I Can't Be A Vampire If I Don't Believe In Them

One

I sighed as I packed everything up in my old suitcase. One of the head ladies said I had been in the process of being adopted when I was transferred here. I hadn't heard anything about this, so I didn't believe her. Why would the state allow someone to adopt me without me even meeting them, unless they were family? I've been in the system for years, so I don't think it would be family.

I don't even remember anything from before a few years ago due to being in a really bad car wreck. My oldest foster brother, who was 21, and his best friend, Jack, took me to the movies. It was during the summer and I had just turned fourteen. Apparently Sammy, my foster brother, adored me and would do almost anything for me, so they took me to see X-Men: Apocalypse. But on our way home we were hit by a drunk driver on the interstate and the car flipped. Jack died; they say it was an instant death. Sammy died later in the hospital. And because I was on the passenger's side where the car had landed when it flipped, I was in critical condition. They say I died on the way to the hospital but was brought back when they shocked me a few times. The side of the car I was on had caved in and the roof had crushed down on me. Sammy and I both had to be cut out. I don't remember anything from that day or anything of my life before it due to amnesia from my brain injury. I've been told my injuries were so bad that it's a miracle I'm still alive.

I regret more than anything that I couldn't remember Sammy. I had many pictures of us. The Kennedy's, my last family, also had a bunch of home movies that had Sammy and me together, and they made copies of those for me. After the wreck and after Sammy's death, Seth, my other foster brother, started hating me. He was just a year and a half older than me. He blamed me for his brother's death since Sammy and I were so close. James and Kathy tried to get it into Seth's head that it was the drunk drivers fault, but he wouldn't listen. Seth and I would fight often. We had gotten into a pretty bad argument one night during dinner. He stated that I was the one that should have died, so I decided to try to kill myself that night. They put me back into the system after that.

I had been with the Kennedy's for seven years. I was with another family before them for one year and was tossed around for four years, according to James and Kathy. The Kennedy's told me I was put in the system when my real dad died when I was four. I've never known anything about my real dad and I wished I could remember something about him. I wanted to know about my past and who my real family is.

I looked out of my window to see the sun shining brightly. It would be nice to feel the sun's warmth before going into this new life and family. I left my small room, headed down the two flights of stairs, and went into the back yard. Other kids in the orphanage were playing out here; some were on the swing set, a few on the playground. I went to sit down under the large oak tree to watch everyone around me.

It was about forty-five minutes of me sitting under the tree when a pair of black beat up Converse high tops came into view beside me. I did my best to ignore the person. I didn't want to make any friends here if I was supposed to be gone by the end of the day. When the person wearing the Converse sat down beside me, their light grey skinny jeans coming into view, I couldn't help but look over at them. It was a young man, probably no older than twenty-four, give or take a few years. He had a strong jaw and a sharp nose with the prettiest shade of dark green eyes I had ever seen. His bleached blond hair was unkempt, kept out of his eyes apart from one small chunk.

"May I help you?" I asked him. I wasn't in the mood for small talk with a stranger. Why would some stranger even decide to chat with me when there are so many other kids around? Hopefully he wasn't some kind of counselor or something.

"I think the question is do you want me to help you? I'm here to take you home." He said. His voice was deep and raspy, which I liked. I glanced down at his black leather jacket and the Ramones shirt he was wearing. I raised my eyebrow as I looked back into his eyes, "Sorry, but you don't fit the cut. I know how the system works in here. You're too young to foster someone my age and you're not dressed in a suit."