The Forgotten Twin

Chapter 1: A Tragic Backstory

My fourteenth birthday is tomorrow. July 31st. You probably don't care, nobody does. It has always been like that. I should probably tell you the short version of the story though. My parents died in a car crash when I was little. I don't really remember their faces, just their voices. Every night I have nightmares of a blinding green light, screaming, and someone crying. I think it was a man. He was hunched over a body, tears freely flowing down his face. I was hugging someone, I can't remember who though. I think it was a boy. Nobody comforts me after these dreams. Here, dreams are thought of as a weakness. Everyone thinks I'm a weak, helpless, stupid, little girl. I'm not.
In the past thirteen almost fourteen years of my life, I have lived with 20 different foster families. They always hate me. One family gave me a concussion. They got mad at me and slammed a frying pan on my head. The doctors said it was a miracle I lived. Then they discovered the lightning bolt shaped scar on my neck and kept asking questions. It's been there forever as far as I know. After that I was taken out of foster care. The government found a kind elderly couple to adopt me. They gladly took me in. Their names are Melinda Ataman and Charlie Ataman. They have a daughter but she is all grown up. I have been living with them for three weeks so far.
       So that's my backstory. It's a pretty sad one in my opinion. Now that you know my backstory, you know a little bit about me. Maybe we can be friends. Like I said, nobody really cares about me besides the Ataman's, so I have never had any friends. I guess I never needed any friends. Oh, my name is Heather by the way. Heather Potter.