Belonging

C9: Fear

"Leave me alone." I say, my voice sounding oddly confident. "Do you think I want to be here either?"

Demian smirks, and I'm unsure of the source of his amusement until I look at the doorframe, seeing Ivan standing there. His gaze is zeroed in on me.

Demian drums his hands on the counter, flashing me a satisfied grin. He saunters out and Ivan walks back in.

Ivan looks down at me. "You know we didn't have to take you in. We weren't going to."

I feel something crack in my chest. I didn't really mean what I said, but I also kind of did. I don't want to be here but I don't want to be at the care home either. I want to be nowhere.

I didn't know they didn't want me though. I guess it kind of makes sense with the way they act toward me, but his proclamation still stings. I've gone my whole life hearing about how my real family clearly didn't love or want me if they put me into care, but to hear it from your family hurts more than I ever thought it would. I thought I was hardened to insults like the ones Demian just said to me, but I'm not. I don't think anybody ever can be.

"If you want I'll go talk to Petro right now and he can have someone ready to take you back to your care home tomorrow. Shall I go do that?"

I shake my head.

"Then be grateful we took pity on you and that you're here and not there. And watch yourself, or you'll go right back." His emotionless eyes scan my face. "Understand?"

I nod.

"Good." He says gruffly. "It'll be done in a minute," he adds, talking about the food. "Get it out when the timer goes off, eat down here, then wash your plate when you're done."

He leaves without another word.

I don't sleep that night. I go downstairs at four a.m. to get myself some breakfast, and as my toast heats up my eyes trail to the window in the back door, revealing their gigantic back garden. I open the door and step outside, breathing in the fresh air that swoops into my lungs. It clears my head, and for a moment it feels like anything is possible until I remember where and who I am.

I deflate a little bit, furrowing my eyebrows when my gaze catches on a slip in the large fence surrounding the property from the back of the house. I go over, leaving the door open. It's large, and I'm able to slip through it pretty easily. My socks get dirty as I advance through the woodland behind the property, seeing if this pathway carved out into the dirt leads to anything. Maybe it'll take me to a magical land where nobody is mean to me.

Doubtful.

As I continue walking the path fizzles out until it's back to being grass. I wade through it, my eyes widening when I see a small den.

Thick logs are leaned up against each other, creating a triangular shape. There's a splintery bench in the centre, surrounded by notebooks.

I go over to it and sit down on the bench. I grab one of the notebooks and open it, revealing a diary entry. I grab a small flashlight that I see too, shining it on the yellowing paper.

13/04/2019

Dear Diary,

I sound like a fucking girl when I write that. But my therapist gave me this book and she's hot so I don't want to disappoint her.

This week has been shit. I feel empty. I hate my father. My mother too. They're both cunts. I could be doing something better with my life right now but NO they had to go and rope me into all of this shit.