Chapter Two:A New Home (Aza's POV)

3.4K 44 0
  • Dedicated to Teresa Robertson (My Mom)
                                    

    After what felt like forever, we finally arrived at the house. It was a tall brick home, and in all honesty, reminded me of an old victorian. And not a good one. I grabbed my luggage from the trunk and followed Angie into the old home. Once we stepped inside we were surrounded by yellow walls and black furniture covered in doilies and flowers. The curtains were stained white lace, and the floors cheap carpet. It was an interior decorator's nightmare.

    She led me down the hall to a faded brown door. I opened the door and nearly dropped dead at what I saw. Bright pink walls, white furniture, a tiny twin bed with pink all over, kitten pictures everywhere. Oh my God, did this insane woman actually think someone would like this? I plunked my duffel and boxes onto the ground. "This is my room?" I asked, totally and completely horrified.

    "Of course dear. Do you like it?" Her voice was lilting. And did she think I liked it? I was horrified!

    "It isn't really my style...at all." I grumbled. No one in their right minds could like a room like this.

    "Oh. Well, you can personalize it and so on, and we could have Willy paint the walls for you. What color? Oh, no black or green or blue or orange. Those are boy colors. No polite young  lady would have a room decorated in such colors. Oh,and no brown because it makes us seem dull. So what color do you want?" She said all of this with a sickeningly sweet smile. She was reminding me of a dictator.

    "Um,  I guess violet. And the bedspread and pictures need to go. I have bedspread that will work fine, and I have posters and pictures and things in the boxes." I said. I wished I was back at home. I wish I was with my mom. She would never do this to someone. She'd leave the room as a blank slate, let you do whatever you wanted with it.

    "But deary, wasn't your other room violet? Let's do something different. Oh, those posters, are they of men? If so, we won't allow them. The pictures will be put in frames and displayed outside in the hall. Let's just leave the room as it is. We worked hard on it." I wanted to strangle her.

    I opened my mouth to speak, but she was out the door before I could say a word. Well, now that I am alone I can plan this room's demise. I will buy paint and paint the walls at night. I'll put up my posters and pictures as I please and I will use my old comforter. Perfect plan. The old bat can't order me around just because she's fostering me.

  A while later I heard,  "Azalee, time for supper!" Angie yelled. For somebody so short and fat she sure does have good lungs. I scowled and went into the dining room. They had everything set up just so. I nearly gagged when I saw the food on the table. Tofu and a bunch of veggie dishes. Yuck. I looked away from the meal to see the people who were also there and saw only Angie.

    "Where's Jacob and William?" I asked. I didn't think I 'd get an answer. But I did. A delusional one.

    "Oh, Willy had business meeting and Jacob is with his delightful friend hunter's house." She didn't look like she believed herself. Willy, the poor sap, is most likely is having an affair and Jacob is doing drugs and gulping down all the meat he can find. 

    "Okay." We left it at that, not bothering to continue a conversation that neither of us cared about. I could tell this was a dysfunctional family and that just dropped my opinion even lower. I mean my family wasn't perfect, but we all loved each other. Angie and her imperfect group obviously didn't.

    I choked down the horrific food (and let me tell you, it doesn't matter if you are starved for weeks, no one would willingly eat that junk) and escaped to my room. As awful as it was, it was a place where I could be completely alone. It was my sanctuary, and would be more so once I got my things in place.

   I put on pjs swiftly, then lay down under the pink covers. Pressing my head into the pillow, the last thought I had before sleep claimed me was, 'This may be a god-awful home, but it's a home. It's more than I would've been able to have on my own. So thank you God, for this perfectly imperfect new home.

Dark MoonWhere stories live. Discover now