Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Life Is Full of False Hopes

A New Home

by Wicked_Lovely 6 Reviews

They were a pack of wolves, and I just happened to be a broken misfit fox that they picked up to raise as their own.

Category: Panic! At The Disco - Rating: R - Genres: Angst,Drama - Characters:  - Published: 2011/06/29 - Updated: 2011/06/30 - 2903 words

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I got in my social workers car, not at all excited about what was going to happen next. He handed me my new family's folder, telling me that they were good people. I read through it as he turned the radio on, driving down to their house. One set of adopted twins, and two foster kids. The adopted twins were thirteen, one of the foster boys was ten, the other seven. I frowned at the paper. I really didn't need to be the oldest.
"Their good religious people, something that I think you might need." I glared at him.
"The hell if I need to go to church every fucking day."
"You watch your language, or you're going back to the center. You better not mess this up either, you need a good family to live with." I muttered a whatever, staring out the window as I stayed away from him. The rest of the car ride was silent, something I wished it would have been from the start. I didn't need him telling me what was going to come later that day. It would just make me more and more disappointed. He parked in front of a large white house in a perfect neighborhood. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, not wanting to know what was going to happen next. We both got out of the car, and I got my single bag out, carrying it on my back as we walked up the steps to the house. He lead me to the front door, ringing the bell and waiting. I wasn't at all excited by it.
The door opened and a tall and lean woman stood behind it, giving me a small and plastic smile. Blue eyes, blond hair, a perfect hourglass figure. I had no doubt that she was a sorority girl.
"You must be Brendon. I'm Carrie." She said with her plastic grin that seemed to grow. I nodded once, not at all wanting to be there. I followed my social worker into my new temporary home, wondering how long it would take for me to break this house.
"I'm going to visit you once every week, okay Brendon?" Social worker said. I nodded, not showing any emotion. "I'm also going to take you to therapy twice a week." That's the part when I had to bite my lip and try not to start cursing. As much as I was going to hate this new place, the consequences of screwing up were much worse than the place itself. "Now that that's out of the way," He turned to look at Carrie. "Call me if something goes out of hand. Brendon's a fairly good kid, he's just a little...unpredictable. I think I'm going to go if there's nothing else."
"Okay, that sounds good." Carrie said with her plastic smile still plastered to her lips. He walked out the door, leaving me with the smiling fool. "You're room's up stairs sugar, just follow me." I nodded, following her up the green carpeted steps.
I looked at all of the family pictures that hung on the white walls that had green trim towards the top. The twins looked older than the folder said they were. They were female, and identical. It seemed the only thing that made the two different was the small mole that was under one of their eyes. They had naturally dark brown hair with crystal blue eyes, one of the rarest combination's ever. We walked down one of the halls, a wooden coffee table sat up against one of the walls of the hallway, books standing upright on it, small handmade figures of fairies covering the rest of it. I vaguely wondered who had made them. The walls were still white, the carpet still a rich moss green. There was paint at the top and bottom of the walls, green veins and leaves covering a small amount of space. The doors in the hall were the same wood as the coffee table, gold doorknobs matching each one.
She lead me down to the third door, opening it to show a nice homey room. There was a desk pushed up against the right wall, a dresser sitting next to it. They were white, the room green. The carpet had changed to an off white, a bed sat on the far wall, a checkered green comforter covering it. There was a door on left wall, a bookcase hiding in the corner next to it.
"I hope it's comfortable enough for you. You'll have to share a washroom with the other two boys. That won't be a problem, will it?" I shook my head no, not saying a word. "Okay, I'll let you get settled in. If you need anything, I'll be in the kitchen making dinner." I nodded again, but then thought about it and spoke.
"Where are the other kids?" I asked quietly.
"Oh! The twins are at soccer practice, and Jack is spending time with his friend. But Jerry is in his room. It's the room to your right if you want to talk to him. You should be able to meet everyone else at dinner." She said with a large and ditsy smile. Trophy wife. That's what they called girls like that. She walked off, and I turned back around putting my bag on the end of the bed.
I barley had anything left. A few pieces of paper some of the workers at the institute had given me to write on, my black sweater, three cigarettes and some matches, and the clothing that was given to me at the institute. There was nothing else. The book that my sister had given to me had been burned by the pyro who took anything that mattered to someone to light on fire. I had a little bit of money, I put all of it in the bottom of my shoes, desperate to not loose it.
I bit my bottom lip, debating what to do. The door to my room was shut, and I was terrified to sit on the bed or on the chair that was sitting in front of the desk. With a sigh I walked over to the bookcase, reading the titles. Most of them were ridiculous books that looked like they belonged in a teenage girls room. Ann Rice, S.E.Hinton, Holly Black, Joe Hill, Edger Allen Poe, Mary Stewart, Harper Lee, Douglas Adams. I stopped when I came across a blank spine. There was no ridiculous title or authors name, so I pulled it out.
There was calligraphy on the pages, hand written in black ink that had small pictures at the bottom of them. There were only five pages that were filled, everything else being empty. It made me wonder about the last kid that lived in the room as I read the words, staring at the pictures of fairies that were mutilating themselves. And then it clicked. The small figurines had been made by the person who had the room last, and whoever it was must have gotten the book as a journal. I became even more curious as I tried to understand what had happened. I put the book down on the desk, walking over to the closet, opening the door.
It was...odd. The closet looked like it had once been the same color of the room but had been painted over with a thin layer of white. My brows furrowed as I closed the door. I sat back down on the floor, holding the journal and a pen I had found on the desk. I turned to the sixth page in the book, and started to write. I wrote the few good things that had happened to me in my life, filling up two pages. I closed the book with a sigh.
I stood, walking out of the room. The washroom was right across from my door, making it easy for me to find. I closed the door behind me, looking around the small room. There was a bath with a shower on the left side, a toilet and a sink on the right. And a small window right next to the bath. I opened it, pulling one of my only cigarettes out of my pocket along with the few matches I had. I would try and find someone to buy me more soon. I brought the cigarette to my lips, lighting the match. I stared at the flame for a moment before allowing it to go up to the end of the cancer stick that stayed balanced between my lips.
My mind went back to a familiar face as I inhaled, my hand going up to take the cigarette away from my lip as I leaned against the small windowsill. I thought about those honey eyes and that matching perfect and soft honey hair. As I exhaled and tapped ash out of the window I thought about the scent of vanilla cigarettes and sugar. I brought the cigarette back to my lips, taking another drag before letting my hand fall to my side as I held the smoke in. I thought about the perfect body, the hands covered in cuts. I exhaled the smoke, taking one last drag before putting out the cigarette so I could smoke it again.
I thought about his name. Such a perfect name. Or more, a perfect boy. I let the smoke escape my lips, walking over to the sink. Ryan. I splashed the water on my face and then gave a sigh, I looked up and caught my reflection. It was impossible to look away now. I stared at it, and if I hadn't known better I would have thought I was staring at a dead man. I sighed, tearing my gaze away as I thought about him. He would probably be the only person I would be able to think about for a while. And I didn't even know the first thing about him.
I walked out of the washroom, noticing a small boy who hid halfway behind his door, peering at me while holding a purple stuffed dinosaur. Short red curly hair and bright green eyes. When he noticed that I was looking at him he closed the door. I sighed a little, and debated on whether or not I should open the door to see who he was, but decided against it. There was no point in forcing him to meet me when he was obviously afraid of me. Or at least nervous.
I read until I was called for dinner, finding that there were only two other people at the table. There was Carrie, and the little boy that still had his purple stuffed dinosaur in his lap. And yet, the table had four more place settings that had missing people. Carrie smiled when I took a seat at the corner, looking down at the food that was placed on the table. It looked like a wholesome meal, and if I had been eating regularly for the past few years of my life I probably would have been really hungry.
"Um,...Brendon, this is Jerry. Jerry, this is your new big brother Brendon." Carrie said awkwardly. I waved a little, and the young boy hid his face behind his stuffed animal. A group of laughing people walked in the room, sitting down at the table. There was still one place missing, but I decided against questioning it.
"Who's that?" One of the twin girls asked in a snotty tone. I just stared at my plate, finding myself unable to eat any of it as I tugged at the sleeves of my sweater under the table.
"That's your new big brother Brendon." Carrie said with a smile. "Brendon these are the twins. Amanda and Jessica. And this is my husband Matthew." I nodded once giving a fake smile as I chose not to speak. I couldn't mess this up. I knew I couldn't. I bit my tongue as the other twin spoke. I think it was the Amanda one, but they really did look a lot alike.
"Is he a mute?" She said bluntly. Carrie sighed, putting down her silverware.
"It's not nice to say things like that." The father spoke like he was the dominant one, just like if it were a pack of wolves. And after he spoke, all I could think was that we WERE a pack of wolves, and I just happened to be a broken misfit fox that they picked up to raise as their own. I wondered how long I would be forced to stay with this family, and found myself praying that it wouldn't be too long.
Dinner ended and most of the family rushed to their rooms. The only one left in the family being the mother. And myself. She was cleaning up the table. I bit my lip and then gave a small sigh, standing and helping her clean. She looked shocked to say the least, almost as if it was the first time anyone had helped her.
"You don't have to you know." I looked at her, and shrugged.
"I thought you could use a little bit of help." I spoke calmly and quietly, not wanting to make any mistakes. She nodded and I followed her into the kitchen, carrying the dirty dishes.
"Is all of your clothing like that?" She said as she rinsed off some of the dishes. I looked down at what I was wearing and nodded.
"How would you like me to take you shopping?" She must really have fucking pitied me. Poor little Brendon, with dirty torn up clothing that's two sizes to big. I bit my tongue, trying not to make any snide comments at what she had said. I think she took it as a yes.
When she was finished I went up to my room, sitting down on the bed. I gave a small sigh, my mind going back to Ryan. I looked out of the window, staring at the perfect suburbia that stayed outside. I hugged my legs up to my chest, as I counted the stars. It was just so odd. Being in yet another strange bed. In a happy household that wanted me to be a part of it. It just...didn't seem right. I was never apart of a functional family, it just didn't work that way. I looked at the moon that hung low in the sky.
It was waning, and the moonlight manged to light my bedroom. The streetlights lit up a small park that was in the distance yet part of the neighborhood. At least I would know where I could get some more drugs from.
I wondered when the next time I would see Spencer would be. Or Ryan. Or any of them really. I bit my bottom lip, feeling guilty for wanting to see them all again soon. I would probably just fuck up their lives if I spent much time with them. There was a small clock on a bedside table that told me it was now eleven. The house was completely silent, and I was starting to feel sick. I got of the bed, creeping out of my room and to the washroom across from it.
Shutting the door behind me I looked for something I could damage myself with. I noticed an unopened razor case and quickly pulled it out, smashing it with my hand. The plastic and metal quickly dug into my flesh, creating small wounds. I pulled the plastic out of my skin, picking up one of the sharp pieces of metal. I rolled up my sleeve, bringing it to my wrist where I let the shiny silver gleam for a moment. I drug it across my pale flesh and let the small beads of red form on the surface.
Some things never change. I allowed the wound to close before I started to gather the pieces of plastic, dumping them into a waste basket. I figured that no one would notice. I pocketed the small razor, sitting on the edge of the tub as I ran a hand through my hair. I had to pull myself together.
I felt sick. My stomach was twisting nervously, telling me that it wasn't happy about the small amount of food I had eaten. Or the amount of pressure I had put on myself to not fuck up.
The next thing I knew I was kneeling over the toilet, all of the contents of my stomach going into it along with a little bit of blood. I coughed a little, sitting up as I sighed. This wasn't right. I put the washroom back to the way it was before I had gotten to it, finding myself staring into the mirror once more. I choked back a sob. When had I become such a fuck up?


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Oh my goodness, updates do still exist on this story! Who knew?

AnotherKinfeInMyHand:I think this one was slightly longer. But maybe not, I can't really tell.
PartyPoison:They shouldn't show up too often, but they'll be there here and there.
I think that so far it's getting better for him. Let's see how long it lasts.
patdfan:I can only hope that it was worth the wait for you. Because it did take me a fairly long time to update.

-xoxo Pansy.
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