Sing Me To Sleep

Chapter 26

Group home. It sounded like a nursing home. Orphanage didn't sound much better, in my opinion. But it didn't matter what I called it. Each term put the same grim image into my head; An old-fashioned mansion, complete with deteriorating foundation, chipping paint, and decaying flowers leading up a cracked stone path to a heavy wooden door that would seal in my fate.

Ha. Fate.

The concept of fate seems ridiculous to me right now. Curled in on myself, staring out of a tinted window with nothing but a single case of belongings, being driven to a group home after my mother killed herself. If this is destiny, then fate has a sick sense of humor.

When the car pulls into the long driveway of my new home, I'm somewhat surprised by what is laid out before me. A large brick building sits at the head of a U-shaped driveway. Green grass sprouts in every direction, covering every ground surface that isn't paved with the pale asphalt. The building stretches out to both my left and right though it's only two stories high. Windows scatter the front of the home, colorful curtains drawn in various rooms to allow the sunlight in. Contradicting to the name group home, it looks rather empty, until the front door swings open and a slender woman emerges from the house.

Following the suits, I climb tentatively from the car, dragging my case behind me. I cringe against the breeze that suddenly feels too cold on my skin and glance around nervously. I try to ignore the way the curtains seem to shift, unseen eyes watching me from beyond the coverings. Instead, I focus on the woman that meets us at the end of the stairs that lead from the porch to the driveway.

"You must be Frank," She beams. Opening her arms wide in a gesture to the property behind her, I can't help but flinch away. She doesn't seem to notice. "I'm Beatrice Webb."

Well, I didn't see that coming. In all honesty, I had imagined Beatrice Webb as a stout woman with a hunch-back and grey hair. But the woman in front of me was tall and thin, standing straight and her spine rigid, with pale brown hair falling around her shoulders.

Beatrice turns to the detectives, thankfully forgetting me for the moment. I take the chance to peer around, taking in the serene atmosphere. It actually feels... Homey. A few bright green flower pots hang around the ledge of the porch, looking vibrant and inviting against the dull red color of the monotonous brick. Bushes line the walls beneath the first floor windows, some budding pale white and yellow flowers. My eyes scan over each detail, taking in what I see and trying to imagine what the inside will look like.

When I turn back to the others, a boy is joining our small group. Beatrice takes notice him in the same moment and waves the blonde-haired boy over. He glances at me, his bright blue eyes seeming to skim over me in a way that makes me feel nervous, but a smirk plays on the corners of his pale lips.

Beatrice drapes an arm around the boy's shoulders, smiling at me. "Frank, this is Bob," She says. Her voice is slow, making sure I grasp onto every word. "He's been assigned to show you around and make sure you get settled in, as well as picking up your schoolwork every week."

Oh great. He's my babysitter.

And then last part of her statement registers and I turn to look at Francis, confusion probably evident in my expression. "What does she mean, pick up my schoolwork?"

"Well," The older detective fidgets uncomfortably under my scrutiny and runs a hand over his mustache. "We thought that you could use a break from school for a little while. It will give you time to adjust to the living arrangements here and it will be better for your recovery." My face falls and I think that anger may be mixed in with my expression, as Francis hurries on. "It's just for the rest of the year, Frank," He explains. "Two more months. You've already missed two weeks due to the hospitalization. This is for your benefit. You'll be able to catch up on your work and still finish the year on time."