had to continually check on Olivia to make sure we hadn't lost her in all of the hustle-and-bustle of the city. The city that I grew up in, the city that I loved… I attempted to use looking after Olivia as a distraction from all of the memories I had of my mother, sister, and me in this same location. Unfortunately, this distraction was to no avail and as we got closer and closer to the place in the street where I remembered her last, the sting of her loss became unbearable inside of me. Before I knew it, the tears were streaming down my face. At that moment, Bryan glanced back at Olivia and I to see my face, glistening with the tears reflecting my pain and immeasurable sorrow. It took him a moment, but after his sudden but delayed realization, he came rushing to my aid.
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