Adopted by Zerkaa

· Millston Orphanage ·

Make sure to vote, comment, and follow if you enjoy this chapter! Also, comment down below if you're coming from my other book Adopted by the Sidemen! Much love xxx

Also, comment some more names down below. I'm trying Mia for now, but we can always change it if you guys don't like it! xx

***

Mia's POV

***

The sun's rays stab my eyes as they open, introducing me to a new day full of pain and dreary mood swings.

I sit up in bed and push the thin gray blanket off my body. The logo on the blanket symbolizing the orphanage where I'm at gives me an uncomfortable reminder. A reminder that no one wanted me. I am a mistake. Brought into this world by the fault of a broken condom. Kinda humorous if you think about it like that.

I pull on some jeans and an oversized sweater, hiding my slim body. It's no secret that I'm deathly thin and pale and half dead to be honest. My 'parents' Tim and Joan, the couple who own the orphanage, have tried everything to make me gain some weight, but I refuse to eat. Don't get me wrong, Tim and Joan are a lovely couple in their early thirties. They take care of all the kids here at Millstons orphanage, including over twenty kids, aged eighteen and under.

I sigh as I pick up a sample mascara Joan lent to me a couple of weeks ago. I brush it on my long blonde eyelashes and grab my lipgloss afterward. I gently slide it over my plump childish lips and smack them, giving myself a little smile in my bedroom mirror.

Tim gave me this mirror. He found it in a small antique shop after work one day and brought it back with him. The glass is slightly stained a vintage yellow with an outline of gold copper. It's a beautiful mirror and I use it every day.

After braiding my hair, I push it back off my shoulders and take a deep breath.

I can do this today.

I stand up and pocket my iPhone five in the back of my jeans. I got my phone about two years ago at thirteen. Joan and Tim thought it'd make me happy and it does, I'm super grateful, but materialistic things don't make happiness last.

I walk downstairs and greet Tim and Joan in the small kitchen. The cupboard under the sink is broken and the lights hanging above the dining table haven't worked since 2016. It's a warm kitchen though, always filled with home-baked goods from Joan. The little kids love it and I wished I could enjoy them too without feeling guilty.

"Goodmorning, sweetheart," Joan smiles, leading me to the breakfast table. "Eggs? Bacon? Some buttered toast?"

"Just a cup of tea, thanks," I say quietly.

Joan nods and smiles softly. She knows I get nervous on Saturdays. Saturdays are reserved for the open houses. 9 am to 9 pm. People come and observe the children they think they'd like to adopt. Private meetings can be made for the upcoming weeks, but most people stick to the Saturday visits.

Joan places my cup of steaming tea in front of me and I thank her. She knows I hate open houses. Let's face it, nobody wants a teenager at that awkward stage of sixteen.

The open house today seems calmer than usual. Thank god.

I settle on a small sofa in the corner of the living room and pull my hoodie sleeves over my arms. Small cuts litter my wrists and upper forearms from a few days ago and I don't want anyone seeing them.

I plug in my headphones and lean back against a few sofa cushions. My plan is to stay down here for an hour before going back upstairs to my room to watch YouTube. There really is no reason for me to stay down here. It's the same every year. All kids aged three to eight get adopted most frequently, and even most eight-year-olds struggle to be adopted. In the past two years, only six teenagers (thirteen to sixteen) have been adopted in total. It's pretty bad when you think about it. That's why I prefer not to.