My suitcase scratched the pebbles as we made our way to the door. The long driveway, walled in with hedges came to an abrupt end as we arrived practically on the doorstep of my new "home."
The white building looked as if it was straight from a postcard or something like that. But my expression remained as cold as my attitude.
Margaret, my social worker, knocked on the large, red door. I immediately pulled my jumper sleeves over my hands, something I did when I was nervous.
It took an age before the door opened. I was greeted by a man with blonde hair and a nose ring. He shook my hand. "Hi, my name is Patrick Walters and I run the Home here in San Diego. "
He gestured for me to come in so I did. He led both me and Margaret into the kitchen. The kitchen was mostly wooden and seemed very cozy.
He boiled the kettle and began to make tea. "The rest of the kids are either at school or at the park. I wanted to give you time to settle in," he said in his slightly nasally and cheerful voice.
I drank my tea in silence as I sang songs in my head. Margaret and Patrick talked about boring things like my history, things I've sat through billions of times before.
"would you like to see your room now Victor, " he asked. "Vic, and whatever " I replied coldly. Margaret shot me a glare but Patrick didn't seem to care.
He led me up two flights of stairs into a small room. It was painted white with blue linen on the wooden, single bed. "You can meet our therapist in the morning after breakfast, but I'll leave you to unpack. " he said before leaving the room. I said goodbye to Margaret and began emptying my suitcase and putting my clothes and things in the wooden wardrobe and chests.
I was sitting on the stairs listening to slipknot when the front door opened and a group of people around my age poured in the hall shouting and talking. The eyes of everyone landed on me as the room silenced. One boy with long black hair and piercing blue eyes stared at me. "Who the fuck are you," he spat, his attitude matching mine. I sighed loudly.
Well this is gonna be fun.
YOU ARE READING
Kissing Razors (kellic)(boyxboy)
FanfictionHow would you cope if you were sent to a troubled children's home. How would you cope if you keep being reminded of your past How would you cope if you begin to fall in love with someone just as messed up as you. That's the reality for Vic Fuentes...