яαιѕє α gℓαѕѕ тσ fяєє∂σм ☆ adopted by a.ham

тωσ

   I sat down on the edge of the mattress, looking outside at the blue sky through the foggy window. The sound of Mr. Arnold already taking a loud nap in the other room wafted through the walls. I heard a snore, and I instantly knew this was going to be a rough year and a half.

~~~

   I woke up to the sound of Mr. Arnold yelling. I quickly raced downstairs to see what was wrong. "What's the matter, sir?" I asked, panicked.
   He glared at me. "Don't use that tone with me. This is your usual wake up call."
   I glanced at the clock on the wall ticking away. "Sir, it's still five in the morning..."
   "I don't care. Make me breakfast, and do it fast. I have to leave this house at six thirty sharp."
   I nodded frantically. "Yes, sir."
   He trudged upstairs while I scrounged for food in the pantry. I was wondering why he was doing this to me, basically treating me like a slave. Maybe that's why he adopted me?
   After I was finished I set it on the table. As if on que, he limped downstairs. "Is it ready?" he grunted. I said no reply, just nodded. He sat down to eat while I hungrily watched.
   Mr. Arnold took notice of my staring. "Go get your own food, pest!" he spat, then continued devouring. I yelped and sprinted up the stairs to the attic.
   The sun was barely rising, so I assumed it was around five thirty. I heaved a sigh and stared out the window.
   What made him act this way? I really wanted to know. I wish I count help him be happier or something, maybe brighten up his day.
   As I sat and thought while getting dressed, I heard the front door open and then shut. I realized with a jolt that it was six thirty. Mr. Arnold was going to work for the rest of the day.
   I dashed downstairs in delight. My stomach grumbled for food. As fast as I could, I cooked something to eat and stuffed it in my mouth. I smiled, feeling satisfied with myself.
   Though, I did feel kinda guilty. We didn't have much food left. I guess it was because Mr. Arnold was poor. Perhaps he wasn't treating me like his own child because he was sad from the lack of money and food?
   Anyways, my thoughts wafted around me as I lay on my mattress with nothing to do. This wasn't how I hoped New York would be like. There's so many things to do and see but I'm not allowed to go outside.
   Wait, he never said I couldn't leave the house.
   A smirk began to form, and I quickly went downstairs. I slowly opened the front door and stepped outside.
   The weather was warm and clean, with the sun radiating down on me. It felt so good on my skin. A wide smile spread across my face and I skipped along the sidewalk.
   There were people in the streets, women walking by themselves with parasols or older couples huddled together. But I wondered why there weren't any men. Sure, there was a little boy with his mother every so often and an old man minding his own business, but there weren't any middle aged men.
   While pondering this, I let my feet take me to a store. I entered, still lost in thought, not in control of my actions. The food isle was right infront of me and I took a can of soup. Then I walked out of the store.
There was a loud yell. "Hey, you better pay for that!" by the unfriendly man running the cashier. He raced out the door and darted after me.
I let out a scream, running quickly, clutching the can to my chest. I didn't mean to take it, I was just so hungry...
"Y/N!" I heard the scratchy voice of my foster father, "Is that you? What are you doing outside the house?!"
I looked over my shoulder. The cashier was still running after me, tagged by Mr. Arnold's furious red face.
A sob escaped my mouth when I suddenly tripped on a crack in the sidewalk, falling onto my left arm. I cried out in pain, trying to scurry away. But it was too late.
The men caught up to me. My foster father kicked me harshly while the cashier man yelled at me for stealing. They didn't make the searing pain in my arm go away, just made it worse as I could feel my ribs practically breaking.
I wailed loudly, begging them to stop. No one listened, and people wandering the streets didn't seem to care. I am just a little voice calling out into darkness.
I think the cashier realized he had a store to tend to, so he took a wad of cash out of Mr. Arnold's pant pockets and ran.
"You made me pay for something you stole," he barked, kicking me harder. I couldn't respond, I was numb. "You're going to pay for running out."
He rolled me into the street next to the bloody sidewalk. A chariot was racing across the packed gravel, the horse's hooves unaware of me laying in their way. I squeezed my eyes shut, ready for death.

A/N
Woop I'm sorry for the long wait, I got busy with school
Those waiting on my next chapter of the highschool story, it'll be posted tomorrow. Promise.

petunia xx