Janis Sarkisian and the absolutely, unbelievably perfect family

Just so tired

Welcome back!

That is welcome back if you've read anything I've written before. If not Hi, hello, welcome, join the crew.

This is something I've been wanting to write for a while and now seemed appropriate seen as this is the only work I'm not suffering writers Block from.

So enjoy, leave a comment telling me what you want to happen or what you think will happen and I'll see you on the other side!

Enjoy!

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I have never been particularly lucky. People just seem not to like me. I'd been really close to my father in my childhood, practically attached to him really. But I guess I asked to many questions. That's usually the way, isn't it?

As I grew older I grew to understand that asking questions wasn't appropriate anymore. Me and my father grew appart and soon enough he died. By the time I was ten I had been to several foster homes, all of them appearing nice and kind, like they could be my found family. Some of them not pretending, but most of them were.

Hope can be lost very easily if it isn't properly nurtured and cared for. So can fate.

---

I hoisted my backpack over my right shoulder, ignoring the stinging sensation in my left shoulder from my run in with Mr Anderson, my previous foster father, and stared at the house in front of me.

The Anderson's had seemed Like nice people at first. They had kids of their own and were kind to my upon our first meeting. It had quickly become clear to me that I was only in their care so they'd get payed. Mr Anderson was a drunk and had raised his sons to be just like him, crule and abusive.

I had lost my fair share of fights with them and had never came away unscathed. The pain in my shoulder was just a reminder of how they didn't and never would have loved me. I ignored it and would ignore it till I died.

The house I was being dropped off at was a little on the small side, with a brown picket fence surrounding it and shutters on the windows, making it look like some type of fairytail cottage. There were flowers planted in beds under each of the front downstairs windows and a small post box attached to the gate. It was cute.

"This is it." Mrs Norbury, my social worker, said with a sickeningly optimistic smile, "This is your new home kiddo."

I huffed, adjusting my bag again and stared at her, "Why can't I just go back to the group home?" I asked angrily, "I hate the hole new home thing. It's not like I'm going to stay here for very long."

"Please just try to get along with these people." Norbury pleaded, touching my arm, in the one spot she knew for sure wasn't bruised, and rubbing it soothingly, "They are good people. I know for a fact that the son is excited to meet you."

I blanched, feeling the colour drain from my face, "They have a son?" I choked out, terrified. The last son I'd come accros  had almost killed me.

Norbury nodded, not noticing my sudden fear, "Yes, he's quite the gentleman as well." She had a smile on her face that I couldn't comprehend, "I think you'll like him!"

She knocks on the door, not giving me a chance to protest. It is swung open by a round, soft looking woman with sparkling blue eyes and rosy cheeks. She grins upon seeing them and opens the door further to let Norbury and I in.

Once the door is shut with a quiet click and she leads us into the living room and offers us a seat, still smiling and clutching her hands nervously in front of her. When I don't immediately sit down her smile falls a little and she falters, I feel a pang of guilt in my chest but can't help it, "You can sit dear. I don't bite i promise."

I flinch slightly at the kind tone of voice, not trusting it completely, but decide to sit on the edge of the sofa anyway.

Mrs Norbury cast a nervous glance at me, her eyes holding a slight worry, furrowing her brow slightly but then turning back to the woman, "Its so nice to finally get to meet you." She said, shocking me out of my head and causing me to sit bolt upright in alarm.

"You've never met these people before?" I blurted out, earning a scolding look from Norbury which I ignored, "You've never met them before and you're sending me to live with them?" I felt myeslf grow angry, my face heating up and my eyes burning with unshead tears, I don't want a repeat of the last few homes.

Norbury stands up, coming to crouch in front of me, and taking both of my cold hands in her own warm, soft ones, "Jan honey you know I would never intentionally send you to live with bad people. And the Hubbard's aren't bad people. Mrs Hubbard is really excited to have you here and so is her son Damian." She squeezed my hands tightly and sat back down beside me, "Sorry Mrs Hubbard. We've had a long day haven't we Janis?"

I nodded, the tears dripping off the end of my nose, before I could even comprehend that I was crying, as I stared at my scuffed combat boots, wishing I had never woken up this morning.

Humming in understanding, Mrs Hubbard sits opposite me and smiles, "If you'd like Janis I can take you upstairs to your room. I'm sure you're tired and there's no need for you to be here whilst we organise everything."

I look up for the first time and almost melt under Mrs Hubbards kind gaze, "Please." I utter quietly, blinking slowly at the woman and trying to conceal the heavy sigh that escapes my lips.

Smiling Mrs Hubbard stands up and gestures for me to follow her, "Its not massive unfortunately," She explains sadly, "We only have a small house and Damians room is the biggest because he tends to make the most mess."

I snort a laugh under my breath at that and shake my head a minuscule amount, "Its fine, really, I've had to share in most places. Or they've just shoved me under the stairs." I mutter the last part, cursing myself silently when Mrs Hubbard shoots me a worried look.

She seems to shake the worry off though and pushes a door just off the landing open, gesturing for me to go in first. I gasp a little as I walk in, the room is small but cosy, a twin sized bed sits in the middle of it, with white sheets and a grey comforter on the end. A desk is pushed up against the right-hand corner and has a stack of notebooks and stationary placed in the centre if it, there is two bedside tables, one for each side of the bed, and a grey alarm clock sat on the left hand one. A oak wardrobe is pushed into the left hand corner of the room, one of the doors hanging open slightly to reveal a small stack of folded clothes on the bottom of it.

I drop my bag at the edge of the bed and open the doors fully, touching the soft fabric at my fingertips and snapping my head round to look at Mrs Hubbard when she clears her throat quietly, "Some of it might be a bit big, we weren't sure of your sizes but Damian mentioned how you might not have many clothes on you."

I smile at her as best I can, "You didn't have to." I say feeling guilty already, "But thank you. For the clothes and the stationary." I gesture to the desk and feel even worse when Mrs Hubbard's face flushed red in embarrassment.

She smiles at me, "That, again, was Damians idea." She states sheepishly, "He kept a much better head then me when we found out you were arriving today." She pauses for a second, almost looking as if she wants to reach out and touch my hair but doesn't, instead backing out of the room, "I'll let you get settled in. Feel free to take a nap or just unpack. I'll call you when dinner is ready."

I nod and watch her go, shutting the door as soon as she leaves and kicking my boots off. Then I flop down on the bed, pressing my face into my pillow and crying. Crying hard untill I eventually fall asleep.