Letter From a Dead Girl

Part 3

       Well, Will, after that everything had looked like it was going to work out. A teacher at my school saw my black eye the day after my dad hit me. She finally put two-and-two together and reported my dad to Child Services. They took me away the last week of summer, telling me that I was being taken to live with my Aunt and Uncle. I had been so excited to get away from that horrible place, it felt like I had just reached the top of a hill after a strenuous journey and was looking down to see paradise.
    I remember my last day in South Carolina. It was humid, similar to most other days. Everything was covered in a layer of water, for my dad had forgotten to turn the sprinklers off the night before. I had been thinking about how it looked as if everything was sweating from the heat when they came. They rode up the narrow driveway in their small, shiny blue car, the wheels barely staying on track against the rough gravel. My heart had leapt in my chest as I walk out the screen door for the last time. I hadn't believed that it was actually happening. That I had actually been leaving everything that had made my life miserable behind.
    I looked back that day, as I stood in the doorway. I had raised my hand, meaning to wave goodbye, but when my dad turned so his back my facing me, I quickly lowered it. I walked out through the doorway, straining my ears for any goodbyes, but none come. Instead, I heard him mumble 'Didn't want you here anyways'. I was hit with such a huge wave of conflicted feelings, I nearly stopped in my tracks right then. I had been happy to leave the terrible house, but I could help but feel as if I wasn't wanted anywhere. My dad hadn't wanted me there, maybe my other relatives were going to have similar feelings. I shook my head to dismiss the thought, of course they were going to like me. Or at least that's what I thought then.
    The hour flight had gone by in a blur. I had been so excited I nearly jumped out of my seat and yelled 'Hallelujah', fortunately I was able to contain myself. I raced out of the car as soon as we arrived, wishing for the vision in my mind to be true, of a woman and a man with welcoming smiles on their faces. I can still see it years later.
    The woman would be wearing a light blue dress, with a white apron covering her front. She would have shoulder-length, curly hair, which would bob up and down when she moved. Her delicate hands would be holding a baking pan straight out of the oven, which would be emitting the intoxicatingly irresistible smell of freshly baked brownies. And standing at the woman's right would be a tall man, with his huge but soft hand resting on her left shoulder.
    He would be wearing light jeans, the bottoms hanging over his worn-in sneakers and just short enough that they didn't drag against the newly cut grass. On top of his short cut hair would rest a gray baseball hat, matching his dark band t-shirt. The band would be Fun, and I would comment on how that was my favorite band too. And then we would have a long debate about their best albums and which songs have the best beat. They would accept me as they would their own daughter and we would become a family. Everything would be perfect.
    But when my gaze fell on the old, flaking porch I didn't find what I was looking for. There were no people standing their with warm smiles. There was no woman with curly hair and delicate hands holding a baking pan fresh from the oven. There was no man with worn-in sneakers and baseball hat wearing a Fun t-shirt. Instead there was nothing except voices echoing in the house and spilling out into the street. But for some reason I hadn't been disappointed. It was almost as if I had already known that I would never have a life like that.
    That was the day, Will, that I stopped praying for a better future; for I knew my wishes wouldn't be answered.