Anastasia

Chapter IV

Over the next few days, everything seemed to be so unreal. Full meals, 8 hours of sleep (usually more), and New Mom caring to my every need. Eventually I got used the the schedule. New Father went to work everyday, which he took a bus and a train to get to a big office dressed in Sunday's best. New Mom went to college every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, leaving all the children alone, unless Violet was to come home. 

I had met Violet a few times in the past week, on Wednesday and Friday(She explained that she had a  boring test to take on Monday). She was a very tall women who had big brown eyes and light brown hair that fell down to her butt, although both time I had saw her she had it in a braid so who knows how long it is without it being twisted up. She had dark, tan skin, unlike her siblings and parents. She looked really pretty like a princess. She talked to me a lot, especially when Taylor went to her cello lessons (which are held every Friday) and I had no one to talk to. We talked about my life and then she told me about herself. She was going to college to learn about history. Her favorite subject was the time of knights, princesses, and witches. I nodded my head, although I didn't know how to respond. I knew so much about the subject of witches that it felt weird if I spilled all my information on her. Instead I nodded and talked about how I like princesses.

Violet told me that I was part of the family. She stared into my eyes and whispered the greatest words I've heard since I've entered this family besides when New Mom told me I was part of this family, "Anastasia... I've been with this family for a long time. They will always love you. Sometimes you will get in fights, and sometimes it'll be awkward, especially to you being... adopted." She said 'adopted' as if it was a terrible word-a cuss word. "Even if you decide to grow up to be a burglar or a murderer. They will save up all money to bail you out." Violet seemed to be serious even though the subject of anyone in this family being a murderer or burglar seemed so far fetched. 

What if I killed one of New Mom's children? A random thought popped in my head. I wanted to ask it, even though I would never kill anyone in this family. Just, what if? Would they still bail me out and forgive me? I knew if I asked the question Violet would look at me as if I was crazy and the conversation would be awkwardly put to the side, and she would want to wish she never heard it. But this conversation seemed to be going somewhere important and I wanted to see what would be said next.

Violet sighed. "Do you know why Mom and Dad like taking in adopted children like yourself and Alek?" The question was obviously rhetorical because I would have no clue whatsoever on why they pick up children from the streets. She stared into my eyes and said, "Our mom lived a terrible life. Her mother abused her and left her on the streets, her father was dead at the time. She spent 14 years on a bench. When she saw you, in the same predicament, she just had to help you. She saw you and it made her sad because it reminded her of herself. Her goal in life is to save children from foster homes or street sidewalks until she's too old to fill out adoption papers."

For a while the whole house seemed to be silent. That was until you could hear the voices of Percy and Aleksander running into the house and playing tag like a pack of wild animals. Violet didn't even say anything about it, only a solemn glare that told them to stay away from us. They followed the glare and continued to play everywhere except in the kitchen.

After a while of quietness, she explained that she had to leave to her house to finish her collage homework. I nodded and she left, without even saying goodbye to the boys, leaving me to explain that she had homework to do. Although something had told me that that was a lie and she was just going home to cry or wind down before trying to make any contact with two running boys. I sat down at that kitchen table thinking hard about my life in the past day. How only a few days ago I was living on the street thinking about how perfect my death would be: sleeping quietly on a park bench. People all around me walking past in black or gray. They didn't know I was dead, but somehow everyone on the street knew to wear black or gray. They knew something sad was going on, and that black was the perfect thing to wear that day. Of course, I was brought into this family before anything close to that had happened, which is something that I should be happy about. I think.